Fuck.
He set it aside and walked out to the back deck to see she’d put out placemats, cloth napkins, plates, cutlery and she’d lit little, squat candles around the base of the umbrella. Some of these were recent additions she’d bought when she was with her girls, getting it in order to make a nicer table.
And there was also the food, fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, greens and rolls.
A celebration for Julius, the best she could do with no notice and it was obviously still really f**king good.
Gives back a little of what she’s givin’ you.
Fuck.
He again put that aside and sat, Julius sat opposite and Lexie came out with three beers, announcing, “Apple pie and ice cream after dinner. It’s a frozen one but it’s a good one.” Her eyes came to Walker and she gave him a smile. “Luckily, went to the store on my way home from the salon before Julius showed.” She sat between them and her eyes went to Julius. “He works out loads but my man has got a sweet tooth. Can’t keep stocked.”
“Not big on desserts inside,” Julius told her as a joke but saw his mistake immediately when the shadow crossed Lexie’s face. Therefore he instantly muttered, “Sorry, baby doll.”
She pushed through it, declaring, “That’s why I keep stocked.”
Julius studied her a moment before he grinned.
Walker let him have her return smile before he shot his hand out, caught his wife behind the neck and pulled her to him. Her head turned as he moved her and he caught her mouth just in time. No touch, he wanted a taste and the minute he started opening his lips, she felt it, opened hers and gave him one. He touched the tip of his tongue to hers and let her go.
Her smile for him was a f**kuva a lot better.
Then he grabbed the platter of pork chops and handed it across to his brother.
* * * * *
Walker slid his hand from his wife’s hip, over her ass, down her spine to the middle of her back and pressed in. He didn’t have to press hard, she gave him what he wanted instantly, her back arched, her arms slid out in front of her, her torso pressed into the bed and her ass tipped higher toward the ceiling, allowing him deeper access.
Yeah, she offered her pu**y any way he wanted, not even a noise of protest.
Lexie was on her knees, those knees at the edge of the bed. He was on his feet beside it, powering inside her, rough, hard, nearly brutal. He hadn’t had this for two weeks, he was taking it and there she was in front of him, his wildcat, so f**king wet she was drenched, so tight, so sweet, loving every second of it.
He knew this to be true when the sweet, sexy noises she was making changed, went from pleasure to desperation. She was close, it was almost on her.
He pulled out and instantly her head flew back, her neck twisting at the same time.
“Don’t stop, baby,” she whispered, that same desperation in her tone.
He bent forward, his hand in her back slid around her ribs to the front, he pulled her up and turned her to face him, his arm around her back now going down over her ass. He lifted her up and her arms circled his shoulders, her head tipped down, her mouth finding his, her tongue sliding inside.
He put a knee to the bed, her legs circled his hips, the other knee went in and once he was in, he fell forward, taking her to her back. Then, their mouths still connected, their tongues tangled, he surged back inside.
He lost her mouth when her neck arched.
Fuck, but his wife liked his cock.
He got up on a forearm in the bed, tipped his body slightly to the side and kept thrusting deep and hard, his eyes on her, his other hand gliding up her body to wrap around the side of her neck. Her head righted and her eyes found his.
No words, he didn’t like them when he had his c**k buried deep in wet pu**y, she didn’t need them. During sex or not, her eyes spoke for her.
And he liked what they were saying.
So his fingers dug gently into her neck as he tilted his h*ps and powered back in, finding her sweet spot, giving it to her and she took it. Her back arching, her arm behind his back flexing, her legs circling his h*ps tightening, her other hand flying to his wrist at her neck and holding on tight, she gasped first, deep, audible, then came the loud moan and then the whimper.
He dropped to her, gave her his weight and grasped her hips, yanking her down on his c**k as he drove up inside her, near savage. He was heavy, he knew it, felt and heard her breath stay labored and not just with sex. But she’d give him this, she’d done it before, she’d hold her breath until she passed out, take his c**k no matter how hard he gave it to her, hold him tight like she was just then, all of this to tell him he could have what he wanted how he wanted it.
But he never did it unless he was close.
And he was close.
Then he was there, ramming so hard and deep, she cried out, he planted himself to the root and came.
The instant he could, he took away his weight but stayed rooted and covering her.
He gave it a minute before he lifted his head to look down at her. When he did, one of her arms went from around his shoulders so she could cup his cheek, her hand shifting, her thumb sliding over the scar at his eyebrow and down to the smaller one under his eye. She did this often too, ever since he’d whispered to her one night in the dark that his mother gave him that scar by throwing a glass at him when he was nine, a glass he’d left in the living room, something she didn’t like, a glass that broke on his face. A miracle it didn’t do worse damage, he’d told her. She didn’t agree. She saw no miracle at work in that scar and she touched it like she could make it go away then, when her thumb moved and it hadn’t disappeared, the specter of disappointment that she hadn’t succeeded in erasing the physical manifestation of this memory shadowed her face before she fought it back.
He watched that specter glide through and disappear.
Gives back a little of what she’s givin’ you.
She was on her back in their bed for him. No less uncomfortable that it was Julius a stairway away and not Ella, he told her he was done with bathroom sex and she objected no further. Though he promised her he’d asked Julius to make certain he closed his door, he couldn’t know if Julius had complied. She still gave it to him like he wanted it.
Gives back a little of what she’s givin’ you.
Fuck.
He should tell her about Peña, open that option to her, discuss their future and how he should play it. He knew it. Lying on top of her, still inside her, her hand still at his face, her eyes sweet on him through the moonlight, he knew it.
But he wasn’t going to.
