Chapter Five

“I’d rather show you, here, now.”

“Are you going to talk me death or fuck me?”

He waggles his eyebrows, removes his shirt and next his trousers. A light covering of dark hair dusts his chest and travels downward into a vee. A shiver ripples through me.

I want to recapture the passion we once shared. Michael’s breathing accelerates and he covers his body with mine. I force my hand into the small space separating our bodies and fondle his nipple, swirl it around and recall how much he loves that. Reminding myself to be patient, I bring my mouth to the hard, puckered bud. I circle it with my tongue, take the sensitive nub into my mouth and suckle him like a newborn.

I want to do so much more, suck his cock until he’s mad with desire, taste his essence. With my mouth still on his nipple, I slide my hand down his thigh and find his cock. He’s harder than a walking stick made from chestnut wood. My fingers grasp his dick and slide up and down the length. A series of strangled moans rush from his luscious lips when I ride it hard with cupped palm, up and down, applying pressure on the underside with my thumb and again near his leaking slit.

“Suck me, Clare,” he whispers. “Suck me hard.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. I recall with perfect clarity the pleasure Michael can dole out; pleasure I will be blessed with when my time comes.

“Lie on your back, Michael.” I don’t have to ask him again either. Sliding down his body, I become aware of the heaviness of my breasts, the rhythmic throbbing of my clit. Soon, he will ease that pulsating need with his beautiful mouth, take me to a place I've been so many times with him but never traveled with another. I doubt there’s a man in the world who can bring about that abandon in me, elicit that driving need to turn inside out from the rapture.

Wrapping my lips around his cock, I take only the head into my mouth. I suck and nip before I swallow the entire length. A giggle rises up from my chest but I suppress it. I’ve forgotten how to relax my throat while performing oral sex, another sign our sex life has waned. Akin to riding a bicycle, the skill returns within seconds. He tastes glorious, musky with a tinge of salt and pure male. I work his cock in and out of my mouth, in perfect sync with his arching pelvis. My reward is his animalistic groans and sighs.

“Clare, baby, you better stop. I can’t take anymore. I want you to suck me in to eternity but if you keep that up, I’ll come.”

Baby. How long has it been since he’s called me baby?

With reluctance, I withdraw my mouth. I long to hear more of the low growls and husky noises he makes. I miss them. Miss him.

He pulls me down beside him. “Your turn.”

Then he rises from the bed and for a brief moment, panic assails me. I don’t have to wonder long what he’s up to. He walks to the curtains and widens the small crack, allowing more light to filter into the room. A flock of Butterflies nosedive in my stomach. Before our sex life went south, he always wanted the light on when we made love, particularly while licking and tonguing my pussy.

Like most men, Michael is a visual person when it comes to sex, insisting that seeing my body’s reaction to his skillful efforts is the best turn-on in the world.

“It’s unimaginable,” he would say, “that I can make your body quiver with need, see your pussy pool with moisture because I made it happen.”

A series of tremors consume me when he returns to my side and spreads my legs apart with his knees. Grabbing a pillow next to my head, he shoves it beneath my hips and cups my bottom. “Close your eyes, Clare. I want you to visualize what I'm doing to you.”

I obey and will my body to relax against the building anticipation. Michael pushes my knees apart, opens me wide. I feel his hot breath against my thigh before it whispers over my aching clit. I gasp when a finger slips in, not from pain, but from sheer want.

“God, you're wet, baby. Hot and wet for me.”

“Yes, yes.” I think I say the words out loud but already my grasp on reality has taken a big hit. Two fingers, maybe three slip in. I no longer know. Rotating my hips, I manipulate the direction of his fingers. A hand brushes against my abdomen and presses down hard.

I cry out. “There, Michael, yes. Don't stop.”

He's found my sweet spot already. Guess there are some things couples never forget.

My head rocks on the pillow. The elusive release I long for seems only a breath away. Behind my closed eyes, lights swirl and flash. The muscles in my womb clench around his fingers.

I hear his voice coming to me through a tunnel. “Not yet, my sweet wife, not yet.”

I miss his fingers immediately when he removes them. I want to protest because a lonely, bereft sensation has found me. Not for long. His tongue finds my clit. He licks the pulsating nub and then nips the tip with his teeth before closing his lips around the hot bud. Oh God, I find paradise again, raw, primal ecstasy.

My hips arch upward and a series of staccato cries escape my lips. “Fuck me, Michael. Please, fuck me now.”

I open my eyes and see him rising above me, spreading my legs farther apart. The pressure of his thighs on mine is like ecstasy. Now. Oh, God now. Everything meshes—his mouth on mine, his methodical, slow entry, my internal muscles sheathing him like a vise. I bite my lower lip from the exquisite stretching of my womb when he buries his cock to the hilt.

Our eyes meet and hold, our rapid, short breathing the only sound in the room. “Slow and easy, Clare. I've waited too long for this for it to be over so soon.”

“Drive into me until I can’t walk, my love.”

He fucks me rhythmically, fast and hard. My body slides up the bed, my head connecting with the headboard. I can’t speak and I struggle to draw breath. If I could talk, I’d say, “More. Don't stop, don't ever stop.”

I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him in deeper. This is Eden, nirvana, and Heaven all rolled into one.

I send a silent prayer skyward, aware of the lone tear sliding down my cheek. Thank you. My Michael has finally come home.

~The End~

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About the Author

Keta Diablo lives in the Midwest part of the United States on six acres of gorgeous woodland. When she isn't writing or gardening, she loves to commune with nature. A pair of barn owls returns to the property every year to birth their young and show them off in the high branches of the oak trees. Nothing more adorable than these white fluffy babies with heart-shaped faces. A lifelong animal lover, Keta devotes her time and support to the local animal shelter.

Keta is an award-winning and Amazon bestselling author who writes in several genres: Western Romance, Historical Romance, Paranormal Romance and Contemporary Romance. Occasionally, she writes Gay Romance. Her books have received numerous accolades, including RWA contest finalist, Authors After Dark finalist, Top Pick of the Month and Recommended Review from many top review sites, and Best Romance Finalist from The Independent Author Network.