by Teagan Kade
He’s on the edge of the bed smiling back, makes even that stupid hospital smock look like high fashion. He pulls at it. “Damn, and here I was just getting used to this thing.”
The bandage around his head has been removed, all his tests clear.
I place the clothes down beside him and come between his legs, snaking my arms around his neck and pressing my crotch to his, noting the way he hardens against me. “Maybe bring it with you. You know, for later.” I wink.
“Mrs. King,” he smiles. “When you did you become so kinky?”
*
I place the breakfast tray down next to the bed, Nolan easing himself upright and breathing in. “Ah, the perks of having a brother who can actually cook.”
I take a seat on the edge of the bed. “If you’re expecting this kind of culinary perfection from your wife, you’re dreaming. I’ll screw up toast and butter if you give me the chance.”
He reaches for me, brushing my hair back and smiling. “You have other, more advantageous qualities, my dear.”
I trace my finger down his arm, follow the inky lines of his tattoos. “Such as?”
His hand goes to the top button of my blouse, pops it open and moves to the next. “Your eloquent way with words, for example.”
“Fuck off,” I laugh.
“Mmm, there we go.”
A third button and the blouse has opened enough for my breasts to show, nipples stiffening in the cups of my bra. “Contrary to what my father says, my mother is a saint. Truth is, I don’t know where I get my potty mouth.”
“Watching too much NBA as a kid, perhaps?”
With the final button the blouse opens completely, parting down the center.
“Steph Curry’s mom actually told him she was going to wash his mouth out with soap, even sent him two home videos. My mom doesn’t know the half of what happens out there on the court. She’d be mortified at a quarter of what comes out of my mouth.”
“You clearly haven’t been on a hockey rink. It’s like the Wild West, but everyone has a stick instead of a gun.” The left side of the blouse whispers aside. Nolan takes a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it, testing its texture. I can tell by the way his boxers are jutting out like a contemporary art installation it’s to his satisfaction.
“Sounds like fun if you ask me,” I tell him.
“I think you’d make an excellent hockey player, personally.”
Need is already starting to stir inside me. “What position would I play?”
His fingers leave my nipple, walk across to the center of my chest where my heart beats against them in a tight cadence. “Center sounds about right. They’re responsible for quarterbacking both ends of the ice, must be good at passing and face-offs, shooting. Teams look for creativity when it comes to choosing a center…and smarts.”
I whistle. “Smart, creative—I’ll take that, but pretty sure I’d be a defenseman. I like it physical.”
He groans deep from within his chest, an animal. “I know.”
I stand abruptly and do up my blouse. I’m not sure he’s ready for sex yet. It’s only been a few days since he left the hospital. I think he’s actually enjoyed being babied like this, far more than he should. Even the others have pitched in, Phoenix and Heather providing our meals, Peyton and Erin picking up a PlayStation earlier in the week and hooking it up in his room. The guy’s never going to want to leave.
I’ve enjoyed it too, in my own way, and yes, maybe it’s because he’s been shirtless this whole time, a veritable eye candy overload, but it’s also given us a lot of time to chat, and talk, and simply be close. I feel like I know him on a far deeper level than ever before. It sounds strange saying that, getting to know your husband after the fact, but it has played out well.
He looks at me like a poor lost puppy who’s going without a meal. “Really?”
I finish the top button. “You’re in no condition for that, mister. Doctor’s orders.”
He reaches down up where the wound at the back of his head is, trying not to grimace. “See? Perfectly fine. A bee sting.”
“Eat up,” I laugh, heading downstairs.
Heather’s cleaning up downstairs. “How’s the patient?”
“You know these King boys,” I tell her. “They act all hard but really they’re just looking for someone to pamper them, rock them to sleep and coo in their ear.”
“Tell me about it,” Heather replies. “Phoenix wanted to come with me to the nail salon, I kid you not.”
“You don’t seem like the nail salon type,” I say, cautious not to overstep here, but Heather seems completely down to earth, that cool rocker chick you always wanted to be friends with in high school but who tread her own path and didn’t give a damn about anything else.
“I grew up without a mother figure, but I suppose I’ve come around to the feminine arts lately.” She looks me up and down. “No offense, but you don’t seem like much of a Kardashian either.”
I lean against the kitchen counter. “I’ve always been pegged as a tomboy, which was just fine by me. The boys always left me alone, too busy trying to hit on the cheer squad to see what I was packing under my Bulls jacket.”
“I’ve seen you play, by the way. You’re pretty great.”
I take the compliment. “Thanks. You don’t play any sport?”
She laughs aloud. “Trust me,” she says, prodding her thumb towards the second floor of the house, “running around after that cute idiot is exercise enough.”
“I hear you.”
She puts the last plate away, moving to the sink to wash her hands. “Phoenix and I are headed out now, which means you’ve got to the place to yourself.”
“Oh?”
She gives me a quick wink. “It’s a rare event, take advantage. Scream the house down if you want to.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I see Heather and Phoenix off, closing the front door behind myself and wondering what to do. I decide to take a shower first, find my fingers pressing between my legs until I realize I’ve got a perfectly good way to get off in the room next door.
