Placing my keys down on the bench top, I immediately snatched them back up and walked to the key hook where I hung them. I was getting better at remembering to do it, but just like accidental anal sex, it did slip sometimes.
“You here, love?” I called out, as I made my way back to the kitchen.
Silence. I knew she was home because her car was in the garage.
Maybe she’s asleep?
Leaning against the bench, I glanced down at the red roses in my hand and scrunched my nose at its familiarity. They were the same bunch of flowers I always bought her, and to be honest, they were boring. But she always smiled and said she loved them whenever I gave them to her, so I didn’t want to screw up and get her something she didn’t like on top of already being in the shit in the first place. Right. Suit up your balls, Deano, and go apologise.
Pushing off from the bench, I made my way to our bedroom, finding Tash reading a book. My heart stabbed my chest at the sight of her hair, but not because I hated it. I didn’t. She looked … hot, as in sexy librarian hot. Jesus fucking Christ!
I cleared my throat.
Her eyebrows rose as she glanced above the red frame of her reading glasses, except I wasn’t held in her sight for long. In fact, anyone would think I was Medusa the Gorgon and would turn her to stone with just one look by how quickly she snapped her eyes away from me and back to her book.
“Hey,” I said softly.
“Hey.” She didn’t look up again.
“What are you reading?”
She angled the book so that I could read the cover for myself, but I couldn’t make out the writing. What I could see was a woman’s body, half submerged in water. And she was cradling something … something white, possibly a boat.
I nodded. “Is it good?”
“Yep.”
“What’s it about?”
Tash sighed and laid the book on her lap. “What do you want? Because I’d much rather read the book than tell you about it.” Wow! Smack down. This is gonna be a doozy.
Bringing my arm out from behind my back, I presented the flowers to her, together with a hesitant smile. She studied them for a few seconds then raised her book again.
“You know where the vases are.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” I said, placing them on the end of the bed and walking around to sit on the edge of the mattress next to her. “I fucked up. I know that.”
“I’m not interested. I just want to read my book.”
“You hair looks great, love. I was just a little shocked, that’s all.”
I reached out to touch it but she swiped my hand away.
“Don’t.” Her bottom lip began to tremble and the sight of it hurt. I wasn’t used to seeing her cry so often. It just wasn’t normal.
“I mean it. You’re gorgeous with or without hair.”
“I still have fucking hair, Dean,” she snapped, grabbing it and pulling it tight. “All I did was give it a trim, so stop treating me as if I’m fucking bald. And even if I were bald, stiff fucking shit.”
I raised my hands, defensively. “Jesus! Calm down. I never said you were bald.”
“You know what? I don’t care what you said. I don’t care what you think. It’s my hair, my choice. Deal with it.”
“Tash I—”
“Just leave me alone. I don’t want to talk right now.”
I went to get up and do as she said, but then I remembered what Bryce and Derek had told me at Thomas’ birthday about doing the opposite to what your wife wanted during an argument. What if they’re right? I hesitated, looking toward the door then back to Tash, her lip still trembling as she frantically tried to blink back tears. Fuck it!
“No. We’re gonna talk about it, and first you’re gonna hear me out.” I removed the book from her hands and put it on the bedside table. And fuck me stupid, because she let me. “Now, I’m gonna say this again, so listen carefully. Your hair looks great, love. I really like it. I didn’t think I would, but I do. A LOT.”
She sniffed, lifted her glasses, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Whatever, it’s just hair.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. It isn’t ‘just hair’ to me. It’s part of our story and the reason we came to be.”
She furrowed her brow then sniffed again. And I knew it wasn’t the right time to be concerned with my idiosyncrasies, but I hated sniffing. Really hated it. Nearly as much as sipping.
“Here,” I said, reaching for a tissue to pass to her.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes, smiling mildly. “Thanks … I think.”
“Sorry, but you know what I’m like. All I hear is snot, and it’s distracting me from telling you what I want to tell you.”
