The Rejected Wife: Chapter 4

Soft. Sweet. I draw in her breath, relishing the sweet scent of apple blossoms that makes my mouth water. The taste of her lips is like honey; it arrows down to my groin. I’m instantly hard. Sparks flare in my belly. My fingers tremble on her waist with this yearning that grips me. My heart races in my chest, and when I swipe my tongue at the seam of her mouth, she parts it. Instantly, I slide my tongue over hers. The sparks turn into an inferno. My muscles bunch. My chest hurts. The emotions consume me. I can’t stop myself from hauling her closer, so we’re joined from thigh to stomach to chest. She must feel the evidence of my desire throb against her lower belly, for a moan leaves her lips.

I swallow it down, slide my palm down to cup her bottom and lift her.

She wraps her legs around me, hooks her ankles behind me, and goddamn, feeling the heat of her soft center through the clothes we’re wearing turns my blood into gasoline. The fire zips through my veins until I feel my body turn into a nuclear reactor of longing. I need to get closer to her. I need to feel her skin against mine, her hands on me, hear her soft sighs and whimpers, smell her, taste the dew of her arousal on my tongue.

My feet seem to move of their own accord until I reach a table adjacent to the one we’d occupied. This one is empty of any settings.

I place her on it and drag my fingers up the undersides of her thigh. She groans into my mouth, and the sound goes straight to my head.

I tilt my head, drag my tongue over her teeth, and she melts into me. Her surrender spurs my desire further. My thigh muscles bunch; my biceps turn into blocks of concrete. I need…to taste her.

I tear my mouth from hers and sink down to my knees between her legs. ‘Nobody will disturb us.”

She glances down, her eyes glazed, her breath coming in pants.

Did she hear what I said? When I plant my palm on her stomach and urge her back, she doesn’t protest. She folds back onto the table. Balancing herself on her elbows, she watches as I push her skirt up her thighs.

‘Stop me,’ I urge her.

She bites her lower lip, then shakes her head.

‘I want to eat you out,’ I say slowly, wanting to make sure I have her consent. ‘May I?’

When she nods, I groan. ‘Say yes, baby.’

‘Yes,’ she croaks. Then, ‘Yes,’ she says in a louder voice.

I drag my nose up the exposed skin of her thigh, and she cries out. She tips her head back until it touches the table. I push her skirt up over her hips and take in the white cotton of her panties. They’re plain, almost virginal, and a surge of possessiveness fills me. I bury my nose in the space between her legs and draw in deeply of her essence.

‘Oh, my God.’ She digs her fingers into my hair and tugs. The pinpricks of sensation travel down my spine, and I almost come. I have to stop and command myself to get control. I’m going to pleasure this woman. I’m going to take care of this goddess. I’m going to make sure this gorgeous creature has the kind of experience where she sees heaven.

‘Tyler,’ she moans, and my name from her lips is a different kind of torture. Every part of me insists she belongs to me. That primal part of me surges to the fore. I ease her panties down her thighs, then lick up the seam of her pussy. She shudders. I swipe my tongue up her pussy lips, and she quivers. I stab my tongue inside her slit, and her entire body jolts.

‘Tyler,’ she groans my name again, and it’s like a clarion call.

I begin to eat her out in earnest—licking, sucking, circling the nub of her clit with my tongue, then using my fingers to play with her pussy. She whimpers and whines, and tries to pull away, but I don’t let her. With one hand on her hip, I hold her in place and continue to urge her up the peak toward her climax.

Sweat breaks out on my brow and more trickles down my spine, but I don’t let up. I glance up to find her eyes shut. Her chest rises and falls. A flush colors her cheekbones. She’s let go of my hair and now her fingers grip the edge of the table. The skin across her knuckles stretches tight. I lick into her weeping slit, and when I finally close my teeth around that swollen bud between her lower lips and tug, she explodes.

A long, low cry is drawn from her. Her back curves. She squeezes her thighs around my face and comes. Her climax goes on and on. Watching the most beautiful woman in the world come is the most incredible sight I have ever seen. I continue to lick the moisture that trickles from her. And when she finally slumps, I rise up, plant my hands on either side of her, and close my mouth over hers.

I kiss her deeply, sliding my tongue over hers, and it’s sweet and life-affirming and turns my heart into an instrument that could shatter any moment. When I finally pull away, I survey her flushed features with satisfaction.

She raises her eyelids and looks into my eyes with a dazed expression. ‘Wow!’ She swallows. ‘That was—’ She shakes her head. ‘Don’t know if I have the words to describe it.’

I kiss her tenderly, then straighten and put her clothes to rights. I help her to her feet, twine my fingers with hers and bring her hand to my mouth. I kiss the back of her knuckles.

Her lips are swollen. Her skirt is creased. She looks like a woman who’s just had an orgasm. One I was responsible for. I did this. I made her come. She stares at me breathless, dazed. Like I shattered something in her and rebuilt it sweeter. Like she can’t quite believe what just happened. That look? I’ll be chasing it for the rest of my life.

I can’t walk away from her. Not now. There’s something between us—undeniable, electric. I’ve never felt this with anyone. Not like this. I can’t risk losing it before I even understand what it is. I don’t want distance. I want her—close, constant, mine.

I need more—of her voice, her mind, the way she looks at me like she sees past everything I pretend to be. I know how she tastes, but now I want to know the rest. Every breath, every silence, every secret. The things she’s never told anyone—I want to be the one she lets in. And to do that, I must keep her close. With me.

She opens her mouth to speak, but I place my finger over her lips. ‘Will you spend the night with me?’