Page 161 of That Moment
Life with the Slades is chaos, there’s no other way to put it. It’s loud and sometimes messy, but it’s home now, and I’ve come to crave it during the silence. I never thought I’d find peace outside of the silent, isolated walls of my old ranch and the hollow chambers of my heart, but I did. It’s the kind of peace that makes me feel like I’m not standing on the outside anymore.
Dinner at the long farmhouse table is as wild as I expected. I sit with Adrienne tucked against my side, her hand brushing mine under the table every so often. Silas is dozing in a bassinet beside Deven, cheeks pink, his tiny fist gripping the edge of his blanket. Hudson clears his throat, rising with his glass of red. The chatter dips, the table slowly quieting.
“To family,” he says simply, his voice gruff. “To the mess of us, to the years behind and the years ahead. I’ve been lucky in a lot of ways, but nothing more than sitting here tonight, looking at all of you. And to Adrienne, my girl. You built a life you’re proud of, and I see it in your eyes every damn day. And Scotty…”He glances at me, his mouth tugging into a rare smile. “You’ve proven you’re one of us. Hell, maybe the best of us.”
The table breaks into a cheer, glasses lifted, voices overlapping as we clink our glasses together. We sit at the table for hours, dinner slowly turning into dessert and coffee. The kids have all fallen asleep by this point, and the grandparents are not far behind them.
One by one, we say our goodnights and head home. Silas never wakes, so I slip him into his crib and kiss him goodnight.
Adrienne pads into the kitchen barefoot, wearing one of my shirts, pouring two glasses of wine like she’s been waiting all night for this moment. The way she looks at me over her shoulder makes my blood burn hot all over again… Because I know what comes next.
Adrienne leans against the counter, one hip cocked, wineglass in her hand. My shirt hangs loose on her frame, barely covering her thighs. Her hair’s wild from the night air, her smile sly like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“Five years in,” she says, sipping slowly, “and you still look at me like you’re about to bend me over the nearest surface.”
I step in close, pluck the glass from her hand, and set it aside. “That’s because I am.”
Her laugh is low, teasing. “Really? You’re that easy?”
“Easy?” I cage her in with my arms, pressing my cock against her hip so she feels exactly how hard I am. “Baby, you walk in wearing my shirt and nothing else, I’m two seconds from fucking you senseless. That’s not easy, that’s desperate.”
Her breath hitches, her grin softening into something hungrier. “Desperate, huh?”
“Yeah,” I rasp, brushing my lips against her jaw. “Five years, a wedding, a baby, and I still want you like I’m gonna die without your pussy wrapped around me.”
Her eyes darken, heat flashing in them, and she whispers, “Show me.”
“Gladly,” I reply, tugging the shirt up, exposing the curve of her ass.
She gasps when my hand comes down hard, a sharp smack followed by my palm kneading the sting. “Own me, baby.”
“That’s right.” My mouth crashes to hers, hard and messy, both of us panting as I slide my hand between her thighs, finding her soaked already.
“See? You’re just as desperate,” I growl against her lips. “Five years and you’re still this wet for me, practically dripping at the thought of my cock.”
“Always,” she moans, rocking against my hand. “Always, Scotty.”
I slide two fingers inside her, pumping slow, curling just right until she’s trembling. She clings to my shoulders, head falling back, whimpering my name like a prayer.
“Come on, baby. Come for me right here on the counter,” I whisper, thumb circling her clit. “Show me how bad you still need me.”
Her body arches, breaks, her cries filling the kitchen as she comes hard around my fingers. I don’t let her breathe, not yet. I hook her thighs and lift her onto the counter, her shirt riding up, leaving her bare and perfect.
I stroke my cock, thick and leaking, lining myself up. “You ready to be fucked, sweetheart?”
Her eyes lock on mine, wild and glassy. “Yes. Fuck me, Scotty.”
I drive into her with a guttural groan, the counter jolting beneath us. “Christ. Five years and you’re still the tightest, sweetest thing I’ve ever had. This is my pussy. My wife.”
Her nails dig into my shoulders, her body straining to meet every brutal thrust. “Harder. Please—God—harder.”
I slam into her, the sound of skin against skin filling the kitchen. My voice is a low growl in her ear. “You love me fucking you, don’t you, baby girl?”
“Yes,” she gasps, nails clawing down my back. “God, yes?—”
I drive harder, forcing her body up the counter with every thrust. “Say it louder. Tell me how much you love this cock splitting you open.”
Her head tips back, a cry spilling from her lips. “I love it. I love your cock, Scotty—fuck?—”
