“Yes, I can.” I smile. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“Maybe a little one,” he replies. He looks so impossibly handsome and I’m this close to jumping his bones and would totally be giving him road head on the way home if it weren’t for Clarence, our baby boy, fast asleep between us.
He’s almost a year old and growing fast. He’s taking after his father too, and I won’t be surprised if we have another star athlete on our hands one day. It was a little embarrassing starting to show at the end of my senior year, but on the other hand, everyone knew it was Jay Moore’s baby, so if anything, girls were jealous of me.
I finished up my art major with flying colors, but also had to transfer to SCAD when Jay got drafted by the Atlanta Braves. He got a house in Atlanta and we’d visit each other as often as possible. It was sort of a semi-long-distance thing for a while there, but we both knew this wasn’t going to be a fling, so we pushed through. In fact, I think it just made us stronger.
Now we’re living in Atlanta, he’s playing ball like he always knew he would, and I’m working on my first exhibit that is set to open in two weeks. Semi-abstract landscapes of oil and a bit of mixed media. A local gallery made me the offer.
I was hesitant at first; I thought they only wanted me because I was Jay Moore’s wife, but then I learned that Pablo, the gallery owner, actually didn’t follow baseball at all and couldn’t care less. In fact, he asked Jay not to come so we could avoid the paparazzi, and to show up in disguise if he came at all.
We stayed engaged all the way through school and got married right after graduation at this gorgeous resort in New Hampshire on the coast. It turns out his mom was originally from there, and I’d always wanted to see New England. It was a whirlwind – a blur that I was sure I would wake up from, but here I am today with my baseball star husband and perfect son.
Martha came to the wedding – I think just to remind me of “how she knew better” than I did when Jay first showed interest in me. She’s living in New York now doing design for a small clothing company that makes scarves and hats. I miss her, but she’s thinking of coming down to visit this summer.
We get home and put Clarence down together. Jay has a celebratory dinner tonight with the team but is all sweaty from the game and still sticky from the champagne sprayed all over them.
“Gonna help wash me off?” he asks with a wink as he shrugs out of his T-shirt. As always, I feel the same flood of attraction for him that I always feel, and apparently always will. So much for that whole marriage-getting-stale thing, I guess!
“Is that even a question?” I tease as I prance past him into the bathroom, sliding my pants down over my booty as I go. I’m wearing a tiny little thong that I leave on as my husband follows after me. As I lean into the shower to turn the water on, his fingers find the hem of my shirt and pull it up and over my head. Smiling, I turn around and undo the buckle on his pants.
“How did I get so lucky?” I muse as I feel the bulge beginning to swell against my hand.
“That’s a question I ask myself every day.” He smiles, pressing his lips against mine. Talking to Jay is like talking to an artificial intelligence machine that’s been designed to melt women’s hearts – designed to melt my heart. He always knows the exact right thing to say to drive me crazy.
I know it sounds like I’m lying, but we really don’t fight. We just don’t. I think it’s because we’re so up front with each other and never lie. It all started way back in college when I was up front with him and has continued all the way until now. The biggest argument we ever had was over whether or not sugar bee apples are better than honey bee apples, and that just ended up with Jay pinning me down on the floor of the living room and nipples down my body before burying his face between my legs—
…like he’s doing now.
“Oh, baby…” I mutter as his tongue drags up my slit and flattens on my clit. A shudder of pleasure courses through my body and I brace myself on his head as he kneels before me. His eyes, gorgeous and loving, look up at me as he coaxes me quickly toward a climax, knowing exactly what to do to drive me crazy.
I come hard, my juices coating his tongue and cheeks as his eyes smile up at me. I’m still shaking when he stands, takes me by my hips, and bends me over the tub. I brace myself against the little shelf on the wall that holds my African black soap and my Moroccan oil shampoo and brace myself for the little sting I’m going to feel when he slides inside.
I always have and always will. He’s just that big. But I’ve grown to love it now, because I know that it means I’m about to go for the ride of my life, a ride only my husband knows how to give me. The only man I’ve ever had, the only man I ever will.
“God, I love you,” I groan as he stretches me around the thick tip of his Adonis dick.
“I know,” he growls as he runs his hands over my back.
“Say it, you big jerk!” I tell him.
“Say what?” he asks as he drives his cock deep inside me, shaking me
to my core.
“Oh, you son of a bitch…” I moan, slumping forward as he starts to fuck me. His hands, strong and rough, move up to my chest. He tweaks my nipple gently and presses his lips to my ear.
“I love you too, baby. Always and forever.”
The End
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