Page 18 of Six Month Wife

Her hands land on the edge of it, palms flat, legs spread enough to wreck me. She glances over her shoulder, hair messy, lips parted.

“Don't keep me waiting.”

That snaps whatever thread of restraint I had left.

I grab my jeans from the chair, fish out my wallet, and tear open a condom with my teeth. The sound is impossibly loud in the thick, charged air. I roll it on fast, my chest rising hard, then step behind her.

My hand slides along her spine, guiding her down, until she’s bent over the table, ass tilted, glistening and ready for me. I catch her hip with one hand, line up with the other, and push in. I go slowly at first, the head spreading her sex for me to glide in.

She gasps. I slap her ass as I drive into her.

“More,” she pants. “All of it.”

I don’t make her ask again.

I drive into her in one smooth, tight thrust, and the sound she makes is raw and wrecked. It's going to haunt me for weeks.

She clenches around me, hot and slick and perfect. My fingers dig into her waist as I set a rhythm, thrusting deep and deliberate, spanking her as the pressure builds.

“God, Adair…” I groan, bending over her, my chest to her back. “You're a slice of fucking heaven.”

Her hand snakes back to grab my thigh, squeezing, digging her nails into my skin.

“Don’t stop. Right there. Fuck me.”

I thrust harder, angling until her breath catches on every push. The table creaks beneath us as her moans echo off the walls.

I reach around and stroke her where she’s already throbbing for me, slow and firm, and she shudders so hard I have to clutch her tighter to keep her steady. She comes fast and hard. Her whole body tenses around me like she’s holding on through a storm.

I follow seconds later, hips jerking, pulse exploding as I spill into her with a ragged growl.

We stay there, breathing hard, tangled in silence.

Then I lean in, planting a kiss on the back of her shoulder, because there’s nothing else in the world I want to say yet.

Nothing.

5

Adair

The day is dragging on.No customers, no deliveries. It’s me, a half-wiped counter, and way too much time to think.

I replay what happened with Parker on a loop. His mouth, his hands. The way he bent me over the table, the way he saidstillsweet. Sure, it was in the heat of the moment, but something about it was sincere.

Or, am I kidding myself? Maybe that’s all it was.

Part of me wonders if I really will hear from him again. Like my mom always said, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? What in the hell was I thinking, hooking up with him like that?

I shudder with embarrassment at the thought.

Almost as if on cue, the door swings open hard enough to startle me out of my head.

“Special delivery,” a voice calls out, muffled behind an absurdly large bouquet.

I blink. “What is this?”

He peeks his head around the corner, looking unfairly good with that crooked grin and a dozen roses in hand.