One Night Standards
: Chapter 5

Every emotion conceivable flickers like lightning in her bottomless blue eyes as she delicately fingers the ink on my chest.

Her touch is a warm shot of brandy, heating my blood and muddling my thoughts.

I hate myself for waiting so long—for letting her reach a point where she ever doubted my devotion to her.

“You’re it for me, Li’l Bit.” My whispered words earn me the faintest hint of a smile. I brush a thumb over the dimple on her right cheek, as my throat heaves with the force of a hard swallow. “I gave you every piece of my heart under that dock all those years ago.”

“Sometimes,” she whispers, so low it’s almost inaudible, “I wondered if I imagined the whole thing.”

“It was real,” I say, as sure of my feelings for her as ever. “Still is.”

“Then make love to me.” Emotion pools in her too-trusting gaze. Her vulnerability hangs in the balance like a twig ready to snap at the slightest breeze. “I need more than words, Lyle. Something tangible.” Desperation clogs her throat. “I need to feel it…please.”

My heart hammers as indecision renders me mute. I’m torn between the primal urge to devour this siren inch by tantalizing inch and wanting to savor every first with the woman who will, from this day forward, be my only.

Today has been a whirlwind, to say the least. For myself, but more so for her.

There’s nothing I want more than to accept all that she’s offering, but my respect for her runs far too deep to act on impulse alone.

The fact is that I’ve done nothing to warrant access to her body—to this treasured temple that’s worthy of my utmost care and respect… I placed her on a pedestal when we were barely more than children. She‘s always been this end game it felt like I might never reach. But I was prepared to put in the work. I might’ve set her free and remained in the shadows for a while, but I always had every intention of returning, And pulling out all the stops when I did.

This—this was too easy.

For years I’ve barely been present in her life. And just because I stepped in and married her in a moment of sheer desperation, when she’d probably have said yes to the fucking milkman, doesn’t give me the right to take what I haven’t earned.

Liquid fire surges right to my dick as my eyes snake over her impeccable form. Despite my noblest intentions, this woman is hellbent on testing every ounce of my restraint, which is already flimsy, at best. “Sammi, I—we…”

“Shhh,” she says, cutting me off with a brief finger press to my lips. She takes a step back before making a show of slipping her fingers beneath the thin strips of elastic holding up the lace barely concealing her pussy. Every bit the seductress, she slinks out of them, one slender, heel-clad foot at a time.

My resolve is a fraying thread. That last move of hers just might be the one to snap it. “Jesus, Sam.” She’s my every wet dream brought to life.

“Please.” The yearning reflected in that lone word is impossible to deny.

I stalk toward her, eating up the distance between us. “I’ve done nothing to deserve you,” I say, trailing a hand from her temple to her chin.

There’s a nagging ache in my chest. I’m plagued with guilt over the fact that this is how our union’s come about.

My Li’l Bit didn’t get the romantic proposal she deserved. We have literally no dating history—just stolen moments, hidden away, like some dirty secret.

Our goddamned wedding was intended for her and another man. And changing the location doesn’t eradicate the fact that her wedding night—tonight—was also meant for him.

How can I, in good conscience, indulge myself in her body—this woman who deserves the world—knowing I put forth no effort whatsoever? Just stepped in and filled the fucking shoes of some other schmuck.

“No,” she rasps, smoothing her hands over my chest. “Don’t do thi—”

Sammi always was too good at reading me.

Refusing to humiliate her further by making her beg, I silence her with a kiss. One that starts out slow and tender but quickly catches fire. One second, we’re exploring new territory with delicate caresses, and the next, our basest instincts vanquish any semblance of control we might’ve still possessed. She’s ripping at my pants, and my hands are gripped to her ass, our labored breaths mimicking the erratic thrashing of our hearts.

It’s uninhibited.

Complete chaos.

And quite possibly the most freeing experience of our lives.

“Yes,” she moans, her long nails scoring my back as I lift her to sit on the edge of the bed.

Wheezing for air, I step between her parted legs, staring down at my wife in silent reverie, committing every dip and curve to memory.

The age-old question begs, what do you do when you finally have everything you’ve ever wanted? But the answer eludes me. Because with this little breather comes a hint of clarity, and with it my doubts come creeping back in.

“How are your pants still up?” Sammi groans, clearly not suffering from the same dilemma as she tosses her head back in exasperation. “Show me the goods, Livingston.”

“Don’t you have the internet?” I ask, hinting at a photo a one-night stand somehow managed to leak to the paps last year. “Thought the whole world had seen it by now.”

