Spiral Of Bliss: Adore Part 17

I am so getting back on the s.e.xy bandwagon. I watch Dean strip down to his boxers. The muscles of his back shift and flex underneath his taut skin. When he turns away to grab a pair of jeans from the dresser, I slither out of my robe and drop it to the floor. By the time I scramble to kneel in the middle of the bed, I'm all tingly with antic.i.p.ation.

Dean turns, his eyes widening at the sight of me.

"Hi," I say breathlessly.

"Well, h.e.l.lo." He skims his gaze over me, his expression sparking with heat. "Is that new?"

"Just bought it today." I stroke my hand over the bed suggestively, my fingers brushing against the book.

"You're incredible," he murmurs.

"I thought we could finally have some uninterrupted fun." I pick up the romance novel and show him the cover of a buxom la.s.s with long, red hair about to be ravished by a hunk whose billowy, open shirt exposes his ridiculously impressive abs. "My book gave me an idea."

"Yeah?" Intrigue and growing l.u.s.t spark in his expression as he approaches the bed, erotic tension already lacing his muscles. "What kind of idea?"

"A fantasy about you ravishing me."

"Now that," Dean says, sliding one hand to the back of my neck and dropping his other hand to the waistband of his boxers, "is a fantasy I can get behind. And on top of. As long as we get right down to the ravishing."

"Well, of course, but you know, sharing fantasies is really supposed to... oh!"

Dean shoves his boxers down, his half-hard c.o.c.k appearing right in front of me. His grip tightens on my nape as he pulls me forward so I'm sitting on the edge of the bed. Without thinking, I part my lips obediently, a bolt of arousal shooting through me as he nudges his c.o.c.k into my mouth.

I put my hands on his hips, my blood heating as I feel his erection grow harder inside my mouth. I squirm, pressing my thighs together, a throb of urgency already starting.

He slides his hand over my body and underneath my chemise, his palms sending tingles of electricity racing over my skin. A noise of appreciation rumbles from his chest. He pushes his c.o.c.k deeper into my mouth and fondles my b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Shivers waterfall through me. I grasp the base of his shaft and slacken my throat muscles, letting him pump in and out. The salty taste of him floods my tongue, and before long his breath starts to intensify.

"Ah, f.u.c.k, Liv."

The low murmur uncoils heat inside me. I move away from him to unfasten the bow holding the chemise together. The chiffon opens, exposing my b.r.e.a.s.t.s topped with stiff nipples and the curves of my belly and hips. Dean's eyes darken as he gazes at my almost naked body, his eyes roaming hungrily over me.

"You are so d.a.m.n s.e.xy," he murmurs, putting one knee on the bed and pushing me backward.

His lips come down on mine with surprising gentleness-especially considering that I can feel his pent-up l.u.s.t ready to snap open. He strokes his tongue into my mouth, smooth and deep, his hands coming up to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I twitch underneath him, and when he starts playing with my nipples, electric sparks shoot through me.

I maneuver us both around and fall back against the pillows, gripping his arms to keep him close, our mouths sealed in a hot, wet kiss. With a gasp of pleasure, I wrap my legs around his thighs, my heart kicking into overdrive as his c.o.c.k rubs against the stretched satin of my panties.

He slides a hand down my abdomen, his fingers twisting in the thin elastic string at my hips before moving around to my rear.

"Hmm." His deep growl vibrates through me. "Not much here."

"It's a little small," I admit, sliding my lips over his jaw to where his pulse is pounding at the hollow of his throat.

"Lemme see." His voice is a gruff order as he pushes away from me, his eyes darkened to black with desire.

He sits back, making a circling gesture with his forefinger. I lick my lips, my heart hammering as I turn to show him the skimpy lace-and-satin back that barely covers my bottom.

"d.a.m.n." The curse escapes Dean on a hiss as he covers my a.s.s with both his hands, rubbing and squeezing. He moves his hand between my legs, probing at my damp cleft.

I gasp, arching my back. "Dean!"

"Jesus, you're soaked down here." He pushes a finger into my opening and strokes it back and forth.

I swear to G.o.d I'm already close to coming, and we've barely gotten started. A fog of l.u.s.t and urgency descends over me. With a moan, I push my rear backward, seeking deeper penetration, my nerves tingling with pleasure.

I twist to look at Dean over my shoulder. He's gazing at my lace-covered a.s.s, one hand slowly stroking his big c.o.c.k. The sight of him sends a firebolt straight into my blood. My c.l.i.t throbs.

"Dean," I moan, lowering my head onto the pillow and wiggling my a.s.s.