Tash blew her nose, dramatically, and then raised a sarcastic brow. “There. Better?” Fuck me, she looks hot. Bitchy and hot.
Heat rushed to my head, my face … my fingertips. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, except for a few pieces that kept falling over the frame of her glasses and partially masking her eyes. It was a little messy but cute. It also reminded me of how her hair looked after we had sex.
“I like your hair,” I repeated, running my eyes over it again before dropping my gaze to her neck and then a little further down to where the top buttons of her white short-sleeved shirt opened, teasing me.
“So you said.”
An overwhelming desire to grab her, throw her over my lap, rip her underwear down her legs and slap her arse, hard, came over me. And fucked if I knew where it’d come from, because I’d never had the urge to punish her as much I did now. Jesus! I need to get a hold of myself.
I cleared my throat and leaned toward her, hoping my new position would allow my rock hard cock to find extra space within my pants. Now was not the time for sex; she’d rip me a new one for even thinking it.
“Well … I do like it. I’m not lying.”
She looked away. “Okay. I believe you.”
“Tash, stop trying to dismiss me. I’m not finished.” I traced my finger along the hairline of her forehead, collecting one of the loose pieces covering her eyes. “You need to know that every time I looked at your hair when it was long, every time I touched and smelled it, I was permanently reminded of how we’d met. How I’d stopped you from getting it cut, and of how I became the luckiest man alive, because I got you!”
She gasped then raised her hands defensively. “Sorry. That wasn’t a sniff.”
I chuckled. “I know.”
An unusual silence fell upon us as we stared into each other’s eyes. It felt strange, almost uncomfortable, as if we were in those early stages of discovery once again which, of course, didn’t make sense.
“I’m sorry I cut it without telling you first. I knew you loved it long, I just didn’t realise why. Had I known, I wouldn’t have cut it.”
“It’s your hair, love. You can do what you want with it. I guess I just felt that by cutting it, we were cutting what made us. I felt that it was my job to protect it, like I had back then, and that I’d failed.”
She burst into tears and took my hands in hers. “No. NO! You didn’t fail anything. And we haven’t cut what makes us. That’s in here,” she said, placing my hand over her heart. “And that can’t be cut.” Tash scooted closer and wrapped her other arm around my neck, pulling my mouth to meet hers. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Tears were streaming down her face and falling onto mine as she sobbed against my lips. “I love you today.”
“I love you everyday,” I said back, moving my lips to kiss her eyes.
Tash’s grip on my body tightened, and she sucked in a few deep breaths, instantly stopping her tears. My heart hammered in my chest as she pulled back just a little and pierced me with her eyes, her stare more intent as she slowly moved our hands from their spot just above her heart, down her chest, to cup her breast.
“I want you,” she whispered, squeezing my hand and coaxing my fingers to knead her skin.
My dick hardened, straining against the
confines of my pants. I wanted to fucking help its cause and set it free, but Tash was one step ahead, letting go of my neck and dropping her hand to my waistband.
“Now!” she hissed.
Her desperation fuelled a fireball of emotion that had been building from the moment I stepped into the room, but more so because I hadn’t seen this hungry side of her for a very long time.
Holy shit! Bryce and Derek were right.
Chapter Fifteen
Tash
Every single emotion I’d buried deep within pooled like a magnet and burst out of me in the form of tears, anger, love, and need. All of it was too strong to keep contained, or I was too weak and unable to no longer pretend everything I’d been feeling for the past few weeks was typical and justified.
It wasn’t.
I was a mess.
And right now, I was hot mess.
Sliding my hand under the waistband of Dean’s pants, I pulled them down and let his cock spring free. Whoa!
