The soft kiss deepened, our tongues tangling lazily. The lingering taste of him was an intoxicant, and I felt a familiar warmth begin to stir in my belly again. I wasn't done. I wanted more.
"Wife," he whispered against my lips, the word sending a fresh jolt through me.
I hummed in response, my hands tracing the hard planes of his chest.
He looked at me, a new, dangerous glint in his eyes. "I want to try something."
"What?"
Instead of answering, he showed me. With a grunt of effort, he sat up, pulling me with him. Before I could process the movement, he was lying back on the couch, and he had flipped me, positioning me on top of him.
I straddled his hips, my knees on either side of his body. I could feel him, hot and already hard again, pressing against my most intimate place.
"I want you to ride me," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was a command, not a request. His hands rested on my hips, his grip firm. "Now."