He pulls the panties over my hips and a.s.s, his c.o.c.k nudging against my bare thigh. I experience an instant of self-consciousness-after all it's not like we've been doing much of this lately-but then Dean slides his shaft right between my cheeks, and shock obliterates my embarra.s.sment.

"Oh my G.o.d, Dean."

He gives a m.u.f.fled laugh and rubs his c.o.c.k up and down the cleft of my bottom, slipping lower to my s.e.x before sliding back up again. Flames crackle through me, and I can't prevent a cry of need from escaping my throat. I grip the headboard with both hands as hot sensations sweep up the length of my spine.

"You're so f.u.c.king perfect," Dean mutters, pushing his finger slowly back and forth inside me. "Spread your legs wider for me, beauty."

I fumble for another pillow to put beneath me and ease my legs apart. Dean's finger slides out of me, the movement causing another wave of ripples to course through me. I'm quivering with antic.i.p.ation and need, perspiration damping my skin, my tight, aching nipples rubbing against the pillow.

I shift, feeling his muscular legs pressing between mine, his broad hand coming down to rest on my lower back. The panties are still tangled around my thighs, the constriction an erotic contrast to the pressure of Dean's c.o.c.k nudging at my slit.

"Do it, please," I gasp. "Oh, Dean, f.u.c.k me."

With a grunt, he pushes forward, gripping my hips. I sink onto his shaft, crying out with pleasure when he fills me, his rigid flesh throbbing against my inner walls. I tighten my hands on the headboard and brace myself, my thighs tensing as he starts f.u.c.king me with slow, deep strokes that make my whole body quake with l.u.s.t.

"Move your pretty a.s.s," he orders hoa.r.s.ely, slipping one hand under me to rub my aching c.l.i.t. "Come on, f.u.c.k yourself on me... that's it..."

I groan, releasing the headboard and resting my cheek against the pillow as I start to thrust myself back onto his shaft. I squeeze my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, playing with my nipples, fiery currents shooting like stars through my blood.

Oh G.o.d, I could kneel here for hours, letting my husband stroke his c.o.c.k in and out of me, my body jerking and swaying under him, his flat stomach hitting my a.s.s with a sound like a spank. His fingers tighten on my hips, his breath rasping through the air as our bodies slam together again and again...

"Dean, I'm going to come." I bite down hard on my lower lip as the spool of l.u.s.t winds tighter and tighter, pulling me closer to the explosion of bliss I haven't felt in longer than I care to remember.

But I want to come while looking at my husband, and he wants to watch, because he pulls out of me and eases me around to my back. His expression is rigid with l.u.s.t and restraint, his eyes smoldering as he rakes his gaze over my sweaty, naked body.

He rubs his hands in circles over my midriff and hips, bending to press warm kisses over my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, down my abdomen to circle his tongue around my bellyb.u.t.ton. He slides his hands between my thighs to spread them apart again.

He enters me with one deep plunge, bracing his hands on either side of my head. His thick c.o.c.k strokes every inner recess of my p.u.s.s.y. A stream of moans spill from my parted lips, my breath scorching my lungs, my whole being straining toward release.

My gaze locks with my husband's in a fiery heat of urgency and need that belongs to us alone and that we haven't shared in so long... too long...

"Oh, Dean, it's going to happen," I whisper thickly, sliding my hands around to grip his muscular back. "I can feel it... oh, yes..."

Born to be Wi-ild...

The song breaks through my fierce, spinning storm of heat and desire.

Born to be...

My cell phone buzzes on the nightstand. Archer's ringtone. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to ignore it.

Dean's breath is hot on my neck, his chest is rubbing against my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his thick c.o.c.k throbbing inside me... Oh, it's incredible, powerful and hot, I'm going to come so hard and feel him shoot deep inside me...

The phone keeps ringing, the stupid song a mind-numbing screech of nails on a chalkboard. I don't need to answer it. I trust Archer implicitly-Nicholas is safe, nothing is wrong...

No! Stop thinking about Archer and Nicholas.

I reach up to grab the headboard, focusing on Dean's burning gaze, the sweat trickling over his temple, the rigid set of his jaw as he f.u.c.ks me harder and faster...

Head out on the highway...

"s.h.i.t." I shove him away and grab for the phone.

Dean groans and rolls off me, the sudden loss of his weight leaving me feeling bereft and raw with guilt. I fumble to accept the call, shoving my damp hair away from my face.

"h.e.l.lo?" I gasp.

"Hey, Liv."

"What?" I try to control my breathing, my racing pulse. "Is everything... everything all right?"

