Page 31 of Never Enough

She folds that bottom lip into her mouth, sucking on it, and my cock throbs so hard it's almost painful.

"You're so fucking sexy, Gracie. I want to take you on a proper honeymoon so I can get you naked and keep you that way for at least a week."

She holds my gaze. Doesn't look away. Doesn't flinch.

Her hands go to the bottom of her shirt, and she whips it off in one fluid movement. Her bare breasts are heavy and perfect. Tipped with hard pink nipples that beg for my mouth.

I lean up and lick one, sucking the beaded tip into my mouth.

She moans and then pulls away from me. "Touch yourself first," she says. "I really want to watch." She scoots further away from me this time, opening her legs so I can see the wetness marking the center of her plain white panties.

I climb off the bed and reach into my boxers, pull myself free.

Her eyes lock onto my hand wrapped around my length, and then she glances up at my face. "I’m not going to lie, husband, your dick is impressive. But I’m pretty sure you have to do more than just hold it. Show me.”

“Say it again,” I say.

“That your dick is impressive?”

I shake my head. “The other thing. What you called me.”

“Husband.”

I groan and pump my fist.

“You like that?” she asks, feigning innocence. “Husband?”

Another pump.

My cock is heavy and thick in my fist. “Bossy little thing.”

She licks her lips, then her gaze drops to my erection.

I stroke myself. Slow. Deliberate. Letting her see every movement—the twist of my wrist at the head, the tight grip on the downstroke.

"Put your hand in your panties," I tell her. My voice is rough and full of gravel. "Dip your fingers in all that wetness and give me a taste."

She doesn't hesitate. Her hand slides beneath the cotton. Her moan is low and desperate as she touches herself.

I squeeze my cock hard. I do not want to come just from watching her stick her hand down her panties. But my body apparently has different plans, because everything in me is pulled taut, every muscle coiled, every nerve ending screaming.

She withdraws her hand slowly. Holds it up. Her fingertips glisten in the low light of the bedroom.

I lean forward, close the distance between us, and pull her fingers into my mouth.

The taste of her hits my tongue—sweet and musky and completely addictive. A growl rips from my throat. I suck her fingers clean, and her eyes go wide, her lips parting on a shaky exhale. She tastes like everything I've been starving for.

Then I'm coming down on top of her, and we're kissing again. Her hands go to my back, her short nails scrape against my skin as she arches up to meet me.

"What are you doing to me, Firefly?" I press the words into the curve of her neck. "I feel like if I don't touch you, I'll lose my fucking mind."

"Then touch me." Her hands spread wide. “Have me, husband. Make me yours.”

Flushed cheeks. Kiss-swollen lips. Brown eyes soft and wanting, and so open it makes my chest ache. She's spread beneath me on my bed, half-undressed, her hair fanned across the pillows, and she's looking at me like I'm the only thing in the room. The only thing in her world.

"You don't even know how breathtaking you are, do you?"

She gives me a shy smile. The kind that makes her look like the girl I fell for so many years ago.