Page 88 of Feels Like Home

“I have implants.” That isnotwhat I was expecting atall.

“That’s it? That’s what you have to tell me?” She nods while still avoiding my eyes. “Christine, look at me. I’m not here to judge you. I don’t care. I love every inch of your body, whether it’s been touched up or natural. You’re stillyou.”

“You don’t, like, think I’m a slut or an egomaniac or anything? I just did it because I was tired of being even less than an A cup. No other reason thanthat.”

“A slut?” I guffaw. I fall over laughing, pressing my head into the pillow beside herhead.

“It’s not funny, Andy! I’m serious!” She’s giggling to herself and pushing lightly onme.

When I finally have my laughter under control, I sit up, straddling her. I take her hands in mine and move them so they’re above her head, giving her a look that I hope she reads as “Don’t you dare move those hands or I’ll spank your sweetass.”

My fingers make a trail from her wrists to her biceps, leaving goose bumps in their wake. I cover both breasts with the palms of my hands, my eyes never leavinghers.

“Beautiful,” I murmur before leaning down and pressing a kiss at the center of her chest and showering the rest of her with feather-lightkisses.

“Perfect.”

Kiss.

“Mine.”

Kiss.

Suck.

Lick.

Bite.

I alternate between sucking and licking, giving both fair attention. Her nails are digging into my scalp. A muffled curse explodes from her lips, and I have to fight back the urge to laugh at the unexpectedness ofit.

I knew being with Christine would be amazing, but I hadn’t taken into account how much fun it would be to learn all the things that make her tick. And I plan to take my time doing justthat.

I lick and then bite softly, causing her to writhe beneath me, crying my name from her lips, her voice husky and sexy andaddicting.

Making her come didn’t scratch the itch. Not a single bit. It’s like I rolled in a field of poison ivy, flaming the appetite my body had for hers. It tingles in awareness, wanting its turn, but I have otherplans.

So does she, itseems.

Before I can comment anymore on how I could give two turkeys less if she has fake boobs, I’m naked. Not sure how it happened, but she’s right there with me and we’re both breathing heavy and she’s grabbing at anything she can of mine, and I’m touching anything I can reach ofhers.

We’ve had months offoreplay.

Barely touching until I wasdivorced.

And now that I’ve had my first touch. My first taste. I’m glad wewaited.

The anticipation only made this night that muchgreater.

Not to mention, the number of times I went home and had to take care of myself just from being in her presence. With any luck, my stamina will help us go on forhours.

My fingers make their way to her center, and I groan at the slickness I find. My earlier moments of hesitation are completely gone, and now I’m in the mood to take. I plunge two fingers into her and watch in fascination as her green eyes flash and her back arches, the back of her head digging into the pillow beneath her. I make quick movements, not letting up on my rhythm or strength. I can feel her pulse against the ends of my fingers, and I know she’s getting close again. I add my thumb of my other hand, pressing against the most sensitive part of her. She frantically grips the sheets above her as she twists and turns, alternating between gasping for air and screaming out curses that would make a sailor blush and calling myname.

When her body quakes and her hand comes to rest on my wrist, I let up, slowly pulling my fingersout.

I bring them up to my lips, sucking them into my mouth. Her eyes never leave my lips. There’s something incredibly sexy about a woman who’s completely comfortable with herself. She’s not lying in front of me trying to position herself to look like a model. She’s not hiding the fact that at one time she had someone put silicone into her body to make her feel a little better about the way shelooked.

“So, I take it you don’t care that I have fakebreasts?”

---