Sinners at the Altar

by Olivia Cunning

  “After all my hard work to get you past that?” She leaned back to look at him, and her smirk belayed her willingness to work with him again if necessary.

  His smartass remark was interrupted by her belly grumbling with hunger. He jerked back to give her tummy an appraising look and pulled his hand free from the snug passages between her thighs.

  “The pie was divine,” Eric said. “But how about some cake and maybe some leftover lasagna? Even though I just sampled pie, I’m still hungry and you haven’t eaten anything.”

  “Maybe I’ll have a large, hard sausage for dessert. I’ll eat it formally in the dining room.”

  He grinned. She was ready for their third match already? There would be no complaints out of him.

  She kissed him briefly and then hopped off the counter. “I’ll be right back,” she said and sauntered off to the half bath in the hall. He wanted a piece of that hot ass next, he decided, so he could stare at the name tattooed across her lower back. His name.

  When she disappeared from sight, he washed his hands in the sink and humming under his breath, popped the leftover lasagna in the microwave. Myrna had made it for his birthday celebration a few days before. The smell of tomatoes, Italian herbs, cheese, and sausage began to fill the room as the food warmed. A pair of soft lips kissed the middle of his back, and Rebekah’s small hands circled his waist. His cock had started to soften again but rose with distracting rapidity as she stroked his length gently between her palms.

  “Damn, woman, can’t a man eat before you demand additional satisfaction?”

  “You just had pie,” she reminded him. “I’m the one who hasn’t eaten yet.”

  He groaned as her thumbs massaged his cockhead gently. Neither one of them was going to get any sustenance if she kept that up.

  “We already christened this room,” he reminded her. “Save it for the dining room.”

  “I figured if I make you come here, the dining room will be my victory as well.”

  “You’re willing to resort to cheating?” He chuckled and opened the cabinet next to the microwave to pull out a pair of plates, loving the fact that he needed two. “I never realized how competitive you are.”

  “I love to win,” she said, her hand moving between his legs to cup his heavy balls. “Especially when the prize is you.”

  “The prize is breakfast in bed, remember?” He set the plates on the counter and closed his eyes, pretending nonchalance as his flesh pulsated with pleasure beneath her gentle touch.

  “You’re the real prize,” she whispered and kissed trails of tingly delight down his spine. “I’m so glad I won you.”

  “You didn’t have to work very hard,” he admitted with a laugh. “You had no competition.”

  The microwaved beeped, and Eric retrieved the container, somehow managing not to drop it as Rebekah trailed after him, her hand now lingering at the base of his cock.

  “I’d fight for you,” she said. “You know that, right?”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. You’re mine and I’m yours and that’s the way it’s going to be forever. No take-it-backsies.”

  “No take-it-backsies,” she agreed.

  He scooped steaming lasagna onto two plates, having to pause several times as her hand did marvelous things to his attentive cock.

  “If you keep that up, I’m going to have to paddle your ass,” he said finally.

  “If I keep what up?”

  “Playing with my dick while I’m trying to get dinner ready.”

  Her palm skimmed his length, and he shuddered.

  “Then I guess you’re going to have to paddle my ass.”

  She squeaked in surprise when he turned abruptly and lifted her off the floor by her upper arms.

  “Eric!”

  He hauled her into the dining room, turned her to face the long white-washed table, and pressed between her shoulders to urge her to bend forward. She complied without hesitation. He drew back his hand to swat her ass and stopped short when confronted by her panties.

  “Why did you put your panties back on?” he asked.

  “I’m a bit… wet,” she said breathlessly. “I didn’t want to make a mess on the chairs.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about that,” he said. “Take them off.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, apparently taken aback by the uncharacteristic harshness in his tone. He didn’t falter. And he was going to paddle her ass while he fucked her. He wouldn’t spank her particularly hard, but he would make sure she felt it.

  “Off!” he said when she did nothing but blink at him over her shoulder.

  Leaning over the table, she slowly lowered her panties, exposing her perfect rump to his appreciative stare. She got them as far as her knees before his need for her became too much. He swatted her ass with his palm. She gasped in surprise. He massaged the soft globe of flesh and then spanked her again. Her pale skin reddened beneath his hand.

  Perhaps he was being too rough with her tender backside.

  She widened her stance slightly, her legs held together by the panties at her knees, and flattened her chest and belly to the table, inviting more. He swatted her untouched cheek, and she jerked before moaning brokenly.

  “Do you like your punishment, naughty wife?”

  “Oh yes,” she whispered.

  He used his free hand to direct his cock into her hot pussy. He slid deep without resistance.

  “Oh God,” she said, her voice muffled by the table. “Fuck me hard.”

  He was glad they were of the same mind. And he planned to claim his orgasm in the dining room. Even up the score a bit. He thrust into her hard and fast, slapping her ass every few dozen strokes to prevent her from coming. At least he’d anticipated that the stinging pain would hold her orgasm at bay. Instead it sent her flying. Her screams of release dragged him along for the ride. He pulled out at the last moment to watch himself come over her lower back in several vigorous spurts. He massaged his cum into his tattooed name and then rubbed her bright red ass with both palms.

