Page 28 of Merlot Marriage

“I can’t say your name while we do this.” And then she bursts out laughing.

I grip the nape of her neck and flip us over so she’s on her back beneath me. “You can’t say my name? But you don’t want to stop?” I can’t help giving a little roll with my hips against hers.

She giggles, stopping herself by biting both lips. “It’s just…” Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper. “Not sexy.”

I drop my head to her shoulder with a huff. “You can call me anything you want as long as you’re okay and not about to run crying from the room.”

“Okay, but I can’t call you Phil. That’s even worse.”

The bed jostles as I roll off her to lie on my back, staring at the ceiling. Ophie rolls onto her side, pressing against me, her fingertips tracing patterns on my chest.

“I hate being called Phil.” My words are aimed at the ceiling, but as I finish, I move my head to look at her in time to catch her making a face. We lie like that for a long moment, the silence building until I turn to face her. She starts stroking up and down my side. It tickles, but I force myself to hold still.

“What does your family call you?” she asks absently, her face still scrunched in thought.

I laugh. “A) I don’t want to talk about my family while we’re both naked. And B) if you don’t think you can scream 'Philip' while I make you come, you’re going to be even more disappointed. Their nickname is worse.”

“But what is it?”

“You really need to know right now? While my dick is inches away from your pussy, you need to know my childhood nickname?”

Ophie’s eyes widen at my choice of words, but then she bites her bottom lip again. She continues touching me in silence, her fingers brushing dangerously close to my cock before she meets my eyes again. “I do.”

I close my eyes and sigh. God, I hope she still wants to have sex after she hears this. “Flippy.”

“Flippy?” Her shoulders vibrate with suppressed giggles.

“I told you it was bad.” The giggles erupt in a peal of laughter, which somehow does nothing to dampen my hard-on. “Can’t you just call me babe? Or handsome.”

Ophie scrunches her nose. Her hands had stopped while she was laughing, but now they go back to stroking along my torso. “Well, now you’ve put too much pressure on me, I can’t think of anything.”

“Then how about I keep your mouth too busy for it to matter?”

Ophie

All the discussion ofPhilip’s nickname has me more and more self-conscious of the fact that I’m naked. With Philip. And my nipples are still wet from his mouth.

I’m a heartbeat away from running from the room, when he declares he’s going to keep my mouth too busy to talk. Between the dirty words and his possessive grip on my hip, I freeze.

“Come here, liefling.”

With those three words, he pulls me on top of him, the hand that was on my hip sliding to scoop me up and over so I’m straddling his hips, his other hand gripping the back of my neck, bending me over until his lips capture mine.

My awkwardness dissolves as our tongues collide once more. The questions and uncertainties of what happens now disappear, leaving behind the perfect way his lips move against mine. The feel of Philip’s hands caressing my back and my titsdragging along his chest. The hard length of his cock pressing through the thin fabric of his basketball shorts.

“Ophie…Ophelia,” he murmurs against my mouth between kisses. “Are you sure?”

Instead of answering, I rock my hips, sliding my clit against his length with a groan. I close my eyes and lose myself in the sensation. It’s been over two years since anyone has touched me, apart from myself. The pleasure of it is almost overwhelming. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I should say something, reassure Philip that I’m not just using him.

But the words are stuck behind the wave of sensation that’s building up inside me, and all I can do is gasp out breaths between his hungry kisses and keep the rhythm of my hips as friction sparks between us.

With my eyes still closed, I don’t have to see what he’s thinking—I know his face so well, he won’t be able to hide anything from me, and I don’t want to know.

“Ophie.” Philip spears his fingers into my hair, pulling at the scrunchie holding it up, and pinpricks of pain dance over my scalp. They don’t make me stop. Instead, the pain sends goose bumps down my spine, and I move a little faster, pressing down a little harder against the outline of his dick.

“Open your eyes, Ophie,” he whispers as he breaks away from my lips, kissing down my jaw and throat.

I screw my eyes shut, not wanting to look and break the bubble of denial where we can do this and still walk away as if everything is the same. His hands guide my head to the side, giving him access to bite down on my shoulder, sending another wave of goose bumps across my skin.

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