‘Move.’ She sinks her nails into my arse again, egging me on. ‘Oh God, please move. You feel so good.’
I’m not the kind of man to disappoint, especially my wife. Nuzzling her cheek, I take her hands from my arse and thrust them up on the pillow, raising a little to get her in my sights. She’s panting. Wanting. Loving the feel of me inside her. I jolt my hips teasingly. ‘You want gentle Jesse, baby?’ I lick my lips, savouring the sight of her sweating. ‘Or should I rip you clean in two?’
She inhales, somewhere between shock and delight. ‘Which do I prefer?’
‘Depends on your mood. What are you in the mood for, gorgeous wife?’ Another thrust, short and sharp, makes her tense, snap her mouth shut, and hold her breath.
‘Just take me away from our nightmare for a while. I don’t care how. Just do it.’
I waver on the edge of despondency. Our nightmare. She wants to escape. Then she bumps her hips, too, and that despondency sinks in a pleasure like no other. ‘I’m introducing a new fuck to our relationship, baby.’ Dipping, I kiss her hard, pulling away before she has a chance to engage her mouth and keep me there. ‘We’ll call it the Reunion Fuck.’
And that fuck is going to be my new favourite. I swivel my hips, grinding deeply. I flex my hands over her wrists, but keep them where they are, withdrawing from the amazing warmth of her pussy and gliding gently back in. My body is craving a nice hard fuck, but my mind won’t allow it. ‘I’m going to make the softest love to you.’
She melts beneath me, and the wobble of her lip tells me she likes my idea. ‘Okay.’
I lower my face, catching her mouth gently as I start a measured, delicate rock of my hips, making sure my drives are slow and exact, my tongue following suit. I release her hands and let her feel me. I let her control our kiss, tolerating the loss of her lips from time to time when she lazily throws her head around on the pillow, sighing, moaning, struggling to keep her eyes open. She’s floating away, caught in the moment. A moment with me. I ensure my rhythm is consistent, ensure she’s held in a perfect state of pleasure. I’ve never seen anything so stunning, and I find myself focusing more on her losing herself rather than my own pleasure. It’s no loss. Nothing could ever beat this.
My wet skin peels away from her chest as I lift and brace myself on my forearms, needing a better view. Her eyes follow mine, her hands reaching for my face and holding me. Our hips are in perfect sync, her rolling up, me rolling down, each plunge achieving the deepest depths.
‘I can see why I fell in love with you,’ she whispers, grazing her palms over my stubble.
‘Because I’m an Adonis in bed?’
‘And out of bed.’ Her voice gets higher, and then she moans her way back down to a level tone, her eyes blinking slowly. ‘You’re the perfect mix of man. Big, strong, passionate, devoted. You love with everything you have.’
‘And I’m nothing without you.’
‘And everything with me.’ I’m pulled down, her face sinking into my neck, and we take the final stretch to release holding each other tight, breathing in time together, moving as one.
Our climax hits simultaneously. I don’t yell. Neither does she. I don’t buck or jolt. Neither does she. We roll through our pleasure calmly and quietly, the only frantic, crazy thing happening being the hammering of both our hearts. I’m alive. So is she. Everything else can be fixed. I’m sure of it.
‘You want me to move?’ I ask against the wet flesh of her neck, mindful that I’m now limp and probably very heavy.
‘No.’ Arms coming straight around my shoulders, legs around my waist, she locks me up tightly in her hold. ‘I want you to stay exactly where you are all night.’ She turns her face into mine and finds my lips. ‘Because this is where you are supposed to be. With no space between us.’
Locked together.
Touching everywhere. Her lips resting on mine, my lungs inhaling her breath.
‘Jesse?’ she murmurs sleepily in my ear, and I hum my prompt for her to go on. ‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’
Chapter 29
Just call me a domestic god.
I’m getting used to this stupid coffee machine now. I’m also getting used to the fact that it’s not ready for me to drink when I get up in the morning. Ava has finally been sleeping well, and waking her come morning is out of the question. So I’ve taken over her jobs.
I flick the machine on and open the pantry cupboard, pulling down the cereals and setting them on the side for the kids. It’s only when I’m on my way back to the coffee machine that I realise what I’ve done. The gaping hole in my existence grows, and like they’ve sensed I’m missing them, my phone rings and I rush over to answer. I smile when I see my boy’s face lighting up the screen.
Answering, I prop it up by the cooker and continue with Ava’s breakfast. ‘Are you cooking eggs, Dad?’ Jacob asks in greeting. The sea in the background looks amazing, the rush of the waves loud but calming. A holiday. I could do with one of those.
‘Sure am, buddy.’ I tap the spatula on the edge of the pan before lifting to show him. ‘I’m making your mum breakfast in bed.’ I feel like I’ve been born again, injected with energy. Last night was one of the most amazing nights of my life. And better still, I know my wife feels the same.
‘Remember she likes a runny yolk,’ Jacob reminds me, having me looking down at the pan and the two very unrunny yolks. He must catch my frown. ‘Do scrambled,’ he tells me. ‘And salmon. You know that’s one of her favourites.’
‘I have no salmon,’ I grumble, thinking I need to get my arse to the supermarket pronto. We’re low on everything. But grocery shopping is hardly the romantic date I had planned for later. I hear Jacob sigh, and I shrug, because that’s what I do. ‘How’s Maddie?’ I ask.
‘She met a friend. She’s down the beach now.’
A friend? ‘Nice. What’s her name?’
‘Hugo.’
The pan clatters to the stove, my hand catching the burner. ‘Motherfucker!’ I yelp and start jumping around, clasping my hand tightly to stem the pain. ‘You bastard!’ Fucking hell. My knuckles are still sporting the aftermath of my lash out on the mirror and door. Now this? I shake it out, grimacing in pain. ‘Fuck, that hurts.’
‘Jesse Ward!’ The sound of my mother-in-law’s voice penetrates my senses, and I fly over to my phone, just catching Jacob rolling his eyes as Ava’s mother pushes him from the camera. Her face appears, very displeased.
‘Hugo’s a girl’s name.’ I state it as a fact. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘Hugo is a boy,’ she says flippantly. I don’t appreciate it. ‘Just the grandson of some friends. We had dinner with them last night.’
I get my face up close and personal with the screen, noting Elizabeth backing away. My baby girl is on the coast without me there to make sure no little twerps sniff around her. ‘I’m relying on you, Elizabeth.’
‘To do what? Trample in your absence?’
‘Yes!’ I look down at my hand and see a blister developing. ‘Keep him away from my daughter,’ I warn, swiping up my phone and making my way to the sink. ‘Boys can’t be trusted. How old is the little shit?’
‘Thirteen.’
I drop my phone in the sink. ‘Thirteen?’ Oh my God! ‘Elizabeth, this—’ I’m interrupted mid-rant when someone takes my hand, and I peek to the side to find Ava inspecting the burn. She shakes her head, takes my phone from the sink and props it up against the backsplash.
‘Hi, Mum.’ She flips on the tap and forces my hand under the flow of cold water. I hiss as she looks at me out of the corner of her eye, her expression telling me it’s my own damn fault.
‘Hi, darling!’ Elizabeth, understandably, looks delighted to see her daughter.
Too bad. I seize the phone while Ava tends to my hand, keeping it steady under the water. ‘So, this boy.’
‘What boy?’ Ava pipes up, leaning and grabbing a towel off the side.