Page 211 of Frost and Death
He steps closer as I scan every inch of him, desperate to remember this. I drift over his scar, the small bead of sweat running down the side of his ribs, stopping last on the hard length pleading for freedom underneath his pants.
I want to peel the remainder of his clothes away and touch him everywhere. But when I reach for him, he catches my greedy hands, leaning down and kissing me softly.
“May I?” he asks.
“May you what?” I whisper in a tease.
Jerrick grins so big it leaves my soul aching.
My startled laugh replaces the ache as he scoops me up to move me farther onto the bed.
He crawls over me, hovering slightly before joining our lips together and resting all his weight on me. His weight should be heavy, but instead, it is a blanket of protection. Safety and love wrapping itself around me.
All I want to do is cocoon myself in it even more. I revel in the security of him being here with me. I am lost in the desire, the comfort, and the need for everything that he is.
Jerrick’s hands drift up the sides of my gown as he kisses me, and I can’t help myself as I touch his biceps and give them a light squeeze. His tongue mingles with mine as he unlaces my dress. We break our kiss as he pays attention to the fastening.
“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmurs as my gown loosens, giving Jerrick access to me.
He cups my breasts, massaging them, and kissing them.
I bite back a moan and cradle him close, loving the touch of his lips on my body. But when he pinches my nipple, I hiss and grind out a groan at the touch.
Jerrick chuckles darkly, meeting my gaze. “I love every sound you make.”
When his tongue flicks my nipple, it pebbles even more.
Kisses trail up the side of my face as the fullness of his weight sinks on me. His lips drift across my skin, warmth expanding around me while a chill seeps into my blood. And when his kisses meet the tender place in the crook of my neck,fuck, I cannot stop my hips from grinding in response.
“That’s my favorite,” he whispers along my lips as I run my hands up his body, pulling him closer to kiss me deeper.
Jerrick’s hips grind in rhythm with mine, and we moan at the contact of our bodies. My husband explores my body, irritation pouring into his kisses as he struggles to find my skin underneath my gown.
“Get this fucking dress offnow,” he growls, sitting on his knees as we frantically remove pieces of my gown.
I shimmy my arms out, my body rocking as Jerrick leans on his side, yanking the entirety of it off with a firm tug. I almost go with it, but Jerrick catches me, tugging me back to him.
He holds my neck and my hip, my backside against him.
I tilt up to kiss him, and I sway my ass around his cock. I try to reach between us, eager to touch him, but stop when his tongue flicks my ear.
“Not yet,” he says, cupping my center.
I gasp as he nibbles my earlobe.
Jerrick snakes his other hand down my breast, and I moan as he trails further and finds my arousal. I bring my hand behind his head as we remain close, his fingers teasingly rubbing my clit.
“Fuck, your touch is better than mine.” I gasp and rub my ass against his cock.
He kisses the nape of my neck. “Have you thought about my touch?”
I moan my response, knowing the countless times I’ve thought back to when he touched me on our wedding night, not wanting to think of him, but I still did.
The dark, impulsive thoughts festered every time he was close to me. I pleasured myself with the memory of him coaxing me and praising me, always wishing for more—wishing forhim.
I buck when he pinches my clit.
“Answer me.”
