“You are the best husband… I wouldn’t change anything about you. You were there for me when I lost my father. You were there for me when I needed to be saved. You were there for me when I needed a friend. I don’t love the way we got here, but I wouldn’t change any of it for anything. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.”
He brought our faces close together again. “I never wanted a wife. But now I can’t imagine being with any woman besides you. I want you every day for the rest of my life. I want to be buried beside you until the sun burns out. I want to have children with you…grow old with you.”
My hands cupped his face as more tears spilled down my cheeks. “Me too…”
The sound of the fire in the hearth was unnoticeable because our heavy breathing drowned it out. We’d spend the early part of the day screwing, but now we moved together like that never happened. With my ankles locked together at the top of his ass, I rocked with him as he drove deep inside me.
Over and over.
My fingers cherished the feeling of his powerful back, starting at his shoulders and making their way down the flanks of muscle that hugged his spine. When he hit me in just the right place, my nails came out like claws, and I carved into his back, leaving scratches that would last for days.
He was always so beautiful when he was sexy and fatigued. His body always performed to its full potential to please me, the muscles working hard to lift his body and then slide it back down so he could ram his cock deep inside me.
I loved making love to my husband. “Maverick…” I no longer felt the rush of lust that used to swell inside my veins. Now, I felt the deep passion that stemmed from love, that grew from a lifelong commitment neither one of us would break. I wanted this man for the rest of my life. I’d never wanted a poor replacement, a substitute that could never compare.
My fingers scratched at his ass before they moved into his hair once more. I ground my hips and rocked with his movements, so close to a climax I could already feel it. My toes curled preemptively, and my limbs clenched as my body constricted around him.
He must have felt me tighten around him because he started to pound me into hard, driving me into an orgasm that brought tears to my eyes. His powerful ass worked hard to give it to me good, to give me every inch so deeply.
My arms latched on to his body, and I gripped him firmly as I rode the high, my blood burning because it felt so good. When I came with other lovers, the tears never sprang to my eyes because the sex had never been so good. Only one man could make me cry—and that was my husband.
He watched my expression change as it showed all my feelings, as my mouth flew open with a moan and my eyes watered with emotion. My cheeks flushed bright red, and I bit my bottom lip so I wouldn’t scream right in his face. He loved the performance I gave. It was obvious in the way his expression became so focused, the way his eyes didn’t blink because he didn’t want to miss a single second.
My face moved into his neck as I finished. The euphoria became overwhelming, so powerful that I needed to shield my look just so I could tolerate it. I gripped my husband like he was a life vest and held on for dear life.
It felt amazing to the very last second. Once the high passed, my body released and the tears stopped.
Oh god, that felt so good.
Maverick continued to rock into me, his cock hardening just a little more as he prepared to finish.
I pulled my face away from the crook of his shoulder and met his look once again. My ring dragged along my chest as he moved, tapping against me with his thrusts. I watched him work to reach his climax, watched his glistening body move hard and fast to get to the end. His powerful arms pressed into the bed and kept his body up as he worked his hips. Deeper and deeper, he drove until he hit his threshold.
With a sexy moan, he came inside me.
I grabbed his ass and pulled him deeper, wanting every drop he could give. Sometimes his climaxes were better than mine just because I could feel his seed deep inside me. I moaned when I felt him fill me, felt my husband give himself to me.
The memory of the other women was long forgotten because it didn’t seem important anymore. It didn’t seem to matter at all—to either of us.