Page 72 of Everlasting Vows

More blood flows south.

She adjusts her position, and all it does is rub her beautiful ass against my growing cock and drag a grunt from me. She does it again, and I know Abbi well enough to know she moved deliberately the second time. It takes every drop of willpower I have to pull my hips away, but she doesn’t take the hint. Arching her back, her plump ass rubs against my aching cock again, and a raw groan rumbles up my throat.

I dig my fingers into her hips to still her. “Abs,” I grumble, my voice like gravel. “You’re tired … we’re both exhausted, hungry, emotional.”

Her shoulders curl inward and her body sags, her head dropping forward. I watch her fold inwards, become small, and I despise myself for making her feel as if she needs to take up less space. I turn her around in my arms, our soapy skin sliding easily, and press every inch of my body against every inch of hers, flattening her breasts against my chest and my cock against her stomach. With one arm wound around her waist, I hold her tight as I use my free hand to tip her chin up so I can see her beautiful eyes.

I press my lips to hers with a feather-light touch. “What do you need, Abbi?”

She blinks, long and slow, then swipes her tongue across her lips. “I just need to be close to you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. We’re here together … for as long as it takes.” I promise, then seal my words with a tender kiss. With the hot water pelting down on us, and my hand wrapped in her wet hair, I kiss my wife slowly, deeply, ensuring she tastes the promises I intend to keep.

She matches me, lick for lick, stroke for stroke, taste for taste. Her desperation for connection ratchets up my own through every shared breath and soft sigh. She’s so soft and pliable in this moment, and it would be easy to forget all the hurt I’ve caused her and take what she’s offering me, but I promised myself that I would earn the privilege of making love to my wife. And I don’t feel as if I’ve done that … yet.

I pull away before we get to the point of no return. Abbi grumbles as her eyelids flutter open, exposing pupils blown wide, leaving minimal traces of the warm brown I love so much. I scan my eyes over her face, noting the puffiness of her lips, down her throat and the rapid pulse beneath her jaw, and further still to the exaggerated rise and fall of her breasts. I follow the curve of her face with my knuckles, luxuriating in the softness of her skin, and she smiles softly. I lean in and press a chaste kiss to her lips, then return her smile.

In this quiet moment, our connection feels strong, unbreakable, but I know how fragile we really are. One wrong move, a thoughtless word, or dismissive response could shatter the precarious progress we’ve made. And I don’t want to do that. I’ve worked too hard over the past months to give my wife what she needs to feel valued in our marriage.

24

NIX

Her hands drop to my ass, and she presses our hips together more firmly, dragging a desperate groan from deep inside me. There isn’t a breath of space between us, and only a fool wouldn’t read the signals Abbi’s giving me. And I’m no fool. We’ve been together for decades, and I recognize Abbi’s silent request for something more. Every nuance of her body tells me she’s seeking a more intimate connection.

She needs this. She wants to feel close. She wants to feel. To get lost in sensations and drown out the world for a while. Smother the pain. I need it too. As much as I don’t think I deserve to have her this way, I sense that if I were to dismiss her cues, it would be a perilous backward step for us.

And I don’t want to go backward.

I lift her easily, and she takes the cue to wrap her toned legs around my hips. She gasps when I press her against the tiled wall, using it for purchase. I kiss her deeply, willing her to feel my love for her, my desire.

As I grind against her, I tease my way with open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, making a path to her throat, where I suck on the pulse point there. She drops her head back against the tile like an offering, so I scrape my teeth and beard along the tender flesh of her throat. Triumph fills the cracks in my soul when she moans while her fingers grip the strands of my hair to hold me in place.

I’m not fucking going anywhere. Never again.

Kissing my way along her exposed collarbone, I dip my head further, seeking her plump breast. Pressing my hips into her to keep her in place, I cup one beauty and lick around her pert nipple. “You have the most spectacular tits.”

She uses her grip on my hair to direct my mouth back to her nipple. “Less talking, more kissing.”

I chuckle mildly at her demand. While Abbi isn’t the best at asking for what she wants in everyday life, she’s always been clear and vocal about what she likes in the bedroom. And I’ve always loved that about her. I nod against her and return to my ministrations, flicking my tongue across the hardened bud before giving the same attention to her other breast. Her back arches, pushing her tits further into my hand and mouth; the action causing the perfect friction against my eager cock.

I groan against her tit, widening my stance for purchase as I grind against her pussy. Hot water beats down on my back as I kiss and lick everywhere I can reach before returning to Abbi’s mouth. Our breaths are hot, needy pants that echo off the tile.

I pull away from her mouth and, without words, study her intently as I take my cock in hand and rub the swollen head through her slick lips. Teasing her. Teasing us both. Back and forth. Her heat is intense and welcoming, drawing a bead of precum from me. She mewls, and I groan at the feel of my steely length sliding through her slick heat.

It’s been so long.

“Nix,” she breathes in my ear before taking my earlobe between her teeth. The rasp in her voice burns through my blood all the way to my dick, testing my patience. Her thighs tighten around my hips, her fingers gripping my hair, one arm wrapped securely around my shoulders. It’s like she wants to become part of me.

I fight back the rising tide of emotion clogging my throat and bury my face in the crook of her neck. I lick her pulse and nip the tendon up the side of her throat. She swallows and drops her head back against the wall again, tightening her hold on me. Kissing my way down to her collarbone, I scrape my beard over the sensitive flesh, then suck on her silky skin, tasting soap and Abbi.

Always Abbi.

My wife, my love.

She tilts her head to the side, giving me unencumbered access, and moans, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls. Steam surrounds us as I lick my way back up her neck and cover her mouth with mine. As we kiss, our tongues tangling, I slowly push inside my wife. She tries to push down, to hurry me along, but I want to take my time, so I hold her hips in place. I dig my fingers into her soft flesh, restricting her movements as I change the angle of our kiss, deepening it, taking more, giving everything.

The floor is slippery, so I shore up my stance again to keep us both from falling. I’m out of practice. Something that used to be commonplace for us now feels unfamiliar, and worry takes root that I’m being too ambitious doing this in the shower. My muscles tremble, but Abbi holds me tighter, perhaps sensing my concern, and I let go of my worries.