Page 63 of Cursing My Cheating Husband

She stepped back, her eyes never leaving mine. “Take off my clothes.”

I peeled the wet fabric of her shirt over her head, then reached behind her to unclasp her bra. I slid the straps down her arms, and her perfect breasts were bare before me.

I knelt and hooked my fingers into her waistband, working the damp denim down over her hips. She steadied herself with a hand on my shoulder as I pulled the jeans down her legs. When I reached her panties, I drew them down slowly, revealing her bare pussy.

She stood completely naked now, her skin still dewy. She settled onto the bed, as I looked up at her from where I knelt. Her legs parted in invitation as she reclined back, propping herself up slightly on her elbows.

I crawled toward her and positioned myself between her thighs. I could see how ready she was for me, glistening in the low light. The scent of her arousal made my mouth water and my cock insanely hard.

My hands slid up her calves, over her knees, pushing her legs wider as I settled in.

Her warm, intoxicating scent enveloped me as I reached out with my fingers and traced the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips, her skin flushing at my touch.

I leaned in, quivering with overwhelming gratitude that she’d allowed me this. My lips hovered just above her pussy, close enough to feel the heat coming off her. I exhaled slowly, my breath ghosting over her clit, and her thighs tensed, her fingers twisting into the sheets.

I dragged my tongue up her slit in one slow, deliberate stroke, just the way I knew she liked it. Her hips jerked, a needy sound escaping her throat, and I groaned against her, the vibration making her shudder.

God, I’d missed this. Missed her. And the responsiveness of her body. Every twitch, every gasp, every shift of her hips told me exactly what she needed.

I sucked her clit into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves, and her fingers flew to my hair, gripping tight.

That grip in my hair meant I was doing it right.

“Oh fuck yes.” Her voice was ragged, her thighs trembling around my head as I worked her, my tongue fucking into her tight, wet heat. She was soaking, her juices coating my chin, and I lapped at her like the starving man that I was, desperate to memorize every detail of her again.

This was everything. This taste, this moment, this woman. I’d taken it all for granted before, but I’d never make that mistake again. If this was the only time she’d ever let me touch her like this, I was going to make it count.

I hooked my arms under her ass, lifting her higher, tilting her hips just right so I could drive my tongue deeper. Her moans filled the room, high and needy, her body writhing beneath me.

I relished the sounds she was making, treasuring the feeling that I was finally giving her pleasure instead of making her suffer.

Her back arched, her pussy clenching, and I knew she was close. That subtle shift in her breathing, the way her thighs quaked… it had been too long, but I remembered all these signs. I redoubled my efforts, sucking her clit between my lips, flicking it with the tip of my tongue while I thrust two fingers inside her. She was dripping, her walls fluttering around me, and I curled my fingers, hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars.

Her voice broke, her nails digging into my scalp, and I could feel her teetering on the edge. I didn’t let up.

Her orgasm crashed over her like a wave, her pussy pulsing around my fingers, her thighs locking around my head as she came with a cry. I rode it out, licking and sucking until she was a trembling, boneless mess beneath me, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat.

I stayed there, my face still buried between her thighs, breathing in the scent of her satisfaction. My arms remained wrapped around her legs, holding her gently.

I wished she could understand everything I felt from the way I’d just worshipped her. How much I loved her, and that I would never again be the man who hurt her. How desperately I hoped she would allow me to pleasure her this way again, that this wouldn’t be the last time. I wish I knew how to say all this in a way that she would actually believe it. But after all my lies, I knew words from me were less than worthless. Maybe somehow she could feel my sincerity through a connection like this.

Her fingers were still tangled in my hair, but gradually her grip loosened. Her hands trailed down, her fingertips sliding over my face in what almost felt like a caress.

Suddenly, her eyes went wide and fixed me with an expression that looked like alarm.

Then she jerked back suddenly, snatching her hand away and scooting back on the bed.

I deflated. Did women have post-nut clarity? Because that was what her reaction looked like, second thoughts now that her horniness had passed.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I hope you don’t regret it.”

“What, no? That’s not it,” she stammered, collecting herself. “It’s nothing. That was great. You did well.”

She slid back further on the bed, pulling the cover over herself. “I think I’m crashing after the adrenaline of this whole night. I’m exhausted.”

Her meaning was clear. I stood and stepped toward the door. “I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll be in the yard.” I paused. “Thank you. For letting me do that for you.”

“Maddox?” she called after me.