Page 53 of Reclaiming Izabel

“Spread.” I shoved her thighs apart and dove in, tongue lapping greedily, the taste of her cunt turning my cock rock hard. Izabel squirmed as I tongue-fucked her. I brought her to the brink, withdrew, and then took her to new heights.

“Drake.”

I recognized that keening moan, relished that I still knew my wife’s pleasure points, how to drive her mad with need and bring her to orgasm.

I sucked on her clit.

“Drake!” And there it was. The explosion I was dying to taste. Her wet heat coated my mouth and I swiped every drop. Crawling up her body, I began pressing the crown of my cock inside her.

She was going to be tight and I didn’t want to hurt her.

“Let me know if it’s too much, baby,” I whispered to her in the dark, seeing the gleam in her eyes, but not her clear features. The bathroom fixture was our only source of light.

I continued to inch in. “Okay?” I gritted. Jesus, her pussy was tight.

She nodded vigorously, but her eyes squeezed shut.

Shit. Was that pain? Pleasure? I started to withdraw.

“No!” Her ankles hooked behind my ass, locking me in place.

I slid home, anchoring myself to the hilt.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” I groaned. I struggled not to rut into her like a deranged beast and, instead, stayed planted. I needed to see her. Staying connected, I shifted us until I could see Izabel’s face in the dim light. Her blissful smile made my heart soar. I was getting my wife back. I pressed gentle kisses all over her face before capturing her lips in a deep, searing one.

“I love you, Izabel.” I stared into her eyes. “You’re in my heart every moment.”

She bracketed me with her arms and legs, drawing me closer. “Love me, Drake,” she whispered against my mouth. “Love me like you’ll never let me go.”

“Never again,” I promised. I thrust. Slowly at first, and then I pumped faster and faster. Izabel’s nails dug into my shoulders as an expression between anguish and ecstasy crossed her face.

And when she gasped, “harder,” feral intensity took over, and I fucked her like a caveman. I pounded, hard, wild, and fast. Her nails scored my skin, and I relished the sting as we culminated in blinding pleasure. I spilled into her. Shoving my face into the curve of her neck, I shuddered with the ripples of my climax.

I was crushing her, and yet she held on tight.

I lifted my head. I stared into her eyes.

Our gazes locked, and, in that moment, the angst of our years apart melted away.

It wasmidnight when I let Izabel up for air. I couldn’t stop touching her, afraid it was a dream and she would disappear.She tensed when I kissed down her belly and lingered on the scar across her bikini line.

“I had a C-section,” she whispered.

“I know, baby.” I grazed my mouth on the mark one last time before crawling up her body. Bracing on my elbows on either side of her head, I pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m not self-conscious about it.” She managed a watery smile. “Especially since…” Her words faded and, instead, she let her fingers communicate what she wanted to say. Izabel stroked the healed ridges of tissue on my back—her soft touch, a balm to my invisible wounds.

“Our scars tell our story,” I said softly. “The bad, the good. Our heartbreaks and our triumphs. It’s up to us to decide our ending.” I brushed her hair away from her face. “Don’t know about you, baby, but I’m hoping for a pretty damn good one.”

Her eyes glistened. “Me too.”

She shifted beneath me and winced. “I’m sore.”

I hid a grin of satisfaction. “Want me to run you a bath?”

“I’d love it.”

I gotinto the bathtub behind Izabel. We sat huddled together to enjoy the soothing warmth of the water. My wife was quiet, and I thought she’d dozed off. I’d never been this elated in the past three years. There was truth in thatyou never know what you’ve lost until it’s gone. No way was I doing this to our marriage again. I was not re-enlisting with the SEALs, nor was I continuing with the task force after we fulfilled our mission.

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