Page 102 of Letting Go at 40

“Where are you going, beautiful?”

“I like when you call me that,” she whispers as she stands before me, spreading my knees to place her body between my legs.

“You are incredible to look at.” With my palms on her belly, I push her sweater upward and press kisses to her stomach like she did to mine in the living room.

“I don’t always feel beautiful,” she whispers.

My head snaps upward. While my fingers remain curled into her sweater and exposing her skin to me, I watch as her hand moves to her stomach, fingers spreading to cover her flesh.

“Why not?” Puzzled, I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t feel attractive.

“I’m not . . .” She glances to the side.

I take her chin in my fingers. “Not what?”

“Young. Thin. Without marks of bearing children.” The words come out in a frustrated rush.

“Are you kidding me?” I snap. “You’re fucking gorgeous. I love that you had kids. It’s made you stunning in a new way.” I release her chin and run a fingertip over her belly. “I love every mark and line.” My voice drops, awed at the wonders of motherhood.

“Your heart is astonishing. Your intelligence sexy and your compassion mesmerizing. You’re beautiful in so many ways, shapes and forms, Anna. Do not think for one second that I’m not tempted by the full package of you.” I pause from tracing her stomach and look directly into her eyes. “You’re a gift I never expected to receive.”.

Her breath hitches. “But I’m not like other—”

“Just stop,” I growl, reaching up for her chin again. “Stop right there before you piss me off.”

“But—”

“Anna. Get on your knees. I’m going to show you what you do for me.”

She drops to her knees with a thud, and my dick jumps at how quickly she responded to my command. Reaching for the back of my collar, I tug my dress shirt over my head, putting my bare chest on display. Anna’s hands immediately stroke my skin, but I catch her wrists, setting her arms to her sides.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” I lower my pants, taking down my briefs to expose how hard she makes me, how badly I want her. “This is what you do to me. This is all for you. You make me crave you. You drive me mad.” Leaning back on one arm, I grip my dick and stroke upward once on the heavy length.

Anna kneels upward and pushes my hand away, wrapping her own fingers around my length and squeezing.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid to grip me harder.” I cover her hand with mine, guiding her to be rougher with me. Her eyes spark, empowerment filling them. Need building. She licks her lips and I groan.

Leaning forward, she kisses the tip of my dick and my hips buck, wanting more. Her tongue hesitantly comes out, licking around the crown. My hand combs back her hair again, not wanting to miss a moment of watching her enjoy my cock.

“Don’t tease me, beautiful. Take what you want from me.” With that, Anna opens and draws me deep into the warmth of her mouth. My own lips fall open, but I stay silent, stunned at the pleasure, the heat, the heaven of being inside Anna’s sweet mouth. She sucks hard and long, dragging her lips to the tip before opening wide again and taking me to the back of her throat.

“Fuck, baby.” I groan, eyes closing at the attention this woman lays on me. The suction. The draw. Her mouth seems starving, and I’m thrilled she’s hungry for me.

For this first time, I’ll be too quick. Too much build up. Too much time has passed.

“Anna, if you don’t like—” I catch my breath as her teeth drag along my length with just the right amount of pressure. “I’m going to come down that pretty throat unless you pull back.”

The comment spears her onward, taking me harder, deeper, faster. Her head bobs. Her mouth salivates and then I’m pulsing into her, holding her hair back and staring at the marvel of Anna on her knees before me.

I’m hardly finished when I scoop my hands under her arms and pull her off me. Lifting her upward, I toss her to her back on the bed and shift positions with her. I’m on my knees at the side of the bed, fumbling with her jeans and tugging them off her legs.

My palms skim up her ankles, over her shins and cup her kneecaps. Then I’m spreading her legs wide and pulling her to the edge of the bed. Anna pops up on her elbows, eyes wild and watching me as I press kisses to her inner thighs, working my way higher until my nose runs over the slip of fabric covering her.

“Heaven,” I whisper to her before pressing a kiss to her covered center. I glance up at her face, meeting her eyes. God, I love this woman, but we aren’t there yet. We aren’t tossing out emotions, but we have labels on who we are.

She is mine.

And I can finally taste her.