Perfect Together by Kristen Ashley

“Play,” she whispered.

“Play,” he agreed.

“Oh my God, Noel was right.”

“Sorry?”

“He told me I needed to pounce on you.”

This meant she told Noel about him.

Remy was not ticked about that. She told Noel everything.

Therefore, he didn’t get into that.

He confirmed, “Yeah, he was right.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Do you want me to pounce on you, um…now?”

“No.”

“No?”

He took the five strides separating them and held her face by her jaw.

“No,” he repeated.

Then he dipped his head and kissed her.

God.

Yes.

Wyn.

It had been too long, and they were them, so it went from a touch on the lips to serious tongue, to her tearing at his shirt in maybe twenty seconds.

He pulled away to yank it off, but he didn’t when she asked, “Is your bedroom really sunken?”

Remy didn’t answer.

He didn’t make a mental note to finally give her a full tour of his house either.

He grabbed her hand and dragged her to his bedroom.

Down two steps, whirling her in front of him, backing her to the bed, then taking her to it by falling into and onto her.

That was far as he got with “pouncing.”

Wyn took over with mouth and hands and nails, eventually rolling him to his back.

This could be about her giving him what he needed in a sensitive, emotional time.

If it was, he could not give fewer fucks.

His wife was right there with her lush body, mass of hair, gorgeous face, talented mouth and hands, and the sting of her nails.

So he took it.

But when she was getting them both naked and was down to her bra and pulling off her jeans, he lent a hand and yanked off his own.

She then moved to climb on his hard cock.

That was when Remy took over, grabbed her hips and pulled her to a different location.

His wife on his tongue for the first time in years, he ground her down on his face.

She helped, rocking against him, her low noises pulsing through his dick.

No matter what, no matter when, from the first time to the last before this when they went at each other in the foyer of their house, she was like this.

She never covered herself to hide her nudity.

She never stole glances to make sure he liked what she was doing.

She was completely into it.

Him.

His.

Everything she did, he got off on.

Everything he did, made her soar.

Not once had it been awkward and hesitant, done by habit, going through the motions.

They’d always been as they were right now.

He could live on the taste of her, the feel of her pussy.

And she could ride his face or take his cock until she stopped breathing.

“Baby, baby,” she whispered urgently. “You.”

She was almost there.

He pulled her off, tossing her to her back, and rolled onto her.

Her hair all over his bed…

Fuck.

Fuck.

He was feeling less emotionally bruised and sensitive by the second.

Holding his eyes, even if hers were dazed, she opened her legs and hooked them around his thighs.

Not breaking their gaze, he took his cock in hand and guided it to her.

“Hurry,” she breathed.

He slid home.

When she closed around him, that was when he closed his eyes.

Wyn glided both her hands up his back and into his hair, and Remy tracked every centimeter and committed it to memory.

He opened his eyes.

“Missed you, Remy,” she whispered.

He felt the sting, the wet hit his eyes, but he didn’t kiss her to hide it.

He moved inside her, she moved with him. Their breath started coming faster, together. Their movements started to get more urgent, together. They held each other’s gazes throughout, and he would have liked for them to come together, but he’d eaten her, so she was closer and got there before him.

It was not a sacrifice, he got to watch.

Then he was able to give her the same.

When he came down, that was when he kissed her again.

And he did not pull out when he shifted to nuzzling her neck. He was going to stay inside as long as his cock remained hard enough to keep him there.

He smelled her perfume.

Van Cleef & Arpels Bois D’Iris.

It was in his nose and would be all over his sheets.

He had his Wyn back.

“It’s a lot to ask, but I don’t want you sleeping anywhere else but beside me until we figure this all out and get married again.”

“Are we getting married again?” she asked while drawing patterns on the skin of his back.

He heard the lilt of her teasing, but he still lifted his head and made plain how unfunny he thought that was.

She didn’t care.

“I like the idea of living in sin.”

“We’re getting remarried. It’s going to be ridiculously lavish, everything you ever wanted, completely obnoxious, and you’re putting your old rings back on your finger, but I’m getting you an eternity band to add to it. That Harry Winston one you saw in New York that last time we were there and tried not to let me see you liked it. The emerald cut one.”

“Wow.”

He’d had Lisa check the price when they got back home.