  “You liked that?” he asked, a bit surprised that she’d responded so enthusiastically to rough handling.

  “Mmm hmm,” she purred. “I like everything you do to me. I do believe the score is now three to one in my favor.”

  “I just came all over your back, Rebekah Sticks,” he reminded her. “The score is two to two.”

  “I believe I came first. So the point goes to me.”

  “Maybe you were faking it.”

  “You know I never fake it.”

  “Not even to win?”

  She rose from the table and turned to look up at him with her pair of baby blues. He melted on the spot.

  She shook her head slowly. “I never fake it. I came first.”

  “Fine, we’ll call it a tie.”

  “Sore loser,” she accused with a grin. “Fine. A tie. That makes it three to two. I’m still winning.”

  She kicked off her panties and practically skipped back into the kitchen to claim her plate of now cool lasagna.

  She settled for sitting on a dishtowel while they ate at the dining room table. Naked. He hoped they’d take all of their meals naked. She was so beautiful sitting across from him—completely comfortable in her own skin—that he scarcely tasted the delicious lasagna he shoveled into his mouth.

  “So I think Isaac is going to go back to Africa for a while,” she said, poking at a bit of sausage with her fork.

  He didn’t like that she looked so depressed about the notion of Isaac leaving the continent. Eric was fucking stoked about the news himself.

  “I’m sure he’ll be happier there,” she said.

  “You’re going to miss him, aren’t you?” Eric asked, trying to ignore the stabs of jealousy spiking up his throat.

  She nodded. “He just got back. We haven’t even had time to go shopping together.”

  “Shopping?”

  She grinned. “I should have realized he was gay a long time ago. The man lov
es to shop. We used to have so much fun together. Well, except when we tried to have sex. That never did feel quite right with him.”

  “Your vagina was trying to wait for me,” Eric claimed. “It knew he wasn’t the right dick for you.”

  She laughed. “Smart vagina. I should have listened to it. It knows a thing or two about dicks.”

  “I’m insanely jealous of that guy. Do you realize that?”

  “Why?” she asked. “He’s just a friend.”

  “A friend who fucked you before I did. A friend you loved before you loved me.”

  Her eyebrows crinkled together as she stared at her plate and took several small bites.

  “I’ll always love him, Eric.”

  His heart wrenched in two.

  “But it’s nothing like the love I feel for you,” she continued. “He’s just a friend.” She shrugged. “Apparently he was always just a friend and I wanted it to be more, not because I felt more for him, but because...” She tapped her fork against her plate, still not looking at him. “Because it made sense. It was a logical relationship, not a passionate one. I never felt as if my world would end if Isaac was no longer in my life. I never got giddy with happiness just looking at him. I never thought I’d die if he didn’t fuck me immediately. I never felt as if he completed me. Complemented me, yes, but he never completed me. Never made me feel whole, as if everything that was missing in my life was wrapped up in a perfect package and delivered directly to my heart.”

  She finally met Eric’s eyes.

  “Isaac never made me feel for even an instant the way you make me feel every moment since I met you, Eric. He’s not your competition, he’s lost somewhere in your shadow. So don’t be jealous. There is nothing for you to be jealous of. The love I feel for Isaac is friendship, that’s all it ever was. I just never realized what it was until I had real love. With you.”

  “I’ll never be jealous of that douchebag again,” Eric said, too overwhelmed with emotion to say anything more meaningful.

  Rebekah laughed. “Good.”

  “But I am glad he’s leaving the continent.” Maybe a lion would eat him.

  Rebekah rolled her eyes and shook her head. “He’s not a threat to you, Eric.”

  “I know. I just like him better not being a threat halfway around the world.”

  “You’d like him once you got to know him,” Rebekah said.

  Eric doubted that, but he let it drop. He didn’t want to talk about Isaac. Now that his belly was full, he was ready to do a bit more celebrating with his bride. “Are you ready for dessert?”

  “I’d love some cake,” she said.

  “You’re having big hard sausage for dessert. Remember?”

  “If I promise to be very good—having learned my lesson after your brutal spanking.” She smirked at him. “Can I have two desserts tonight?”

  “Of course.” He slipped from his chair and leaned over to kiss her before taking their plates to the kitchen and cutting two mostly intact pieces of birthday cake.

  When he returned to her, she was staring down at her wedding ring, twisting it around her finger. She had that expression on her face. The one of sad longing she wore when she thought about not being able to have a baby.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, slipping into the seat beside her this time.

  She shook her head slightly. “Everything is perfect,” she said and smiled up at him.

  “We’ll adopt a baby,” he said. “We can head to an agency right now if you want.”

  She huffed on a half laugh. “How did you know I was thinking about babies?”

  “You have a thinking-about-babies expression,” he said. “I’ve seen it frequently enough that I recognize it.”

  “I was just thinking I’ll never be able to pass this ring down to my children,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, because even if we adopt a dozen of them—”

  “A dozen of them?”

  She patted his hand. “They won’t be blood.”

  He lifted an eyebrow at her. “What’s more important? Blood or love?”

