“No. Don’t say anything. When you tell me how you feel, I don’t want there to be any hesitation, any question. I want the feeling to be burning through you so hot and fierce that you can’t hold it back, and you blurt it out at the most inopportune moment. That’s what I want from you, Holly. Until I can have that, I’ll settle for the rest of you. Because that’s a pretty fucking fabulous deal on my part too.”
I’m pretty sure my insides just melted. Maybe my heart. Most definitely my panties.
I love that he wants the same raw, real, and beautiful declaration from me—and he’s willing to wait for it.
“You’re so getting laid right now.”
His grin dang near stops my heart. “I know.”
He turns and sits me on the kitchen table. Uncurling me from around his body, he scoops up all of the grocery bags, opens the fridge, and shoves them inside.
“Really? They don’t all need to—”
“Do you really care right now?” Crey asks.
I shake my head. “Nope. Not even a little bit.”
He slams the fridge door. “Good.”
Only one step separates us, and I already have my shirt over my head and tossed to the floor by the time he closes that tiny distance.
Eager doesn’t begin to cover how I’m feeling, and by the grin on Crey’s face, he has no problem with my eagerness. Quite the opposite, judging by the bulge in his jeans. His eyes make a valiant attempt to stay on my face, but my heaving lungs have my boobs bouncing in my bra.
“Jesus Christ, Holly. You’re fucking incredible.”
I lean back on the table, my hands sliding across the weathered wood. Crey’s hands find the button of my jeans and unsnap it, tugging the zipper down in one smooth motion before peeling them off my legs.
“Woman, I’m going to fuck you so hard we break this goddamn table.”
“Thank God,” I whisper.
Seeing Holly spread out on the table, eyes shining, tits heaving, and legs spread, almost stops my heart. Every fucking time. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. But there’s something about her that grabs hold of me and won’t let go.
I think it might be the universe telling me that I need to appreciate every fucking minute I have with her, because if I don’t, a sorry bastard like me might have her snatched away before I know what happened. I’ve already learned what it’s like to lose her—twice now—and that gut-wrenching emptiness isn’t something I ever want to feel again. My heart is on the line here, which is completely new territory for me.
I drop to my knees between her legs, a hand on each knee. Sliding my palms up her thighs, I say, “It’s been too fucking long since I’ve had my mouth on your cunt.”
Holly nods. “Yes. Yes, it has. I totally agree.”
I’m going to fuck the sass right out of my sassy little wife. Well, maybe only most of it. I happen to like her sass. I reach up and grab the front of her lacy thong and rip it off.
“Hey!”
“Unless you’re moaning or saying ‘more’ or ‘harder’ or ‘yes’ or ‘like that’ or ‘Creighton, you’re a fucking pussy-eating god,’ I don’t want to hear it, Holly.”
I look up and catch her saucy grin.
This woman.
I wrap my hands around her thighs and yank her ass to the edge of the table. I don’t wait any longer before lowering my mouth to her cunt.
I could eat Holly’s pussy for every goddamn meal of the day. Using everything I’ve got—tongue, lips, teeth—I devour her until she’s writhing on the table. I slide two fingers inside her just as she begins to clench and the orgasm rips through her.
The muscles of my jaw tense in anticipation. I want to feel that on my dick. I pull back, grab her hand, and put it on her pussy.
“Keep touching yourself. I want you coming again by the time I’m splitting you wide open with my cock.”
Her eyes, already hazy, widen. But she complies, her hand landing on her clit and teasing and circling it in a way that prolongs her pleasure and has her hips bucking toward me.
I didn’t think my dick could get any harder than it already was, but watching her play and keep herself on the edge holds a top spot on the list of the sexiest fucking things I’ve seen Holly do.
I rip open my jeans, grip my shaft, and line the head up with her entrance. “Hard and fast, yeah?”
She nods, her head jerking.
“Then let’s get to breaking this fucking table.”
I slam home, balls deep in one thrust, and Holly’s scream of pleasure echoes in the small kitchen. Her pussy grips my cock and flutters, signaling the orgasm rippling through her.
“Jesus, woman.”
I slide out and thrust again. Over and over and over again, almost mindlessly. With one hand braced on the shaking table and the other wrapped around her hip, I use my thumb to help her stroke her clit, adding more pressure and sending her into spirals of pleasure as orgasm after orgasm streak through her.
I’ve lost count when she finally grabs my hand with hers and stills it. Which is probably a good thing, because my balls are so high and tight, they’re going to blow whether I want them to or not.
When I pump one last time, her inner muscles clench me so hard I can barely move. Then I let go, emptying myself inside her before twining her legs around me and lifting her up to my chest. Her head slumps against my shoulder, and we’ve taken two steps toward the stairs when the table groans.
And collapses.
Holly’s soft giggle is one of the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard in my life, and one I’ll never get enough of.