“That was…real?” She gapes at me, slack-jawed. Her greedy eyes drop to my crotch briefly before she visibly catches herself and jerks them back to mine.

She looks like a kid who’s just been handed the keys to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, and I am barely holding back a guffaw. I have to admit it was quite a flattering angle. I wasn’t even mad about it.

Anika, however, was ready to bury me alive.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I taunt.

“Uh…” she drawls. “Yeah.” Sammi whips a hand to the space between us, giving her fingers a few solid snaps. “Let’s see it. I showed you mine, now show me yours.”

“Where’s your patience, Li’l Bit?”

“Died out about midway through your vows,” she clips. “Stop thinking so much.” Palms pressed to the mattress; she leans back, crossing her ankles. She’s an absolute vision, reclined on my bed, her long curls framing her breasts. “We don’t have to fight it anymore.”

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I grunt. “And too damn sexy for my own good.” I scrub a hand over my face, huffing out a heady breath. “You’ll be the death of me, Jailbait.”

“I just might if you don’t do something about this ache between my legs.”

I lock eyes with hers while leisurely trailing a finger between her breasts and down her stomach, before dragging it along her slit to test her wetness.

Her perky tits rise and fall with her sharp intake of breath.

“Ah, you’re soaked for me.” My groin pulls tight, pressure mounting, as I continue fighting against the tide.

She bites down on her lower lip and nods.

Desperate for a taste, I bring the finger coated in her arousal to my mouth and suck the sweet nectar off.

Eyes wide, her cheeks flush the most delectable shade of red. “That was…”

“Delicious,” I provide when her head lolls back, then grin. She’s lost to any and all rational thought now.

I return my hand to her cunt, this time inserting two fingers and swirling the pad of my thumb over her clit.

“Fuck,” she moans, her walls tightening as I pump the digits in and out with deliberate slowness. “I—I was gonnnnna say…”

“You were gonna say?” I inquire, helping her with her train of thought while sinking to my knees, her loyal subject, ready to worship at her throne.

“Hot.”

“Sorry…” I grip her inner thighs, spreading her lips with my thumbs before burying my face between her legs. “What was that?”

I swipe my tongue along her opening, damn near busting a nut at the taste of her. “Couldn’t hear you with my mouth full,” I garble, flitting the tip lightly back and forth over her clit.

Her scent is an instant shot of dopamine, hardening my cock and heating my blood.

Her hips jerk up from the bed and she pushes into me. “H—h—hot!” she squeals. “Sssso fucking hot.”

“That’s it, sweet girl, ride my face.” I can hardly breathe but can’t think of a better way to go than drowning in her essence, her sweet scent engulfing me, and the sounds of her falling apart resounding in my ears.

“Lyle… I—ohhhh!”

I glance up briefly to draw a breath to replace her hands gripping her breasts so hard they’re gaping between her fingers.

“Fuck yeah, Jailbait,” I growl, urging her on. “Tweak those pretty pink nipples.” My voice is pure grit, and my cock swells to full mast, threatening to pop the stitches on these dress pants as I drink my fill. “Just like that,” I encourage when she pinches and tugs, grinding her ass into the mattress as she draws closer to release. “Give me your hand.”

Without hesitation she reaches toward me, and I take her first two fingers and run them along her slit, soaking them in her desire. “Now…” I say, “touch ’em again.” My throat thickens. “Roll ’em around in that liquid gold.”

Her indecision hangs in the air, her hand playing a game of limbo…torn between humility and ecstasy. She’ll soon learn her pleasure will never take a backseat in our bedroom.

“Don’t get shy now, wife,” I urge when embarrassment stalls her vigor. “Never hold back with me,” I growl. “Do whatever feels good. The greatest compliment I could ever receive is your complete surrender.”

My words reignite her fervor and the urge to take my own advice and shuck these pants off—to slide my cock into her warmth and feel her contracting around my dick the way she’s squeezing my fingers—is nearly impossible to ignore.

Sweat beads on my brow as I pick up the pace, thrusting harder and faster to match the tempo she’s set.

A feral growl rips from my throat when her hands fist into my hair. I pull her swollen clit into my mouth, sucking it soft and slow, building in both speed and pressure with every thrust of her hips.

Using my hair for leverage, her body folds in half as the force of her mounting climax has her writhing out of control.

Gripping her hips, I tug until her ass is hanging off the edge of the bed, alternating between lapping at her pussy and nibbling on her swollen bundle of nerves.

“Oh—ohhh! Oh Lyle, yes!” Her quivering legs press in on my head, squeezing it in a vise grip.

A string of nonsensical gibberish signals her imminent release, spurring me on.

