Page 101 of Walkoff Wedding

Much to my dismay, she didn’t get rid of everything she owns to live in my clothes. The pastel yellow skirt that she’s wearing shows off her creamy thighs, the white fitted shirt she’s wearing accentuates her curves, and of course, her favorite pink cardigan that I want to peel off her body.

When she comes to a halt between my spread legs, the corner of my mouth tugs into a grin as I snake my arm around her waist and haul her right into my lap.

She’s been gone since this morning working at the bakery, which means it’s been too fucking long since I touched her, and I need the contact.

“Session went good. I’m a little sore, but I usually am after we hit the cages that hard. And the meeting also went well. We’re going to try to get some shoots scheduled before the season kicks off.” I brush my thumb along the soft curve of her jaw. “How was your day? Any update from the detective?”

“Nothing concrete, but she said they’re exhausting all avenues. And we talked at length about Dixon and Brent, and she assured me that she’s going to follow up on every lead. It made me feel better talking with her. Knowing that someone is taking it seriously and it’s not just a file sitting on top of someone’s desk, you know?”

Her pale blue eyes are brighter tonight, and she does look inherently less worried than she has been the last few days, which makes me feel better. I hate seeing her worry about anything.

I’m just hoping that these assholes have realized how badly they fucked up now that the police are involved, and they leave her alone. That they don’t make the same mistake twice.

I honestly don’t think they ever expected Addie to actually go to the cops, but then again, we haven’t even been able to prove that it was really them behind any of it. Despite the shit that Dixon’s pulled in the past and Brent’s verbal threats to us, there isn’t any real evidence.

But everything’s been quiet, so I’m going to take that as a sign that, hopefully, it’s fucking over. That they’re backing off.

“Good, because I hate when you worry. You get this little line, right here.” I ghost my thumb along the spot between her brows that always furrows when she’s worried or lost in thought.

Addie’s face softens. “Very observant, husband.”

“Give me a little more time and I’ll have every inch of you memorized.” My voice comes out more rough than I intended, and her lips part, those pretty blues widening.

And just like that, I want her again. In the few days following my birthday, we haven’t been able to keep our hands off each other. A frantic hunger that we can’t ever seem to satiate, no matter how many times I fuck her. Eat her. Kiss her until her lips are bruised and swollen.

Each time, Addie blooms like a fucking flower beneath my hands. She’s increasingly less shy, less in her head, more able to embrace her pleasure, and I’m so goddamn thankful I get to witness it.

I’m obsessed with my wife and she’s just as ravenous for me as I am for her, and the result has been me taking her on every surface of our apartment.

Like the other night when we were sitting at the kitchen table studying, and she kept glancing up at me, shifting in her seat to the point that she was nearly squirming.

I knew exactly what she wanted, but I wanted to see where she would go with it. So, when she trailed her bare foot up my calf until it brushed directly over my cock, a coy smile on her pretty lips, I hauled her out of the chair and spread her out on the table, then ate her pretty pussy right on top of her textbooks and flash cards.

Needless to say, I think she aced that test. It was a very hands-on lesson.

Or the next day, when she walked in during my shower, and I made her take off her panties, sit on the counter with her legs spread, and make herself come while I stroked my cock and watched her.

See? Fucking obsessed with her, and I’m a hundred percent sure that it’ll always be that way. That I’ll never stop wanting her the way that I do now.

“Oh. I forgot… I made you something today,” she says, pulling me from my lust-filled memories. She hops up from my lap and walks over to the takeout box on the coffee table. “The first official batch of beignets since being back in the bakery. And it’s a new flavor.”

My interest is absolutely fucking piqued. If there’s one thing my girl does as well as her art, it’s baking.

“I need you to be the taste tester.” She slides back into my lap, straddling my hips as she opens the box and pulls out a beignet. My mouth fucking waters when the aroma hits my nose. “It’s a strawberry beignet with homemade strawberry whipped cream icing.”

Strawberries started as her favorites, and now they’re mine. Probably because her lips taste like them from how much she eats them, and now I fucking crave the taste.

“Say less. Feed it to me, baby.”

Her giggle is soft and sweet as she lifts the fried dough to my lips, and I take a bite. Sweetness explodes on my tongue in bright, blinding flavor, and I groan around the mouthful. I’m pretty positive it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

Well, aside from my wife.

“Holy fuck,” I mumble. “This is goddamn incredible, Addie.”

Her face lights up. “Really? You like it?”

I nod as I swallow the rest. “Fuck yeah, I love it. I want an entire damn box.”

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