Page 54 of The Seven Month Itch
The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Did you forget we’re still married, princess?” He flashes a grin big enough to make a woman in the Sahara Desert wet.
“But what about protection?” I don’t want to catch anything.
He levels me with a look like I questioned his integrity. “I’ve only had sex with one person in the last fifteen years. I’m staring at her.”
“No seven month itch?”
His gaze is full of so much love, it leaves me breathless.
“The only itch I have is to get my wife back. I want you and only you.”
I lean in for a kiss. “Forget I said anything. I’m not thinking straight.”
His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Baby, when we’re done, you won’t walk straight.” He gives a sexy wink and kicks the door closed.
Moonlight illuminates the room through open curtains. Terrence moves us to a large four-poster bed, and my heart races against my chest when he lays me down like I’m made of glass.
He appraises me and removes his torn shirt. Light from the winter night dances off his toned abs as he unbuckles his belt and eases out of his pants and boxer briefs in a single motion. The muscles in his thick thighs flex. My eyes glide down his body and lock on the steel rod between his legs.
Sweet Jesus.
He grins back at me and strokes himself. His thumbs glide my dress up my thighs when he reaches the bed. I shiver under the touch of his hands, inching closer to my center. He presses a thumb over my thong and slides it back and forth over my clit. My back arches, and I yelp when he pulls me to the edge of the bed.
Holding my gaze, he sinks between my legs to tug the flimsy lace material off. Once I’m spread open, he puts my legs on his shoulders and presses soft kisses inside of my thighs in a trail to his destination.
“It’s been too long since I’ve tasted you.” The raspiness of his voice mirrors the longing in his eyes. His tongue brushes up my lips and laps my dripping desire. One lick. Two licks. My breath catches at his deep inhale. He swallows hard and moans before latching onto my clit like it’s his last supper.
What this man does with his mouth.
My body jolts at the fire Terrence stokes between my thighs. Ragged breaths morph into a chant at the orgasm that’s desperate to erupt. I gasp and wiggle under his grip, but he stays the course.
Vibrations from his chuckles pulse through my core. Coarse hairs scrape against my slit, over and over until I see stars from our own galaxy. He’s never shaving that goatee. “Hang on for me, princess.”
I cry out when he plunges two thick fingers inside and moves his tongue back on my clit. His mouth is velvet on my skin. My legs convulse at the rhythm of his tongue that demands my orgasm. “Terrence!”
There’s no time to recover. Absolutely zero.
“Arms up.”
Bunched fabric skates up my body, grazing my nipples along the way. He keeps my dress over my eyes like a blindfold, the kinky bastard. The warmth of his breath on my breasts turns my nipples into diamonds. I squirm when he takes one between his teeth and switches to the other. I don’t have the biggest chest, but that doesn’t stop him from cupping them and sucking on the sensitive peaks until my body tingles from head to toe.
All concentration flies out the window when his fingers find their way back into my sex. Heat dampens my skin, and my toes curl at the start of another orgasm from his fingers pumping into me. “Ready to come again.” It’s a statement, not a question, and God help me.
They’ll putDeath by Orgasmson my tombstone, and that’s fine by me. If I die tonight, what a way to go.
His mouth covers mine to muffle another scream, a mix between the sounds of Mariah Carey and a Jack Russell terrier. I taste myself on his lips. He pulls the dress from my eyes and drops to his forearms to kiss me with a softness that makes my heart melt.
“I missed you.” His words linger against my lips.
This man paralyzed me with a tongue and two fingers. But those three words—and the way he looks at me after his whispered confession—are too much. His gaze answers every question I had.
I reach to caress his cheek, unable to blink back tears. “I missed you too, baby.”
His eyes close. With a sharp inhale and a slow nod, he turns his head to kiss the inside of my hand. Terrence says he’s not good with words, but he loves with his whole heart. We kiss each other with adoration. There’s no urgency or desperation.
We’re home.
The head of his shaft grazes my entrance. Hungry eyes peer through mine. “Are you sure?”
