Same Time Next Year(24)

“Britta.” I look down into her face while dry fucking her, memorizing the sound of her whimper, the way she digs her knees into my sides. “I’m going to eat your pussy until you scream. Just lie there and take it.”

It’s like her whole body starts to hum, teeth sinking into that lush bottom lip, vibrations passing through her. “If you insist.”

“I’m not going to be neat about it. You have a problem with that?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You will.”

I kiss her mouth one more time, then pull back, looking her in the eye while I circle a hand around her throat, making sure she’s okay with it. And damn, she is. Her eyelashes flutter, and her thighs tremble a little, putting me even further on edge. Holding her there with just enough pressure to get her excited, I finally, finally, get my mouth on her tits. I lick both firm little globes until they’re covered completely in my spit, taking a moment to admire them, before tapping the flat of my tongue against her nipple, flicking it, then sucking deeply, drawing until I can feel her swallow thickly against the palm of my hand, followed by a gasp.

“Sumner.”

“Hold on, I’m apologizing for the way I’ve treated them in my dreams.” I lick to the opposite nipple and take it into my mouth on a groan, because the taste of her is actual milk-and-honey-flavored heaven. “I’ve done some very bad things to these tits in my head, Britta.”

Her fingers slip into my hair, twisting, her body writhing with a little more insistency every time I suck deep. “Like what?”

I shake my head, mentally admonishing myself for bringing this up.

“Shit a man doesn’t do to his wife.”

“Tell me,” she whispers.

“No.”

“You’re holding my throat, and I wouldn’t have expected that from you.” She fits a hand over mine, and we squeeze her there together, her pupils dilating in the darkness. “And I like it.”

We’re down to three pumps, ladies and gentlemen. “Britta, please

. . . ,” I groan, moving my hips faster, slapping hard between her thighs.

God, oh God, I’m not even inside her yet, and my life is flashing in front of my eyes.

“Sumner, you’re going to do these things with me . . .” She wets her lips, her words releasing in a harsh exhale. “Because if you do them to someone else, I will have to murder them with my bare hands.”

At first, I’m not sure I heard her correctly. But . . . did I?

I did.

My wife is possessive.

Part of me wants to laugh out loud because the very idea that I could even consider another woman is so far outside the realm of possibility, she has no idea. What women? Where? I’m blind to every last one of them.

There’s only Britta.

Mainly, however, I’m fucking outraged that she might spend a single second feeling jealous. My wife? Jealous? No. Never. I enabled her to track my location on her phone as a formality, but deep down, I didn’t think she needed it with any kind of immediacy.

I drag my open mouth up her throat and fasten it over hers, suctioning her into a hard kiss before pulling back an inch, leaving our foreheads pressed together. “I’ve never thought of spitting on and slapping another woman’s tits. Only these.” I massage her breast in my hand, listening to her breath stutter in and out, gratified to see wonder instead of hesitancy.

“Mentally, I’ve pushed these sweet things together and fucked them so many times. Come on them. Made you lick it up—”

I’m not even finished yet, and she’s shoving my jeans down, leaning up to snag my mouth in a frantic kiss. Together we work my pants down below my hips, followed by my briefs, but I catch her wrist before she can attempt to fist my cock.

“Next time, Britta, I’ll let you play with my dick as long as you want.

But tonight, I’m barely going to hold it together long enough to give you head. And I really, really need to get my tongue in it. If you think I’ve been fantasizing about doing filthy things to your tits, it’s nothing compared to how nasty I’ve been licking this pussy.” I kiss her hard, nip at her chin with my teeth. On my way down her body, I stop at her tits, and looking her in the eye, I spit on each of them once, rubbing my saliva everywhere with my fingertips, then slap at them gently. Harder, sharper, when she arches her back and moans to encourage me.

Son of a bitch, she’s into it. Nails digging into my shoulders, hips refusing to stay still as I smack those beauties and watch them bounce, shake for me. I’m rubbing my erection against her thigh, and the friction is making me see double.

Get down there and make her come.

I’m running out of time, and there is no way on God’s green earth that I’m leaving this bedroom until she’s not only satisfied but convinced she just had a religious experience. But I can’t keep my hands off her tits, even as my open mouth skates down her belly, laps at the soft skin there, then takes bites out of her sexy hips. I press my face into her mound and inhale deeply, letting the honey scent of her soak into my fucking bones.

“I’m taking your panties off now, Britta.”

“Yes,” she rasps. “Okay.”

“Damn.” I bite her through the damp cotton. “My wife is fucking soaked.”