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I nod.
“First of all, your ‘thing’ won’t reach.”
“Are you saying I’m small?”
“Are you fishing for a compliment?”
I shrug.
Peyton takes her hairbrush and continues with her hair while facing me. “I can’t believe we are even having this conversation right now. Why did you buy the condoms?”
“Uh, because we’ve been using them! Or am I too small for you now?”
I flinch before the hairbrush hits me. It’s okay, I deserve it. When I start laughing, her mouth drops open. She tackles me. I let her. I can’t win all our battles. She has to show her dominance over me. Besides, I love losing to her.
I hold her to me and slip my hand into her robe, my hand ghosting up her side until it cups her breast. She’s complained about how tender they’ve been since she started the shots, so that’s at the forefront of my mind. My other hand grabs hold of her ass, pulling her forward. I’m hard and she gasps when she rocks against me. My eyes meet her gaze as my tongue darts out, licking her nipple.
“Noah.” I could come just by the way she says my name or the way she’s palming my cock right now.
“I’ll be fast,” I tell her, knowing her uncle is on his way over. Maybe if he rings the bell and we don’t answer right away, he’ll take it as a clue. I doubt it though. He has a standing surf date with Quinn now.
Peyton maneuvers my joggers enough that my cock springs free. My lovely wife leans toward the nightstand and grabs a whole sleeve of condoms, ripping one off the pack. We have to be careful, especially now. It’s never fun going from feeling your wife to having a barrier between you. Although, the clean-up is nice.
I switch to her other breast, paying it some equal attention while Peyton rolls the condom over my cock. She straddles me, taking all of me in.
“Fuck me, babe,” I say it to mean, holy fucking shit this is hot, but she takes as me telling her to literally fuck me because my wife with her glorious fucking tits starts bouncing on my dick. Honestly, I’m feeling sort of left out of all this. I can’t keep playing with her breasts and she’s doing all the work. I did, however, promise her I’ll be fast, and I intend to keep that promise.
“You’re fucking sexy,” I tell her as I let her tits slap me in the face. “God, I fucking love you.”
She says nothing. It’s probably time for me to shut up and do my part. I lean back slightly, giving myself a beautiful view of where we’re connected. Just watching her take my dick inside of her should be enough to make me blow my load, but it’s not. Mostly because I need her to come first. It’s always been my rule with her.
“Lean back, baby.”
She does, giving me the access I need. My thumb presses against her clit, soft and slow at first until Peyton sets the pace. The first quiver makes me smile.
“That’s my girl.” I’m mindful of what she said about talking dirty and filter all my words to G-rated things. Parenting is going to be tough.
“Noah . . .”
“Do you need me to finish you off?” She’s on the cusp, but the orgasm she’s hungry for is holding itself at bay.
“I . . . I . . .”
“I’m your man.” I pull her to my chest, widen my legs and thrust into her until she’s screaming my name and milking my cock in the process.
She stays on my chest, panting. The smell of sex, lust, and spermicide fill the air. It’s a good thing Xander isn’t coming into our bedroom. There’s just something about a family member knowing you just got laid. It’s not as cool as it might seem.
After Peyton rolls off me, I get up and hobble my way to the bathroom. Honestly, I should’ve taken my pants off, but this was a quickie with quickie type effort. Besides, I blame Peyton. She follows me and uses the toilet while I wash my hands. Ah, the joys of being married.
As soon as I leave the bathroom the doorbell rings. Perfect timing.
“Hey,” I say as I open the door. Xander has his wetsuit suit on up to his waist. I’m tempted to go surfing with him and Quinn and say fuck it to the Pioneers for dragging their feet on my renewal. I took them to the Super Bowl and won. It’s not my fault our team had so many injuries this past season that we didn’t make it out of round one. I’m good, but I can’t hike the ball to myself, run, pass, tackle, and kick the pigskin through the goal posts. Bud should’ve listened to me during preseason when I told him the kicker he just had to have, can’t kick a decent twenty-yard field goal. If the guy can’t kick twenty, he’s no use to us.
“Good morning.”
It is indeed a good morning. “Peyton will be out in a second. She’s running a bit late this morning.”
“No worries. Quinn always says he’ll wait for me but doesn’t.”
