“You don’t think love is real?”
“I trust that it’s real. I believe that it’s real. I know what I feel for you inside my heart, my soul, is real. But when I think and try to know, that’s when I start to wonder and doubt and… remember.”
She was pretty sure his sudden bout of remembering was really eating at him.
“You can tell what you remember,” she said. “You never talk about your past.”
“I don’t want or need to talk about my past. It’s over. I can’t change one second about it. Can’t we just be happy with what we have now? Does it really matter that I have a hard time believing you love me because no one has ever wanted to love me before? I mean, shit, Reb, you can’t possibly want to love me. I’m a fucking train wreck. I keep waiting for you to say, I’m over it. Thank God I finally came to my senses. I must have been drugged or something. Who would ever want to love that weirdo?”
Her heart twisted until she thought her chest might implode.
“Eric, I want to love you,” she said. “I do. I’m glad I love you. Can I help how I feel? No. I think I pretty much have to love you at this point—you are beyond wonderful to me, but I also want to love you. You deserve so much love in your life. I willingly give you all I have. I promise you that.”
But would it ever be enough? The thing that could fill his life with more love, all the love he could possibly ever need—a child of his own—she could never give him. So he needed a whole lot of loving to compensate. She just hoped she had enough.
“If I promise to believe you love me, can I carry you over the threshold, strip that dress off you, and fuck you like there’s no tomorrow?”
She sighed, knowing this would go nowhere as long as his thoughts were consumed with lust.
“I’m not sure what you’re waiting for,” she said with a smile, resolved to tackle the issue when he was ready. At the moment he was only ready for one thing, and she knew she could meet that need for sure. “Are you going to make me wait for it, husband? My pussy is dripping for you, you know.”
“Woman,” he growled, “why do you torment me?”
“Because I love you,” she said.
She squeaked in surprise when he scooped her into his arms and carried her over the threshold.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Sticks,” he said.
“Welcome home, Mr. Sticks,” she returned.
“Now for that bed.” He only managed a few steps before getting caught in her train and stumbling into the wall behind the open front door. “I’m sorry, but this dress has to go. Who invented these things? Fathers who wanted their daughters to remain virgins on their wedding night?”
Laughing, Rebekah clung to his neck. “Take my virginity now, husband,” she said. “Please!”
“I was going to carry you to bed before fucking you like there’s no tomorrow,” he said.
“If there was really no tomorrow, would you bother taking me to bed, or would you fuck me right here on the foyer floor with my skirt over my head?”
He paused for a second, glancing out of the corner of his eye as he contemplated her logic. “Good point.”
Eric set her on her feet and the door slammed closed. Startled, she turned around, and it took her a long moment to register what she was actually seeing.
“Eric!” she squeaked. “Where are your pants?”
He grinned down at his stiff cock, standing proud just beneath the hem of his white T-shirt. “I left them in the car. Didn’t think I’d need them.”
She snorted with laughter, wondering if any of their neighbors had driven by and witnessed bare-assed Eric in his tuxedo jacket and Converse tennis shoes standing on the front porch.
She crooked a beckoning finger at him, her cheeks aching from smiling so broadly. “Come here, you.”
“Am I in trouble?”
He took a hesitant step forward, and she clutched his shirtfront in one hand before dragging him to the floor on top of her.
“You’re in huge trouble,” she said, tumbling him onto his back. “I’m sure the cops are on their way at this very moment to arrest you for indecent exposure.”
His eyes widened. “Quick! Hide the evidence.”
She grinned wickedly. “My pleasure.”
She straddled his hips and carefully arranged her skirts around them. “They’ll never find it now,” she said. “No one would ever think to look under there.”
His mouth dropped open as she rubbed her ass against his hard length. She wasn’t sure what had him so excited. Actually, Eric was always excited. She’d have been surprised if he weren’t.
“I think they might check under your skirt,” he said breathlessly. “Can’t you think of a better place to slip it into? Someplace warm and soft and slick.”
If her panties hadn’t been in the way, she’d have already slipped it into someplace warm and soft and slick.
One of his hands yanked her loosened bodice down so he could palm her breasts. His other hand was lost somewhere beneath the billowy cloud of her skirt.
“You’ll have to give me a hint,” she said. “Where do you want it?”
Beneath her skirt, his hands stroked her skin, slowly making its way toward the moist heat between her thighs. His fingers slipped beneath the elastic at the crotch of her panties. Her eyelids fluttered as he stroked her inner folds and teased her opening.
“This feels about right,” he whispered.
“It feels right to me.” She lifted her hips so he could guide himself into her.
She sank down on him with a sigh of pleasure. The panties cutting into her tender flesh delivered an unexpected thrill as she began to rise and fall over him. She took her time, rotating her hips to work him deep inside her body, staring into his eyes to work him deep inside her heart.
She didn’t fuck him like there was no tomorrow. She made love to him like there were infinite tomorrows that still wouldn’t be enough.
Chapter Eleven
Eric watched Rebekah through half-closed eyes because the feel of her above him, around him, made it difficult to hold his eyelids open at all. The floor at his back was hard, cool, and unyielding, but the woman above was all softness, warmth, and comfort—his personal bliss. The fading sunlight glowed orange through the windows on either side of the entry door and bathed his wife in the surreal golden aura of the divine, of someone gifted to him directly from the heavens. An angel. His angel.
And he was certain the pussy squeezing and tugging him toward oblivion was lined with warm, molten gold. Eric had had his share of Certified Grade A Pussy in his life, but Rebekah’s out-fucked them all. Which made it all but impossible to hold his desire in check.
He closed his eyes a moment and allowed himself to concentrate on nothing but the hot, slick flesh surrounding him. Tugging. Rubbing. Encompassing. His belly clenched and his balls tightened. He gasped as a hard spasm at the base of his cock made it jerk inside her.
“Rebekah?” he called breathlessly.
“Not yet, baby. Almost.”
He dug his fingertips into the hardwood beneath him and forced his orgasm back—knowing exploding inside her would feel fan-fucking-tastic now but would be even better if he could delay his gratification longer.
He pried his eyes open, needing to focus on something other than the feel of her rising and falling over his over sensitized length.
She was still aglow with the light of the sunset. Her chin-length blond and purple hair swayed each time her hips lowered. His gaze traveled down the delicate curve of her jaw, slender neck, prominent collarbones, and the gentle swells of her breasts above the cups of her lacy bra.
If only he’d thought to unhook it when he’d been pressed against her back earlier. He knew he couldn’t reach the hooks without shifting positions. As if reading his mind, Rebekah reached behind her back and released the clasp. When he glanced up, she smiled at him. Apparently his fixated gaze had made him easy to read. She slipped the straps down her arms and tossed the bra aside. His gaze wan
dered downward and he was blessed with the sight of her perky tits bouncing enticingly above the loosened bodice of her billowing white dress. He lifted a hand to cup one breast, stroking the rosy nipple at the center. She moaned, churning her hips to work her clit against him. She was close, he realized. He considered fumbling around beneath her dress until he found her center—he knew he could send her flying with a few strokes of her clit—but damned if she didn’t look hot with her tongue pressed against her upper lip and her eyes squeezed shut as she sought her release.
He plucked her nipple, and her back arched.
“Yes,” she groaned.