She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she grabs my shirt and forcefully pulls it over my head.
“I had this fantasy, one of my favorites, of you sneaking in my window while I was sleeping. You crawled into my bed and started kissing me all over my body. It drove me crazy thinking about it.”
She trembles, as if the memory of her fantasies is intensely pleasurable. My own body heats to epic proportions.
“You actually almost caught me one time,” she remarks, shocking the hell out of me.
“When?”
“Remember the night you came through my window, and I was out of breath. You remarked on my face being so red. I believe my excuse was I had a bad dream.”
I remember the time vividly because I crawled into bed with her and held her for a long time, trying to offer her comfort because of her dream. I had to keep a couple of inches between our waists because I was hard as a rock. She only had on a pair of panties and a sleep shirt. It was pure fucking torture.
“Yeah, I remember.”
She smiles smugly. “It wasn’t a nightmare that woke me up. It was a dream about you. I woke with my hand in my panties. Had you put your hand down there, you would have found the material soaked.”
The noise that leaves my throat is a mixture between a hiss and a moan. My dick aches behind the zipper of my jeans. To show Molly what her words are doing to me, I settle my hips between her legs and grind my hardness against her.
“You like torturing me, don’t you?” I growl.
She giggles, but it quickly ends on a moan when I press against her sweet spot. “Maybe a little,” she moans, her eyelids only half open.
“You’ve been doing it over half my life. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”
I skate one hand down to the hem of her shirt and tug it up, slowly revealing her trim stomach and grayish stretch marks. Much to Molly’s chagrin, I love looking at her stretch marks. It’s a testament to the two beautiful lives we created together.
Her shirt gets pulled off and tossed to the side.
“The neighbors,” she pants.
“Are too far away to see anything. I want to make love to my wife under the stars.”
She graces me with one of my favorite smiles.
Sitting back on my heels, I peel her shorts and panties down her legs before working on my own pants and boxer briefs. Once we’re naked, I lie on my back, not wanting her to get grass burns.
“Ride me, Molly.”
She gets to her knees and slings one leg over my hips. The moment her warm pussy meets my shaft, I hiss out a breath. Gripping the base of my cock, she lines the tip up with her opening and begins to slowly slide down.
I palm her boobs and tweak the tips. She arches, forcing more of my cock inside her. The pleasure is damn near unbearable.
“You feel so goddamn good, baby. I could stay just like this for days.”
“Oh, Lincoln. So could I.” She bites her lip, gazing down at me with lust-filled eyes. “My nipples. I need your lips around them.”
Never one to deny my wife anything, I sit up and latch my teeth around one bud. She cries out quietly, and for a moment, I wish we were in the house so she could be as loud as she wanted to be and not worry about the neighbors hearing.
I pop one nipple out of my mouth, only to switch to the next one. Her walls clamp around my dick, and a groan rumbles from my throat.
Releasing her nipple, I lean back so I can watch Molly ride me. The view of her wet pussy sliding up and down over my shaft nearly has me losing it. She swivels and gyrates her hips, picking up speed. I know she’s close from the flushed look on her face and the way her eyes glimmer. Gripping her waist, I help her along.
“Fuck me good, Molly,” I groan. “I wanna feel your walls strangling me.”
“Right there,” she cries, her knees digging into my sides.
I thrust up, hitting that perfect spot that I know will set her off. Seconds later, she spasms around me and her movements become frenzied. I ride the wave of her orgasm and chase mine over the edge a moment later.
She leans forward, plastering her chest against mine, and our hearts beat to the same rhythm. I push the weight of her hair off her back, letting the cool night air brush against her heated skin.
Out the corner of my eye, I spot a streak of light flash across the sky. Closing my eyes, I make a wish.
Please don’t take this woman from me.
Chapter Eighteen
LINCOLN
With my head in my hand and one finger twirling a lock of her gorgeous, red hair, I stare down at the woman who has enraptured my attention since I was eight years old. To this day, and I know will remain the same until the day that I die, I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman.
Letting go of her hair, I lightly trail my finger over the freckles peppering her nose and cheeks. Molly sighs, a tiny smile curving her lips that has my own lips tipping up.
Over the years, I’ve found myself quite a few times watching Molly sleep, but never so much as I have been lately. I’ve been trying to soak up every chance I get to look at her because soon I’ll only have my memories and pictures.
Her eyes flicker beneath their lids, and her tongue peeks out to lick the corner of her mouth. The act sends a shot of lust through me. She turns toward me, and her eyes flutter open. When she finds me looking at her, her smile grows bigger.
“Morning,” she says sleepily.
“Good morning.” I lean down for a kiss. We’re way past that point in our marriage where we care about morning breath. “How’s my girl feeling this morning?”
She stretches adorably. “Pretty good, actually.”
“You sure you’re up to taking the kids to the fair later?”
“Absolutely.” She sits up and scoots back until she’s resting against the headboard. “They look forward to this each year. No way will I be the reason they don’t go this year.”
There’s a pinch of bitterness in her tone, and it makes my heart feel heavy. Rather than letting either of us dwell on our situation, I decide to change the subject.
“Cotton candy, candied apple, or funnel cake?”
She laughs, exactly what I was aiming for. Molly is addicted to carnival food, so any time the fair is in town, a food truck is where she heads first. I pointed out once that she could always make her favorites any time during the year, but she claims it’s not the same. It has to come from one of the little food trucks. Every year, I ask which food she’s going to pick first. Her answer is always different.
“Hmm….” She taps her bottom lip with her finger. “That’s a really hard choice. Maybe I’ll get all three. And a turkey leg to go with it. Oh!” Her eyes light up. “And fresh-squeezed lemonade.”
Hearing patters in the hallway, Molly and I look to the door just as Gemma comes running into the bedroom. She jumps onto the bed, her face splitting into a wide grin.
“Hey, beauty.”
Snagging an arm around her waist, I drag her to me. Her giggles fill the room when I use my beard to tickle her neck. After I release her, she crawls up the bed and sits on her knees beside Molly.
“Good morning, sweetie. Did you sleep well?” Molly asks.
Gemma bobs her head. “Yep.”