Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I groan in defeat, but then he licks me. I whimper as I take my wrist between my teeth, trying to suppress a moan. He kisses my clit, then my lower lips, before he says, “Finger yourself while I fuck your pussy with my tongue, Wife.”
“Are you trying to kill me dead?” I hiss at him, and he grins.
“I haven’t had you like this in eight years. I want it all.”
I scoff and correct him. “Three weeks, Coleson.”
“Eternity,” he throws back at me. “Now, do as I say.”
Oh, I love him. I groan his name while I move my finger along my taut nub. I’m so wet, and the first press of my fingers has my other hand about to break the headboard in half. His tongue slides into my entrance, licking and probing my pussy until I’m a mess of whimpers and cries. When I come, I break the skin on my wrist as I ride out my orgasm, and he chuckles beneath me. He kisses my lips, my thighs, even my entrance as I draw in deep breaths.
“I love this perfect pussy.”
Without realizing it, I’m moving, and then he fills me to the hilt with his cock. My head falls back as he holds my breasts in his hands, molding and squeezing them while taking time to roll my nipples between his fingers. I move up and down his cock, feeling him pulsate inside me. He’s almost there. He grips me by my hips, moving me quicker as he thrusts up into me. Our bodies crash together, and the sound is so unbelievably crude, I swear I could come right then and there. I reach behind me, taking his balls in my hand, rolling them, and that does him in. He comes with a hiss, arching up into me as I squeeze his cock with my pussy to milk him of every bit of his release.
I fall to his chest, and he wraps his arms around me, our lips meeting. I can taste myself on him, and I sigh deeply against his thick lips. The kiss is all tongue and nips, which are my favorite. While he was in the hospital, I was careful when I kissed him and touched him since I didn’t want to cause him any harm. It was a long two weeks in the hospital, and I’m surprised we made it with only those little kisses. It wasn’t until the third night in our rental that I let him take it further. Not this far, though.
These last three weeks have been rough, mentally and physically. I hate driving, but I’ve made the trip from Nashville to Knoxville and back with no hesitation. I don’t like leaving Coleson for long, but someone has to run the coffee shop. I’ll take driving over all the torture they put him through. And yes, it’s torture. My husband has been poked, prodded, and moved entirely too much, in my opinion. It kills me when he is in pain. Though, he tries to hide it.
My lips move from his lips to his jaw as our eyes meet. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Wife,” he whispers, kissing my bottom lip. “No pain whatsoever.”
I smile sweetly at him as I cup his jaw. “We probably should have waited until you were cleared.”
He scoffs. “I know my body, and I know I’m good—actually great, with your sweet ass bouncing on my cock.”
I smack his chest. “I don’t want to mess with your progress.”
He gives me a look. “Wife, the leg is fine. I can’t even move it.”
“But you can feel it.” He shrugs, and I don’t miss the way his lips pull back in a grimace. I pat his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“Isn’t your fault,” he grumbles, but we don’t talk about whose fault it is. Willis Barnes was suspended for eight games and fined five thousand dollars by the NHL. What I don’t think any of us expected was my peepaw instructing his lawyers to go after Barnes for a criminal offense since it was blatantly obvious he came for my husband with the intent of causing harm. We don’t talk about it much, but I know it means a lot to Coleson to have Peepaw on his side. It means everything to me.
“Still, I hate that you’re in more pain now.” He kisses my mouth then, softly, and I lean into the kiss. The pain blocker the surgeon put in has worn off, and his fear of getting addicted to pain pills is real. I wouldn’t have worried if he hadn’t been the one to ask me to keep up with how much he takes. I don’t think he wanted me to make a time sheet that includes an assessment of his pain level when he takes them, but here we are. Perks of a wife with undiagnosed OCD.