  When she paused in reflection, he took her hand and squeezed it. “Love is more important,” he said. “Love. I have no blood ties, but I have you. It’s far more important.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. I’m being foolish. I just… Sometimes I…”

  He stroked the silky hair at the back of her head. “I know. You never have to say it. I know you feel you’ve lost something irreplaceable, but there are kids out there who’ve lost something irreplaceable too. They’ve lost the love of their mothers. You can give them that. It will mean everything to them. Trust me on that.”

  She gave him a rather watery smile and wrapped her arms around him. “I love you,” she whispered.

  “Eat your cake,” he said after a long moment.

  “And then sausage,” she said with a giggle.

  “You didn’t think I’d forget that, did you?”

  He won a point in the living room, when Rebekah sucked her dessert into submission on the sofa. Rebekah’s point on the stairs came easily—literally—and they agreed to call their tryst against the tile wall in the master bathroom shower a tie. They hadn’t even started on the first of their six bedrooms when Rebekah called a timeout.

  “Can we finish tomorrow?” she asked, leaning against the inside of the bathroom door, a fluffy white towel wrapped around her exhausted body.

  “Are you giving up?” he asked.

  “If I give up, do you win?” she asked wearily.

  He rubbed the water from his sopping hair with a towel as he watched her. “Yep.”

  “Well, that ain’t happening. To bed with you, husband,” she said.

  She crawled up onto the bed, flopped onto her back, and held her arms out to the ceiling. “Take me. I’m yours,” she said.

  He was going to have to pull out some marital aids, he decided, and headed toward the closet. He knew he’d be unable to get hard again for at least an hour and surely Rebekah would need more stimulation than usual to come after that gusher she’d just had in the shower.

  By the time he made it to bed with a six-pack of vibrators pressed against his bare belly, Rebekah had fallen asleep. He grinned and whispered, “I win,” but he knew damned well he’d have no problem reinstating their competition in the morning. They couldn’t leave this game between them unfinished.

  He set the vibrators within reach on the nightstand, planning to give her one hell of a morning wakeup call, and lit a candle. He switched off the overhead light and climbed into bed with his wife. She sighed contentedly when he drew her into his arms and flipped the comforter over their entwined bodies.

  His body was tired, but his mind was so full, he doubted he’d ever sleep. So he held her and instead of shutting the world away, he let his thoughts wander. Unfortunately they wandered in ways he didn’t necessarily like.

  Near sunrise, Eric rested on one elbow so he could stare down into the sweet face of his wife while she slept. The candle on the bedside table flickered wildly as it burned up the last of its fuel. Eric’s mind was still too full to sleep. His heart too full to move from her side. He traced one of her eyebrows with a fingertip, overwhelmed by the tenderness she stirred within him. At times he wanted to cradle her against him gently, afraid she’d break. At other times he longed to squeeze her tightly, to make sure she could feel the strength of his love. God knew he’d never be able to express it with the depth he felt it. She filled so much within him he’d never realized was hollow. But there were still a few places she couldn’t touch. Couldn’t fill. He wondered if he could love Rebekah better if he were whole.

  If he tried to fill those spots of emptiness that had been left behind early in his childhood, maybe he could be a man worthy of her attention.

  Maybe it was time.

  Time to seek out his mother. Time to know the truth about why the heartless bitch had abandoned him. He didn’t even know if the woman was alive. Wasn
’t sure if he cared if she was alive. But if she was... If she was, he wanted to know. Needed to face her. He’d thought that by burying her abandonment beneath years and years of disregard, she would cease to haunt him, but he’d been pretending. With Rebekah by his side, for the first time in his life Eric had the courage to find answers to questions that had eaten at him for years. With Rebekah by his side, he could face anything.

  He was no longer alone.

  Eric tugged Rebekah’s small body solidly against his chest, his heart thudding painfully beneath her temple. She stirred, her arm moving to circle his waist.

  “Eric?” she murmured.

  He remembered a time when she’d woken from sleep and, unfamiliar with having strange men in her bed, she’d called him Isaac. Now the only name she whispered when pulled from her dreams was Eric’s. He fucking loved that.

  “Is it morning?” she murmured, her voice slurred with sleep.

  “Not yet.”

  “Are you horny again already?” And instead of grumbling about his ceaseless libido interfering with her sleep, she turned her head to kiss his chest.

  “Getting that way,” he said with a grin.

  Her hand reached up and sought his face, rubbing at the beard stubble she found beneath her fingertips. “Did you sleep well?”

  Her breath warmed the skin of his chest and the achingly full heart within.

  “I haven’t slept at all,” he said. “I’ve been watching you sleep.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were the creepy stalker type?” she asked.

  “You’re on to me,” he said with a grin. “Can’t seem to help my limitless infatuation for you, Mrs. Sticks.”

  “Completely understandable. I’m pretty awesome, you know.” She rasped her fingernails gently over his beard stubble.

  “I know.” He pressed a kiss to her hair and forced himself to be serious, even though every instinct preferred to continue their light-hearted banter. “Do you really think we can find out about my mother?” he forced out.

  Rebekah stiffened slightly and then tugged away from his chest so she could look at him in the low flicker of the candlelight. “I’m sure we can. Do you want to try?”