It kinda startled me at first, the way it bobbed about like it had a mind of its own. And maybe it did; I couldn’t remember. I hadn’t been this up close and personal with it for quite a while. We’d only had sex a handful of times these past few months, but even worse, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d given him head, or him me. To be honest, I wasn’t a massive fan. I didn’t like fishing his pubic hair off my tongue and from out of my teeth. I hated getting cramps in my jaw and choking because there was a massive cock blocking my airway. So yeah, blowjob Mondays wasn’t something I pencilled in my calendar, instead something I subtly avoided with the likes of phantom mouth ulcers, migraines and sore throats.
This time, though, was different. This time, as I watched his hard, shiny cock bob before me like an icecube in a glass of fine scotch, I wanted nothing more than to put it in my mouth — as far as it would go. In fact, I found myself craving it the more I looked at it, the soft silky feeling of his skin sliding over my tongue and the saltiness of his precum. Mmm…
“Lie down,” I demanded, practically pushing him back onto the mattress.
Dean fell, willingly, albeit wide-eyed, which I assumed was because he wasn’t sure as to what I was doing, and if that were the case, I couldn’t blame him. Ever since becoming a mum I’ve held back, sexually. It just wasn’t a priority because it was boring, because I was busy, and because my body and mind couldn’t get their shit together most of the time. Deep down I hated and felt guilty, because Dean missed out.
We both did.
But not today.
Screw you, mind. Eat shit, body. I’m going to fuck my husband.
Sidling up beside him on the bed, I rested my head on his tummy and stared his dick right in the eye. Behave. I’ll be good to you if you’re good to me. It nodded, or bobbed. Whatever. So I leaned forward, kissed the tip and gave it a teasing lick.
“Fuuuuuck,” Dean groaned, his low, gravelly tone, drawing my smile. I’d missed that sound so much, how it prickled my skin with goosebumps as it swept right through me. It was different to how he groaned when we were doing missionary. It was less strained. Deeper. Much more relaxed yet much more tense. It was the type of groan that held nothing at bay. Unashamed. Uncontrollable.
It struck me in places Dean hadn’t struck for so long.
Licking my lips, I gripped the base of his cock with my hand and fed it into my mouth, swirling my tongue over everything it could touch.
“Jesus, Tash.” He jerked against my grip but I held tighter. “That feels great. You’re doing great!”
I groaned.
He groaned too.
But my groan didn’t sound like his. My groan was code for ‘shut up and stop talking’. I didn’t need encouragement. I wasn’t playing a sport. All I wanted was to hear him moan and groan and lose his mind because of what I was doing to him. I wanted him to crave me like he used to, not give me a pep talk — another reason why I wasn’t a fan of blowing him.
Ignoring his condescending motivational babble, I worked him harder, feeling the onset of muscle tightness in my jaw and cheeks. It was the point in a blowjob where I’d normally give up. But again, not today — the cramps could kiss my arse. I’d only just gotten started, and for once — okay, maybe twice — I was really enjoying it. Push through it, woman. You’ve got this.
Popping my lips and releasing him from my mouth, I gave my jaw a quick reprieve by trailing kisses up and down his shaft.
“Mmm,” I moaned greedily, ready to suck on his balls but changing my mind when I saw the bush balls he was sporting. Uh uh. No way! I was keen but not that keen. Plus, I’d seen a cat cough up a hairball, and it wasn’t pretty.
Kissing back up his crown and away from the fire hazard below, I engulfed him in my mouth yet again and went to town, pumping my fist and bobbing my head as if I were at a heavy metal concert.
“Fuck. I’m close,” he hissed.
I blinked and looked up, finding his neck craned and a tight expression pinching his face. It was hot. Seeing him so lost in pleasure had always been hot. But I was at that point of ‘should I stay or should I go?’ and for a woman, it was perhaps the only point in time she was happy to make a decision on the spot while under pressure. No fluffing about. No switching or backpedalling. Okay, do I stop? Spit? Swallow? Quick! Shit! Err… swallow!
Decision made.
I was going all out.
And I was going to do it the good ol’ Tash way — Wayne’s World headbanging style — to “Bohemian Rhapsody”. I might not suck cock often, but when I did, and I was into it, I literally rocked that shit.