“Give it to me,” I growl before biting down on her clit.

Her grip on my hair tightens just as a scream pierces the night. Seizing, she rides out every last tremor, unabashedly grinding her sweet cunt into my face.

In a state of pure ecstasy, I drink every last drop of her release, gobbling her up like the fucking delicacy she is.

Spent, and gasping for breath, I fall back on my haunches, heart pounding like I’ve just run a marathon. I’m wet with sweat and painfully aroused.

Her grip relaxes, her fingers lazily combing my scalp as she works through the last waves of her climax.

Only when the shudders come to a complete halt do I rise to my feet.

Gripping her head in both hands, I give it a tilt, until her gaze is even with mine.

“Still can’t believe you’re finally mine,” I say, my heart swelling as I take in every inch of her sated body: The red splotches on her cheeks and chest, her hair wild and mussed. Her nipples still fully erect and beckoning me like a siren’s song. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

Her eyes shimmer as she stares up at me with indisputable love.

How I’ve managed so long without her, I’ll never understand. Because now that I’ve had just the smallest taste, there’s no chance in hell I’d be able to do it again.

“I feel like I should thank you,” she says through a blissed-out smile.

“Not necessary.” I flatten my palms to the mattress and lean in slowly. “But I’ll take a kiss.”

To my surprise, she jerks back, her lip curled in disgust. “But you ju—“

“Just devoured your pussy?” I rasp, crowding her space until she’s flat on her back and I’m hovering over her.

Sammi’s fiery blue eyes widen. “I mean…yeah.”

“You weren’t complaining.” I quirk a brow.

She scoffs. “Definitely not.”

I nod, clearing my throat. “And now it’s a problem because?”

The apples of her cheeks flush crimson. “I can still smell myself on your lips.”

I pucker my mouth and scent the air, and my pulse instantly takes flight. “Does it turn you on, Jailbait?” I ask, swallowing hard to tamp down my own rampant desire. “Cuz I’ve never been so turned on in my life.”

She nods, slowly, and I move in further until we’re a breath apart.

“Are you truly opposed to tasting yourself on your husband’s lips?” I bring my knuckles to the side of her neck, to stroke her jaw, unable to miss the way her pulse is thrumming out of control. “Or are you embarrassed”—my teeth clamp down briefly on my lower lip—“because you want it?”

She squirms beneath me while my hand makes the brief journey from her chin to rest on her heaving breasts. “Tell me if I’m mistaken, but fuck, baby…” I bite back the urge to moan. “This feels like desire.”

“I—” Her eyes flutter to half-mast, her lips twitching with their eagerness to be kissed.

“You what?” I press. “There’s no wrong answer, sweet girl… but I do need an answer.”

“Lyle,” she whines, afraid to give voice to what we both know she’s after.

“There’s no room for shame,” I rasp. “Not here…not between us.” I grip the sides of her neck, dragging the pads of my thumbs down the column of her throat. “Say it…”

“I want you to kiss me,” she stammers, reaching up with both hands to cup my face. “I want…” She blinks hard, shaking her head to herself as if she can’t believe what she’s about to say. “I want to taste myself on your lips.”

My dick does a victory punch against my zipper at her salacious request. With a savage groan, I descend on her, our lips melding in a frenzied inferno. I bury a fist in her silky locks, guiding her movements as I plunge my tongue in and out. The scent of her sweet pussy is like kerosene, adding fuel to the fiery passion blazing between us. “See how fucking good you taste,” I groan into her kiss, rolling over, until she’s straddling my waist.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, meeting my tongue thrust for thrust while grinding down on my erection.

Our current position is doing nothing to help my diminishing restraint.

“Sammi,” I rasp, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before dredging up the strength to pull away. It goes against my every urge when I shift her nude body to lay beside me.

“What’s wrong?” The flash of hurt that sparks in her eyes is a line drive straight to my gut. I feel like the worst kind of asshole as she studies me, her brow pinched with confusion over my drastic one-eighty. “It’s your turn.”

I’ve got nothing. What the hell am I going to say to that? No thanks? Not likely. I need a way out that won’t break her heart, and I’m drawing a complete blank.

Thankfully she doesn’t waste any time waiting on my reply before swirling a finger around my nipple. “We’ve tasted me…” She huffs out a timid laugh. “Whaddaya say we taste you now?”

Yup. That’ll do it.

I take my escape, bolting out of that bed like my ass is on fire. “It’s a no from me, dawg,” I say, imitating the infamous Randy Jackson, which is a nod to our weekly American Idol nights growing up.