He set it aside and walked out to the back deck to see she’d put out placemats, cloth napkins, plates, cutlery and she’d lit little, squat candles around the base of the umbrella. Some of these were recent additions she’d bought when she was with her girls, getting it in order to make a nicer table.
And there was also the food, fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, greens and rolls.
A celebration for Julius, the best she could do with no notice and it was obviously still really f**king good.
Gives back a little of what she’s givin’ you.
Fuck.
He again put that aside and sat, Julius sat opposite and Lexie came out with three beers, announcing, “Apple pie and ice cream after dinner. It’s a frozen one but it’s a good one.” Her eyes came to Walker and she gave him a smile. “Luckily, went to the store on my way home from the salon before Julius showed.” She sat between them and her eyes went to Julius. “He works out loads but my man has got a sweet tooth. Can’t keep stocked.”
“Not big on desserts inside,” Julius told her as a joke but saw his mistake immediately when the shadow crossed Lexie’s face. Therefore he instantly muttered, “Sorry, baby doll.”
She pushed through it, declaring, “That’s why I keep stocked.”
Julius studied her a moment before he grinned.
Walker let him have her return smile before he shot his hand out, caught his wife behind the neck and pulled her to him. Her head turned as he moved her and he caught her mouth just in time. No touch, he wanted a taste and the minute he started opening his lips, she felt it, opened hers and gave him one. He touched the tip of his tongue to hers and let her go.
Her smile for him was a f**kuva a lot better.
Then he grabbed the platter of pork chops and handed it across to his brother.
* * * * *
Walker slid his hand from his wife’s hip, over her ass, down her spine to the middle of her back and pressed in. He didn’t have to press hard, she gave him what he wanted instantly, her back arched, her arms slid out in front of her, her torso pressed into the bed and her ass tipped higher toward the ceiling, allowing him deeper access.
Yeah, she offered her pu**y any way he wanted, not even a noise of protest.
Lexie was on her knees, those knees at the edge of the bed. He was on his feet beside it, powering inside her, rough, hard, nearly brutal. He hadn’t had this for two weeks, he was taking it and there she was in front of him, his wildcat, so f**king wet she was drenched, so tight, so sweet, loving every second of it.
He knew this to be true when the sweet, sexy noises she was making changed, went from pleasure to desperation. She was close, it was almost on her.
He pulled out and instantly her head flew back, her neck twisting at the same time.
“Don’t stop, baby,” she whispered, that same desperation in her tone.
He bent forward, his hand in her back slid around her ribs to the front, he pulled her up and turned her to face him, his arm around her back now going down over her ass. He lifted her up and her arms circled his shoulders, her head tipped down, her mouth finding his, her tongue sliding inside.
He put a knee to the bed, her legs circled his hips, the other knee went in and once he was in, he fell forward, taking her to her back. Then, their mouths still connected, their tongues tangled, he surged back inside.
He lost her mouth when her neck arched.
Fuck, but his wife liked his cock.
He got up on a forearm in the bed, tipped his body slightly to the side and kept thrusting deep and hard, his eyes on her, his other hand gliding up her body to wrap around the side of her neck. Her head righted and her eyes found his.
No words, he didn’t like them when he had his c**k buried deep in wet pu**y, she didn’t need them. During sex or not, her eyes spoke for her.
And he liked what they were saying.
So his fingers dug gently into her neck as he tilted his h*ps and powered back in, finding her sweet spot, giving it to her and she took it. Her back arching, her arm behind his back flexing, her legs circling his h*ps tightening, her other hand flying to his wrist at her neck and holding on tight, she gasped first, deep, audible, then came the loud moan and then the whimper.
He dropped to her, gave her his weight and grasped her hips, yanking her down on his c**k as he drove up inside her, near savage. He was heavy, he knew it, felt and heard her breath stay labored and not just with sex. But she’d give him this, she’d done it before, she’d hold her breath until she passed out, take his c**k no matter how hard he gave it to her, hold him tight like she was just then, all of this to tell him he could have what he wanted how he wanted it.
But he never did it unless he was close.
And he was close.
Then he was there, ramming so hard and deep, she cried out, he planted himself to the root and came.
The instant he could, he took away his weight but stayed rooted and covering her.
He gave it a minute before he lifted his head to look down at her. When he did, one of her arms went from around his shoulders so she could cup his cheek, her hand shifting, her thumb sliding over the scar at his eyebrow and down to the smaller one under his eye. She did this often too, ever since he’d whispered to her one night in the dark that his mother gave him that scar by throwing a glass at him when he was nine, a glass he’d left in the living room, something she didn’t like, a glass that broke on his face. A miracle it didn’t do worse damage, he’d told her. She didn’t agree. She saw no miracle at work in that scar and she touched it like she could make it go away then, when her thumb moved and it hadn’t disappeared, the specter of disappointment that she hadn’t succeeded in erasing the physical manifestation of this memory shadowed her face before she fought it back.
He watched that specter glide through and disappear.
Gives back a little of what she’s givin’ you.
She was on her back in their bed for him. No less uncomfortable that it was Julius a stairway away and not Ella, he told her he was done with bathroom sex and she objected no further. Though he promised her he’d asked Julius to make certain he closed his door, he couldn’t know if Julius had complied. She still gave it to him like he wanted it.
Gives back a little of what she’s givin’ you.
Fuck.
He should tell her about Peña, open that option to her, discuss their future and how he should play it. He knew it. Lying on top of her, still inside her, her hand still at his face, her eyes sweet on him through the moonlight, he knew it.
But he wasn’t going to.