Hearing operatic thunderbolts of lightning, fandangos, and Galileos being sung in my head by the band, Queen, I sucked hard when Freddie Mercury sang that Beelzebub had put a devil aside for me, holding said suction with the long note of “meeeeeee” and building momentum for my headbanging, rock guitar riff finale.
My suck was strong. Consistent. And I was just about to frantically bob up and down like Wayne and Garth in the movie when Dean shouted, “Stop” and pulled out of my mouth.
“What? Dea—”
“Your turn. Quick!” he panted, fumbling with my hips and flipping me on to my back. His fingers were desperate and clumsy as he undid the button of my shorts and yanked them down my legs, which was when I realised what he meant.
“No!” I covered my ladypie with my hands and locked my legs together, tight.
“No? What do you mean no? Yes!” He got down on his knees beside the bed and tried to pry my legs open, but I turned rigid and began to twist and turn away from him. “Tash, stop it. It’s my turn to lick you.”
“No. You’re not going down there!”
“Why not?”
“Because I haven’t shaved.”
“So! Don’t be stupid. Open your legs.”
“No. I’m not clean.”
He held me still and spoke purposefully. “Did you shower this morning?”
“Yes!”
“Then you’re clean.”
“Dean, NO! Let go,” I shouted, kicking my foot into his shoulder.
He stopped and glared at me, but the heated look of anger in his eyes were pinning me with held something else I’d never seen before. They held seductive excitement and a little deviltry.
It was so unlike Dean.
“Fine. Roll over,” he demanded, not waiting for me do so, instead twisting my body for me.
I went with the forced motion and splayed on my front, barely gathering my bearings before I was dragged backward along the mattress toward him.
I squealed.
“Hands and knees, love,” he said softly but with a tone not to be argued with.
It so wasn’t him. Who is this alpha sex beast? And what has he done with my husband? For the time being, I didn’t really care. Wherever my normal boring sex husband was, he could stay there … until I’d come. Oh, please make me come, husband/non-husband. I really want to come. It’s been so long.
The thought excited me and sent a tingle alo
ng my spine just as Dean trailed his finger over my clit and then pushed it inside me. “Ohhh!” I gasped and then moaned.
He pumped me a couple of times before he replaced his finger with the head of his cock and slid into me, not wasting any time and pounding furiously. I held onto the bed sheets for dear life, my body jerking back and forth, my arse slapping his stomach.
It was hard, fast, intense … raw. It was just what I needed.
It was also quick, which didn’t bother me when my body was so buzzed with pleasure that had me closing my eyes, opening my mouth and willing myself to come for the first time in a long time.
“Yes. Yes. Oh my God YES!” My orgasm hit me with force and my arms buckled, my face planting into the bed sheets. Dean pumped a couple times more before he, too, came, the extra thrusts causing and uncomfortable mashing of my nose and cheeks into the mattress.
But I didn’t care. I’d come. And until that moment, I’d almost forgotten what it felt like. That was a scary thought; the notion that such pleasure could be wiped from your mind because you’d allowed it to be.
Collapsing on top of me, Dean’s sweat-dampened body weighed me down. It was perfect. Not that I could move anyway —my limbs were in shock.
“Wow!” I murmured into the bed.
“Yeah,” he sighed.
Laughter burst from the two of us as we lay there spent, exhausted, and probably the most sated we’d been in years. “Where did that come from?” I asked, giggling. “I think my vagina just went into cardiac arrest.”
“Sorry.” His laughter died off. “Did I hurt you?”
“No! Not at all.” I turned my head to the side so that I could see his face. “I liked it.”
If there were ever a look of sheer happiness, Dean wore it as he gently tucked my hair behind my ear, his chocolate eyes warm and placid yet sparkling, his smile accentuated by his teeth grazing his bottom lip.
Commitment Page 15