Damn the doctor. I want to get laid.
I dry myself off and walk around the corner to Nolan’s room, entering naked and closing the door behind myself. It’s crazy, but even now I’m embarrassed to be naked in front of him. Me? Linnea Marsden.
He sits up straight now. “Well, well, what do we have here?”
I strut to the bed, stopping just out of reach. I put my hands behind my back and twist on a toe. “We have the house to ourselves.”
I can see how desperate he is. Need is coming off him in waves.
“Would you like to take advantage?” I offer.
He kicks the covers away, stripping off his boxers in one quick movement. “Hell yes, I do.”
He stands and comes forward, no sign of pain, taking me around the waist and pulling me against his hardness.
We kiss and I’m conscious of the urgency in it. I let my hands slide into his hair, pull him into it and let his tongue explore my mouth.
He smells good, really good for someone who’s been laid up in bed. Beyond is the shampoo I just used, my freshly toweled skin still smarting from the shower.
I open my mouth wider and press my lips to his, never want this kiss to end, for this moment to be frozen in time for all eternity.
I break away panting, struggling for breath. This has been building up for days and I’m not sure I’m going to last a single second more without him inside me.
He presses his forehead to mine, breathing hard. “We never got to consummate the marriage, you know.”
“Honeymoon sex?”
“That’s right. I had it all planned out.”
“You did?”
He nods against me, turning us so the back of my legs hit the edge of the bed. He keeps coming forward and I’m folded down onto the mattress, forced onto my back.
“What are you going to do?” I pant, already spreading my legs
in anticipation.
“Well, Mrs. King, why don’t you just lie back and see for yourself?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
NOLAN
I crouch down and pull her towards me, the plump lips of her sex an inch from my face. It’s beautiful. I could stare at it for hours studying the subtle lines, the wet center…every intricate detail.
I start on the puffy flesh of her inner thigh, just above the knee, slowly kissing my way towards the pink beacon of her pussy.
Her hands go to her breasts. She kneads them slowly while I gently pass my tongue along her slit, shifting to the other leg. She lets out a sigh—mixed pleasure and annoyance—before I move back up and let my tongue dive deep into her hole.
Linnea lets out a sharp, stunted moan as I taste her. I can’t get enough, cock thick and hard between my legs, the warmth and wetness welcome against my tongue, lips and lower face.
I explore her with my tongue, let it wander and test the textures of her pussy until she’s lifting from the bed, her ass cheeks pressing together as she does so, her entire body bent and contorted.
I taste and study, lap and lick, force my tongue as far as it will go inside her. As I lift, I’m rewarded by the sight of her nipples turning to tawny towers beyond, her thumb and forefinger ringing them to attention.
The moaning becomes a constant, a droning endorsement of my powers.
This is my wife and I intend to make it known I adore every hot inch of her.
I take my index finger and let it sit against the slack valley of her sex, hold it there while I concentrate on her clit. Once I’m sure she’s ready I slide the finger inwards to the third knuckle. I turn and hook it upwards, let it sit against the new texture that marks out her g-spot. Her back bows and I know I have the right spot.
She sits up and looks down at me, eyes wide and manic. She starts to shift her hips forward, bucking herself against my face and finger.
“God, Nolan,” she pants. “That’s…so…so, so good.”
Her words are disjointed, voice thick with delight.
I let my finger fuck her faster, sucking her clit harder, never letting up on the rhythm for a single second.
“Fuck,” she pants, mono-syllabic, jerking and writhing, hands moving from her breasts to weave through my hair, pulling and gripping to bring me closer, and it’s then I know she’d pull me right into herself if she could, whatever it took to get off.
I ease up, slow the pace until her thighs snap around my head, her fingers clawing at my scalp, willing me on. I know this kind of teasing will be killing her, but I also know it will pay off in the long run.
Besides, I’m not ready to finish. I enjoy this, eating her out, feeling the way each lash of my tongue makes her wetter, separating the flavors of her sex from one another, the full spectrum of her desire against my tongue.
“Fuck, yes. Yes. Please, let me come,” she pleads. “Please!” she screams, shaking now, caught in a seizure of ecstasy, her cum flowing freely.
But it’s not enough. I want her to remember this moment. I want her to come harder than she’s ever come before.
I let my finger slide from her pussy. I feel the loss of it, the way her walls contract closed once more. She’s already begging me to put it back in, but I ignore her protests, coming free of the hot space between her legs.
I grab her hip and flip her over so she’s lying on her stomach. I drag her to the edge of the bed and kick her legs apart with my knees, her pussy splitting open—cherry red and inviting.
“Nolan, what are you doing?” She’s trying to look behind herself, frantic and flustered. I see the way her skin blushes before orgasm, the patches of pink spreading out over the ivory white of her skin that mark her desperation.
I end her torment by sliding my middle finger deep into her pussy, let the tip find her g-spot once more. From below, I let my thumb work her clit, the two digits together like a crab’s claw slowly bringing her to the edge of orgasm.
“Ho-ly fuck,” she shivers, hands splaying out to steady herself.
But I saved the best for last.
