A Wildly Seductive Night(14)

By: Lauren Blakely


Other days, he simply relished the here and now of the little moments. To enjoy the city. To delight in his family. To appreciate the fairy tale that his life had become.

One that showed no signs of ending, especially not with his anniversary in another few days.

“What do you say we do some shopping for your mom?”

“For you and mommy’s anniversary?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you going to get her a pony?”

Clay laughed and shook his head. “I’m thinking more like a necklace. Some jewelry. Maybe tickets to a show she’s been dying to see, then dinner at her favorite restaurant,” he said, rattling off some of the gifts he was considering for his lovely Julia.

“Do I get to go out with you and Mommy on your anniversary?”

He draped his hand on her little shoulder. “’Fraid not, honey bear. Uncle Brent and Aunt Shannon are coming to town with your cousins so you’ll be hanging out with them.”

“At a hotel?” Her eyes went wide.

Clay nodded. His brother and sister-in-law had planned a family trip to New York with their kids and were staying at the Plaza in a big suite. Carly would join them for the night of Clay’s anniversary.

His daughter clapped and smiled. “I love hotels.”

“You got that from me,” he said, and he shouldered their skate bag, heading to their favorite sushi restaurant on the East Side, where they met Julia for an early dinner.

She updated him on her afternoon, listened to tales of their roller-skating adventures, then suggested they all go see the latest animated flick at a nearby theater.

“Yes, yes, yes, I want to go,” Carly chimed in, and once inside the movie house, she promptly fell asleep in the back row.

No one was behind them, and no one else was next to them, so Clay shrugged, winked, and ran his hand through Julia’s hair, then pulled her in for a soft, sweet kiss.

It didn’t stay soft for long.

No, he didn’t get it on with her at a cinema. But they most certainly made out in the back row for more than a few scenes. And later that night, once Carly was in bed, they did a hell of a lot more.





11





Julia used to wonder who those people were. The ones you hear about in Facebook groups or surveys. The ones who skew the studies on frequency of sex to the point where others whisper skeptically, no way are the Smiths doing it every night.

Now she knew.

She was one of the lucky ones. The outlier. The end of the bell curve. The exception.

She didn’t know what it was like to go to bed without touching her man. That would be like going to sleep with unbrushed teeth, or leaving the house each morning without a shower.

Sex with Clay was part of the routine, though by no means was it routine. It was anything but. It was nightly, it was daily, it was regular, it was necessary, and it was heavenly. Sure, they sought ways to keep their sex life fresh and exciting, like their “stranger sex on the boat” role-play, and other naughty encounters in public places. Other times, they tried new toys, new surfaces, new ways to tie her up, since she’d always been thrilled at being restrained by him, whether with a tie, a belt, a scarf, or his hands. Every now and then, he teased her in forbidden ways, his tongue or finger exploring her in delightfully dirty places on her body, giving her new reasons to say Oh god, that’s so good. More often than not lately, she fantasized about exploring further in that direction, but that night she wanted something straightforward.

Sometimes simple was the best, and sometimes it was all you really needed, anyway.

Lying on her side, she slid a hand beneath the sheets, danced her fingers down the firm planes of Clay’s chest, over the grooves in his abs, and to the trail of hair that led to the happiest place.

His breath hitched, and he shifted from his back to his side, as if his body sought hers. Facing him now, she pressed her lips to his mouth, dusting a soft kiss as her hand traveled lower still, until she found the bounty—his growing erection.

He groaned his appreciation as she wrapped her hand around his thick cock. Stroking him, she marveled at the feel of the velvet-smooth skin that covered the steel length of him. She didn’t comprehend not wanting to touch him. That simply made no sense to her. How could she share a bed with this man and not crave his body? She wanted him now. Badly. A few strokes, a couple lingering tugs on his dick, and she was wet and needy, desperate to be filled. Like that, she molded to him, slinging a leg over his hip.

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