"Yeah, fine. You sound weird."

"I'm..." I press a hand to my throat and close my eyes. My heart hammers. "I'm fine."

"What does he want?" Dean growls, his chest heaving.

"Oh, s.h.i.t," Archer mutters. "Uh, sorry, Liv."

"Never mind." I close my eyes, not sure if I want to laugh or cry. "Why did you call?"

"Well, I ran into a friend at the park and told him about the chair thing-hope you don't mind-and he said he knows a guy who owns a used furniture store, if you want a contact for more chairs."

A bubble of pained laughter rises in my chest. "Sure. That would be great. Thanks."

"Also, Nicholas just had spaghetti for dinner and asked for a chocolate ice cream, but I wanted to make sure it was okay with you first."

"Yes, that's fine."

"Okay, thanks. Sorry to have bothered you. Really."

"Not as sorry as I am," I mutter.

I throw the phone on the nightstand and turn back to Dean, but the air between us has cooled and cracked again, the sharp edge of reality blunting my urgency. I know there's no way we can get back to where we were now that chairs and chocolate ice cream have invaded my mind.

I flop onto the pillow, my body still aching with the ebbing tide of unfulfilled l.u.s.t. Dean shoves up from the bed, his skin slick with sweat and his erection still half-hard, and goes into the bathroom.

Now it's no longer an uncertainty. I definitely want to cry.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

DEAN.

Something has to change. And in ways that have nothing to do with another job, no matter how impressive. Yeah, I can secure funding for a medieval site. I'm prominent enough to be a frontrunner for an international, diplomatic position. I can write reports, collaborate with scientists, navigate bureaucracy and politics.

I can get s.h.i.t done. So why the h.e.l.l haven't I figured out how to revive my relationship with my wife?

I unlock the front door, my muscles still burning and chest heaving from a morning run. The exercise did nothing to ease the frustration that, thanks to last night, now feels like a volcano on the verge of erupting.

I call out a h.e.l.lo to Liv and Nicholas as I pa.s.s the kitchen, then head straight for the bathroom. After stripping out of my clothes, I turn on the shower and step under the spray. I lower my head into the hot water and shut my eyes.

I get that Liv is trying. I love her wildly for it. Just thinking about her in that silky little gown, her gorgeous b.r.e.a.s.t.s pushed into pillowy cleavage, her hips and thighs all soft and round... f.u.c.k.

My d.i.c.k hardens. And though I'm sick of jerking off, I grab my shaft and stroke. Pressure builds in my groin. As usual, the images flash through my brain with no effort whatsoever-Liv spread out in front of me, her p.u.s.s.y open and glistening, her breath coming in short, little gasps.

"Oh, G.o.d, Dean... hurry, please..."

She's all ripe l.u.s.t and heat, her tight nipples begging to be sucked, her pale thighs tense with strain. My blood surges. I tighten my grip on my d.i.c.k and stroke faster, picturing myself sinking into my wife, her legs winding around my hips, her breath puffing against my neck. I can feel her closing around me, like wet, tight silk, gripping my c.o.c.k, pulling me into her...

"Would you like a piece of pie, sir?"

The image shifts, and then she's wearing a little pink waitress outfit with the b.u.t.tons unfastened low enough to reveal the curves of her t.i.ts. She turns and hikes the skirt up over her hips, showing me her perfect a.s.s as she bends over the counter and spreads her legs. She gives me a hot look over her shoulder, her eyes glazed with l.u.s.t, her long hair spilling over her back.

Without a word, I grab a fistful of her hair and position myself at her slit, driving into her so hard and fast she lets out a shriek of surprised pleasure. Urgency fills the air. Her a.s.s smacks against my stomach, the wet, slapping sound of f.u.c.king filling my ears as I plunge into her again and again... so hot, so f.u.c.king good...

"Ah!" A groan rumbles from my chest as I come, shooting all over my hand.

The shower spray beats onto my lowered head and neck as I catch my breath, l.u.s.t still throbbing in my veins because of course my G.o.dd.a.m.ned hand is no subst.i.tute for my wife.

I grab the soap and spread lather over my chest. I'll try again to get Liv to come away with me, though it probably still won't work out with her schedule. At least, her schedule has always been her excuse for declining. I suspect it's also because she's worried about being away from Nicholas, but she won't admit it.

Maybe I need to get on board with her fantasy thing, if it'll help her focus. But no way am I going to tell her about pie and a pink waitress outfit.

Even though she'd be insanely cute in one.

Hmm...

I shut off the water and grab a towel.