Slowly, painfully slow, I bring my free hand up and fill it with one of her ass cheeks. I pull it to the side, the tight button of her asshole revealed under my watchful eyes.
Her body goes drum tight, but I won’t relent.
“Nolan?”
Cheeks spread, I come forward and lick the rim of her asshole with the very tip of my tongue, pulling back to savor her reaction.
She’s completely stiff, a silent thrum of something new and bold working its way through her as I return and lick again, firmer and stronger now, letting my tongue ring her hole and tap against its center.
I add pressure to her clit with my thumb, drive my middle finger in deeper to her wetness, working her in a come-hither motion until I know there’s no return.
And it’s then, right as I add a second finger to her sex, as I place my lips against her taint, she reaches the threshold.
Her pussy is molten, flooded as if by fire, clamping and releasing against my fingers, her ass cheeks clapping together as I pull away, her whole body caught in a rippling wave of shock.
She doesn’t speak through her orgasm—only grunts as I let my thumb work over her clit.
I reach down and find my cock, jerking myself off at the sight, forced to stop before I release, too.
When I’m sure she’s done, one final shudder and clench to signal the end of it, I withdraw my fingers and run them into my mouth, savor once more the sharp taste of her sex.
She looks back and watches me with glassy, bottle-green eyes, hands reaching to spread herself for me. Her face is red and wild. “Fuck me,” she says, simple as that.
I don’t need a second invitation. I pick her up around the waist and lift her onto her knees on the bed, put one foot up onto the mattress as I angle myself behind her. I take hold of my cock and place it against her cleft, driving deep.
She lets her stomach drop and moans. The sound she makes every time I plunge inside her is so sweet, so fucking perfect I almost come then and there, but I hold off and thrust forward again, amazed how wet she is for me, the flood of slick need that envelops my cock each time I slide into her.
She begs for more—to go deeper, harder.
I grip her ass with both hands, feel myself slowly lose control and fuck her sweet body with everything I have.
I can’t see them, but I feel her swollen breasts swinging together ahead of me, the honey-soft mounds of her ass filling my fingers, the whole thing heaven incarnate.
I close my eyes and concentrate, can still taste her in my mouth as I stroke deeper.
A low growl starts somewhere in my chest. My balls tighten. I slow down, pausing at the end of her before thrusting hard, each one met with a punctuated gasp from her lips.
Her hand moves between her legs. She fingers her clit in fast circles, willing herself towards a second orgasm.
“Keep…going,” she moans.
I let go of her ass, reaching forward for her hips and pulling her against me hard, each collision of our bodies defined by a wet slap that sounds across the room.
I hope to hell she was right about us being alone.
My head’s a blur. I can’t separate cock from consciousness. It’s one and the same.
I’m sweating, heaving against her with my full weight, the bed shifting across the floor with each vaulted thrust.
“Yes,” she groans, purring in delight, “give it to me.”
Her finger becomes a blur against her clit and suddenly she’s convulsing again.
It’s a miracle I’ve held off this long, but the sensation of another climax sweeping through her, the sudden waver in her voice… It’s too much.
I breach her with short, hard thrusts, her pussy clamping down on my cock. There, deep inside the silky pocket of her sex, I come like I’ve never come before. I shoot my load, my moans mingling with hers and each contraction of her pussy met with another rush of cum.
> I fall over her back, my cock still jerking inside her, my fingers weaving into her hair and tightening inside it. I fist it in my hand and lift her head from the mattress, cheek hot and red from lying against it. She turns and I catch her mouth, covering it with my own.
Still panting heavily, I fall to the side and bring her with me, another jerk from my balls met with a phantom contraction from her pussy, the two working in tandem to draw out every ounce of pleasure.
We lie there in silence for several minutes recovering, Linnea tucked into my chest.
When she opens her legs again, it’s almost a shock, waking me from some strange slumber.
She reaches between herself, fingers testing the area where my length remains inside her. “You’re still hard,” she muses.
“Can you blame me?” I tell her.
With more poise than seems physically possible, Linnea pushes back, rolling me onto my back. She tucks and lifts, turns until she’s straddling me, my cock still inside her.
Hands on my chest, she slowly begins to grind down, smiling all the while. “You think you’ve got anything left for me?”
I’m not sure, to be honest, but the way she’s moving against me is suggesting that might be in question.
I go to reach for her, but she swats my hands away. “No, this is my treat.”
Her hips rock and roll against me. It’s a hot mess between us, sticky and wet. Most girls would be running for the bathroom, but Linnea couldn’t care less. If anything, it’s only making the whole thing hotter. I feel fresh desire coating my cock, the greater freedom it allows inside her.
Her breasts bounce high on her chest. She takes a hand from my chest to caress one of them, fondling it as she rides my cock.
I watch with fascination at the way her fingers move to find her nipple, pinching it until it’s pebble hard and a deep, ochre brown.
Once again, the sight overwhelms me. My cock starts to jerk with the first hints of orgasm, balls lifting back in position apparently not spent.
I can’t do anything but lie there as she fucks me, smiling and teasing and rolling those perfect hips until she knows I can’t hold back any longer.
I tell her, announce I’m going to come.