“Ask yourself, dear husband…” She taps a wicked finger against her lips, slow and calculated. “Are you really opposed to tasting yourself on your wife’s lips, or just—”

“Yes!” I say, cutting her off as she tries slinging my earlier words back at me. “I am absolutely one hundred percent, without a shadow of a doubt, opposed to sampling my own jizz from your lips or otherwise.”

She snorts. “Good. Cuz that actually wouldn’t be sexy at all.”

Just the thought has me gagging. “There’s not much I’ll say no to, but that’s a hard line, Li’l Bit.”

“I was just fuckin’ with ya,” she says with a shit grin. “You got real tense all of a sudden…thought I might lighten the mood.” She pats the mattress beside her. “Come back so I can sample your special sauce.” The waggle of her brows is exaggerated for effect.

Her sense of humor is so perfectly matched to mine, it’s uncanny. This situation could have gone downhill fast. With most women that likely would be the case. But given the choice between falling apart and flipping the script, my girl will choose laughter ninety times out of a hundred.

“Hold that thought, beautiful,” I say, blowing a kiss to where she’s still splayed across the bed as I begin working my way across the room with backward steps.

“Lyle?” She sits straight up, her just-fucked hair a veritable rat’s nest framing her face.

“Need the bathroom,” I lie, offering her a placating smile. “Make yourself comfortable, Li’l Bit. I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she says, grabbing the rumpled sheet from the foot of the bed and tucking it under her chin before flopping to her back.

With her mollified, I slip into the bathroom and slump against the door, pulling in a few deep breaths in a feeble attempt to calm my racing heart. I tap the base of my palm to my head, trying to clear the haze that’s clouding my thoughts.

This sudden case of integrity I seem to have developed is extremely inconvenient.

My dick, for one, is not a fan.

I dabble with the idea of getting myself off. With the visual of Sammi coming apart on my tongue so fresh in my mind and her distinct flavor lingering on my taste buds—it wouldn’t take much. A few solid strokes.

But while that might make it easier for me not to lose control and take her in the heat of the moment, I can’t go out there with a limp dick, unable to perform. Sammi would see it as an insult. Who wouldn’t?

Despite how desperately I want her, my conscience keeps rearing its moral head. Reminding me that Sammi isn’t just some girl. She’s the one. A rare and precious jewel. She’s, my diamond. And diamonds are forever.

So, here I am, at an impasse…hiding from my bride in the fucking bathroom.

Get it together, man.

It’s just a freaking blowjob… I could still make the first time we go all the way extra special. Hell, anything would be more meaningful than me filling in for that douche she almost married. I can’t do it.

That’s fair. And a compromise I think I can live with.

I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror, running a hand through my hair just to have the strands land right back where they started.

Time to quit stalling.

Feeling a bit more confident after the internal pep talk, I crack the door and peer my head around to take stock of the situation.

The moon shines like a spotlight, blanketing my bride in an ethereal glow. She’s curled toward the windows in the fetal position.

With easy steps, I cross the room. It isn’t until I hear the soft purring coming from the lump beneath my sheets that I’m sure she’s fallen asleep. I’ve been granted a reprieve.

I could turn tail and haul it right back to that bathroom to deal with this persistent bulge—especially now that I know she’d be none the wiser. But it wouldn’t be worth missing another second spent beside her.

I lower my zipper, finally comfortable with losing the extra barrier. Though I usually prefer to sleep in the buff in the privacy of my home, I’m not that confident in my own restraint, so the boxer briefs stay.

Taking extra care not to wake her, I climb in from the foot of the bed and slip beneath the sheet, molding my chest to her back.

I bring my nose to her temple, inhaling the nostalgic scent of her favorite lavender shampoo. It’s a subtle reminder that despite all that might’ve changed over the years about the woman I love, much remains the same. So, I’ll draw comfort in the familiar while opening myself up to learning what makes her tick these days. Her likes and dislikes. Her hopes and dreams.

She stirs when my warm exhale meets her skin.

“Lyle,” she murmurs, reaching a hand over her shoulder to my cheek.

I press my lips to her temple and snuggle in closer. “Sweet dreams, Jailbait.”

“You’re very good at giving orgasms,” she muses, scratching the scruff on my chin before threading her fingers through mine and bringing our hands to rest on her stomach.

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Sorry I fell asleep.” Her grip tightens, and she buries a yawn into the pillow.

“Don’t be.” I slip my hand out of her hold and flatten it over her tiny baby bump. “It was a long day, and you’re growing a human.”

“Rain check?”

“I’ll accept that, but there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives to indulge ourselves. Tonight, I’m more than happy to just cuddle my wife.”