I dive right in, face between her legs, I latch my lips around her clit and gently suck.
Daisy’s hips jolt forward. “Flynn!” she exclaims, but for the first time since she got home, she also giggles. “You’re insane!”
After one long stroke of my tongue against her, I smack my lips in approval. “Yes, baby, I am insane for this sweet-as-fuck pussy of yours.”
And then, I get back to work. Sucking and licking and eating at her. Sliding my tongue inside her and feeling the way her walls clench around me.
I give her no mercy. I don’t hold back. And I enjoy every fucking second of her on my tongue.
She moans, and her laptop falls to the cushion beside her. And eventually, her fingers find their way into my hair, urging me to keep going.
“Good girl,” I whisper against her. “I want you to feel good. I want you to come hard on my tongue. Will you do that for me, Daisy? Will you let me make you come?”
“Y-yes. God, yes.”
Once her breaths become tiny pants of air and her legs begin to shake, I know that, in a matter of seconds, Daisy will fall off the cliff and straight into the pleasure abyss where all she can do is feel good. Where whatever had her so quiet and reserved when she got home this evening will no longer be weighing her down.
She doesn’t disappoint. She never disappoints.
Her moans turn raspy, sexy-as-hell, and just as she hits her peak, I look up to watch the way her full lips part, her cheeks flush, and her breasts heave up and down.
Fuck yes. That’s my wife.
Saturday, May 18th
Daisy
Eyes bleary and brain begging for coffee, I shuffle out of the bedroom and down the hallway.
After I came home last night, all stressed out and anxious and locked inside my own head, I was prepared to burrow myself into work that could’ve waited until Monday and just…I don’t know…ignore—more like, avoid—everything.
But the night took an unexpected turn.
A “Flynn’s head between my legs” kind of turn, and next thing I knew, we were naked, in bed, and I was giving my best impression of a rodeo queen while he was gripping my ass and whispering dirty things into my ear.
Sometimes, it feels like Flynn just intuitively knows when I need a distraction.
Because he does. Which begs the question, what are you going to do without him?
As I step into the kitchen, the soft sounds of classical music playing from the Bluetooth speakers fill my ears, and I find Flynn sitting at the table with a newspaper in his hands. And not the digital newspaper most people read from their phones, but the actual newspaper with real paper and ink.
I don’t know why, but there’s something so sexy about a man reading the newspaper. Especially when it’s Flynn and he’s wearing only a pair of boxer briefs.
Boxer briefs that give quite the show of the kind of heat he’s packing…
“You doing okay over there, babe?”
I blink past the fantasy fog and realize I’m just standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at him quite…crudely. Well, hell. Apparently, I’m a pervert.
Flynn quirks a questioning brow, and I bumble my way through an awkward nod, mumbling, “Mm-hmm,” as I head over to the coffeemaker.
“Coffee, huh? Seemed like you were headed in my direction.”
I glance over my shoulder and find him smiling at me in a way that makes me wonder if he has any clue how attractive he is.
Seriously. Why’s he gotta be so damn good-looking?
Hand to my hip, I turn around and face him with a cheeky grin. “Maybe I was. But now I’m thinking you should come over here.”
Flynn doesn’t hesitate to set down his newspaper, get out of his chair, and stride straight toward me. I’m in his arms between one beat of my heart and the next, and his lips move against mine, slowly provoking an ache to stir between my thighs.
He deepens the kiss and slides his hands into my hair, and I’m allll about the direction this is heading, but Flynn slows the movements of his lips until he ends our embrace with a soft press of his mouth to mine. “Morning, babe.”
A few seconds later, he’s back at the table with his newspaper in his hands and his eyes scanning the pages.
Um…excuse me? Hello? Please, sir, I’d like some more.
I stare at him, as if my eyes alone have the power to get his attention, but he doesn’t look up from his paper. Mind you, a paper that isn’t feeling as sexy as it did before. If anything, it’s now the world’s greatest literary cockblock, and it’s ruining my selfish need for more attention from Flynn.