She nods, drifting her finger across my lower lip. “It goes against every single feminist feeling I have inside of me, but I can’t help but enjoy it when you’re like this.”
I snag hold of her hand, my fingers curling around her wrist. “You want me to go caveman on you tonight?”
A giggle escapes her, dying on her lips when she sees the serious expression on my face. “Caveman, Crew? Really?”
“We haven’t…cut loose in a long time,” I remind her. “We’re distracted.”
Her smile fades. “Because of Willow.”
“You’re always keeping an ear out for her.”
“So are you.”
The server appears and we make our drink orders. I order a whiskey neat and Wren orders some fruity cocktail with a holiday theme, plus she asks for an appetizer. We continue chatting, sipping our drinks when they arrive, eventually ordering our entrees once the server brings us our appetizer. By the time dinner is finished, I’m leaning back in my chair, two whiskeys in, my gaze locked on my wife’s flushed face as she slurps from her second Christmas cocktail of the night.
“I’m such a lightweight.” She hiccups, setting her glass down at the same moment her eyes go wide. “I probably shouldn’t have drunk all that.”
“Why not?” Can’t hurt to loosen up a bit, right?
“It could get in my breast milk.” She clutches her ripe tits for emphasis. “What if I get Willow drunk?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “You won’t get our daughter drunk. By the time we pick her up tomorrow, it should all be out of your system.”
“Are you sure?”
“Babe.” I grab her hand yet again and give it a squeeze. “I’m positive. Now let’s get the bill paid so we can get the hell out of here and I can get your pretty, naked ass in bed.”
The sly smile on Wren’s face makes my heart beat a little harder, swear to God.
5
WREN
“I’m so full,” I say as Crew practically drags me down the hall toward our hotel room.
Ugh, it’s true. I’m full of delicious food and I’m a little drunk on sweet, holiday themed cocktails, and I sort of want to take a nap. That sounds delicious. Almost as delicious as the food we ate and the drinks I consumed. Probably as delicious as the taste of my man’s lips and the way his eyes roam over me, like he’s imagining me naked.
Okay, maybe I’m not that full. I need to stay awake and alert because something amazing is sure to happen once we get inside that hotel room. Anticipation floods my veins, settling with a throb between my thighs, and when we come to a stop in front of our room door, I press my thighs together to stave off the sudden ache.
Crew opens the door with ease and ushers me inside the darkened room, the door slamming shut and cutting off the light shining from the corridor. Once again, I’m pushed against the wall, my butt hitting it first before he’s on me, his mouth finding mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth, his hands everywhere at once.
It’s an assault to my senses, the way he’s consuming me. As if he can’t get enough. I feel the same hunger rising within me, my hands running down the front of his chest, fingers teasing the hem of his sweater, brushing against the hot, hard skin of his stomach.
“Take it off,” I murmur against his mouth, and he pulls away without saying a word, whipping the sweater up and off, letting it fall to the floor. I reach for him once more, eager fingers skimming over his naked skin, drifting across the center of his chest, where I can feel his heart beat.
With a languid sigh, I lean in, pressing my cheek against his chest, listening to the rapid thump of his heart. He rests his hand against my hair, the other hand tugging on the hem of my dress, and when I pull away, I see the darkness filling his blue eyes. I know what he wants.
So I give it to him.
I grab the bottom of my dress and pull it up, over my head, wincing at all of the sequins getting tangled in my hair before I eventually remove it completely. I drop the dress onto the floor, standing in front of him in just my black thong, the black industrial strength maternity bra that keeps my breasts in place, yet also somehow manages to look sexy, and my silver heels.
“Woman.” He rubs at his chin while he studies me, his gaze eating me up from head to toe. “You are sexy as fuck.”
There are stretch marks on my stomach and a hint of cellulite on the back of my thighs but I still stand up straighter, practically preening for him. “You know just how to boost my confidence, Crew.”
“I love you.” His words, his gaze, they feel so serious that my mood becomes somber too. “I love you so fucking much, Wren. You don’t even know how bad I have it for you.”
I saunter toward him, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor, his hands finding my hips the moment I’m close enough to him. “I think I know,” I whisper when I wrap my arms around his neck. “Because I feel the same exact way.”
I have no recollection how we got there, but we somehow end up on the bed, Crew lying on top of me, my legs spread to accommodate him. I can feel his erection nudging against my throbbing center and I wiggle beneath his weight, trying to get him to hit a particular spot that I know will feel good.
Without warning he reaches in between us, his fingers finding the front of my damp thong, pressing against me with just enough pressure that when I close my eyes, I see stars. He kisses me hungrily, only breaking away to whisper, “I don’t know if I should fuck this pussy first or eat it.”
His fingers press harder, making me hiss in pleasure.
“Eat it,” I say without hesitation. “Please.”
He chuckles. “Whatever my wife desires.”
Within seconds he’s sliding down my body, his mouth mapping my skin, kissing me in spots that haven’t been touched by his lips in ages. It’s not that we don’t have sex anymore—it’s that we don’t have sex as often as we used to, and when we do, it’s usually hurried. Or I’m either too tired or feeding Willow or…
“Wren.”
His firm voice breaks through my thoughts and I glance down at him to find he’s lying between my spread legs, his mouth perilously close to where I want it the most. “Y-yes?”
“I think I lost you for a second.” He grabs hold of my hand, interlacing our fingers and I cling to him, watching with breathless anticipation as he leans in and presses his face directly against me. He breathes in, as if he’s inhaling me, his eyes closing. He glances up, his lips curled into the faintest smile.
Then he nudges aside the thin fabric of my thong and attacks me with his greedy mouth.
I throw my head back on a moan, my hand taut in his, gripping him tight as I lift my hips to seek more of his mouth. He licks and sucks, slides a finger inside of me carefully, like he’s testing me, and a groan falls from my lips.
“Still want me to eat it? Or fuck it?”
I crack open my eyes and glance down to find him watching me. The words sound extra filthy coming from his damp lips, and I answer without hesitation.
“Eat it. Then fuck it.”
“Dirty girl.” He grins just before he tugs my thong down, yanking it off quickly and tossing it aside. He drapes my legs over his shoulders and settles in, his tongue searching, covering every single spot until I’m a gasping, straining mess. My orgasm is there, just on the horizon and I reach for it, closing my eyes tight, smashing my torso against my husband’s face. It’s so close yet so far—