Page 91 of The Rejected Wife

"Uh—I was, uh, thinking that—" I shake my head.

“Is that a flush?” He stands and moves toward the bed, settling beside me. His gaze lingers, slow and deliberate. “Itwasa flush.” There’s a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

His words make me blush deeper. "It’s nothing."

"Were you thinking of what we did earlier?" he rumbles.

I nod. "What were you doing sitting in the dark."

"I was watching you sleep."

I tilt my head. "Creepy much?"

"Nothing creepy about watching my wife sleep after I've fucked her properly. Nothing creepy about me marveling that I have you back in my life."

His look is so intense, so needy, my throat closes. I can sense that invisible connection that binds us together and stretches between us as it tightens and grows stronger. He has feelings for me. He has; from the moment he met me. And in time, he will come to express them. I remind myself to be patient. I need to give him time to recognize his feelings.

I know this with a certainty that comes from a place deep within. One I don’t question.

He cups my cheek and leans in for a long kiss that has me turning into a puddle. When he pulls away and places his forehead against mine, we’re both breathing heavily.

"See what you do to me?" He takes my hand and places it over the crotch of his sweatpants.

The throbbing column underneath it makes my mouth water. I crawl into his lap and fit my already weeping core over his swollen shaft. Through the thin layer of fabric separating us, I can feel the heat, the length of him. I wrap my arms around his neck and fit my lips to his. Instantly, he takes control. With his hands on my hips, he fits me even more snugly over that tent in his pants.

44

Tyler

She feels so good in my arms. So perfect. The taste of her lips. The softness of her curves. The scent of her filling my senses and provoking the caveman inside of me—all of it fuses with my heart, thumping a cadence ofmine, mine, mine.

I squeeze the flare of her butt; she gasps into my mouth. Then, reaching down between us, she pushes down the waistband of my sweatshirts. I rise up enough that she’s able to tug the sweats down. My cock springs up. Ready. Thick. Long. The crown bulbous and swollen with need. Precum clings to it. I lift her, positioning her right over my aching shaft. She sinks down, taking me fully inside her. I groan. So does she. Both of us look down at where we’re joined, at where we’re wedded to each other in flesh.

"That’s so hot," I say through gritted teeth.

With my palms on the flare of her hips, I urge her to move, to grind down on me, to move those lush hips in a circular motion that threatens to drive me to the edge faster than I want. She throws her head back, showing off the column of her creamy throat. I run my nose up to the jut of her chin and nip on it. She moans. I press tiny kisses down to one plump breast, marking the circle of her areola with tiny bites, before I suck on her nipple.

She digs her fingers into my hair, pressing me closer. I lick my way to her other breast, laving her nipple. And when I close my teeth around it, her pussy contracts around my cock. I squeeze her butt cheeks, massaging them, urging her to tilt her hips and take me in even deeper. She pants and shudders, the pulse at the base of her neck beating in tandem with the boom of my heartbeat.

How could I have allowed her to walk out of my life? How could I have not seen that she is as much a part of me as I am of her? I lick my way up to the curve of her shoulder and bite her in the same place I did earlier. I need to mark her again. I need to imprint myself in her, on her, inside of her. I need to draw her scent into my body, ingrain the slither of her curves against my skin. I need her—so fucking much.

I close my mouth over hers and thrust up and into her. I absorb her groan, her tiny noises of pleasure as she takes all of me inside her. I piston up and into her, over and over again, until she shudders, and digs her fingers into my shoulders, and her spine curves. Her body jolts, and her pussy chokes my cock. I feel her shatter around me, but don’t stop fucking her. I continue to lunge up and into her, until my balls draw up, and I follow her over the edge. When I soften the kiss, she whimpers and slides down to rest her head on my shoulder. I rub circles over her back, rubbing the sweat into her skin. Our skin sticks with the evidence of our exertions. Her belly flutters against mine.

"You’re so beautiful, Wife."

"Hmm." She kisses my shoulder. I sense her lips curve. "You’re beautiful too. Inside and out."

"Thank you." I kiss the top of her head, then rise to my feet with her in my arms. I carry her into the bathroom, then into the adjoining outdoor shower suite where I put her down.

We’re surrounded by tropical plants that afford us privacy. It’s like being enclosed in your own private forest. I enjoy the luxuries of life; have never apologized for that. And my stint in the Royal Marines made me appreciate them even more.

When Serene came into my life, I was grateful I could use the resources at my disposal to track down her past. So, I have answers for her when she asks. So, I can give her the best care and therapy and ensure she grows up into a happy adult. I’m even more grateful I can share these luxuries with my wife.

A butterfly flutters over a flower nearby. A bird, which I can’t identify but whose plumage proclaims it to be an exotic species, darts from one branch of a tree to the other. With the sunlight fading, hidden lights are turned on, illuminating the scene in an ethereal glow.

"It’s so beautiful," she breathes.

"It is," I murmur.

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