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My Girl Tastes Sweet Like Honey
Oh, she was my favorite treat of all.
After our third time rolling across the sheets, Allison says, “No more. I surrender. You’re obviously some kind of monster with that stamina of yours.”
I smile against her cheek. “Then what about you? If I recall correctly, you’ve been meeting me stroke for stroke.”
“I wasn’t complaining,” she said, though there’s something she’s not telling me from the way her eyes avoid mine. I bring a kiss to her hand, and she sighs as if that touch alone inspires something other than happiness within her.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, though I can probe at her thoughts at any moment and find out. But what kind of man would I be if I breached my wife’s trust in such a way? No, I prefer when she tells me in her own words what her truth is. “Was it bad? Were you faking all night?”
But she snorts out a laugh. “Did all of it sound fake? God, Nathan, get a clue.”
“Don’t make me punish you,” I say lightly, running circles across her bare stomach. I look past her to the clock, which reads 5 AM. “I must say I’m sorry I kept you up as long as I did. You need your sleep.”
“Sleep? When I have you for the night? Never.”
