Racer

Page 78

As her dress starts coming down, I slide my hands down her bare arms. She shivers, and my gut coils tight with need and desire. “Racer, I’m so happy right now.”

She’s whispering.

“I know.”

And I’m whispering too. I don’t know why, as we’re alone. But this moment feels fucking holy, and words are almost too superfluous for a moment like this. I turn Lana back around to face me.

She’s already breathing hard, and her heart is beating rapidly in that little pulse point at her throat. I drink her in, slowly, wanting to memorize this moment for as long as I live.

My wife in a flimsy strapless bra and an even flimsier white lace thong, in garters, hose that reach up to mid-thigh, and heels that she’s able to step out of as she takes a step closer to me.

Ivory skin, freckled nose, her hair still up with that veil, my gut coils back like a spring.

I want this girl like crazy. Not only with every atom, pore, and cell of my body. I want this girl heart and soul. I stare into those wide green eyes, flooded with love for me, and I watch them carefully as I start to work her lovely white lace bra open to reveal her gorgeous breasts.

I look at her, eye contact holding as I lean down, holding as I bring my tongue out to lick one puckered nipple, and my dick throbs mercilessly in my pants as her eyes flare wide and her pupils dilate even more.

I turn my head and torture the other nipple, slow and easy, making it stand up and quiver when I breathe on it.

“They’re always up when I’m with you,” she whispers as she leans her head to nuzzle my ear, and I raise my brows and straighten, my wife’s gaze mischievous and still shy. I don’t know why she continues to feel shy with me sometimes, but I like it. I like everything about her to the point she’s got me all jacked up just standing here with her wedding dress pooled at her feet and that fucking lace garter looking sexy as shit on her slim legs.

There’s a blue rose pin attached to her garter, and I finger it as I trail my eyes over her body. “What’s this?”

“Reese gave it to me.” Like a greedy siren who won’t wait for more, Lana’s unknotting my tie and pushing my jacket off my shoulders. “Something borrowed and something blue.”

I ease my arms out of my jacket and toss it into the air, then slide my fingers up the inside of her thigh as she undoes the buttons of my shirt.

“How about something hot and wet for the groom,” I murmur, easing my fingers into her white lace panties.

She groans on contact, and a more animalistic sound comes from me at the same time, and Lana presses a kiss to my neck, then starts slowly kissing the skin of my chest as she unbuttons down my shirt and pushes it off my chest.

“Girl, I love you so much,” I rasp, taking her mouth beneath mine, suddenly growing a little rougher and more desperate.

Lana’s tongue comes out to play with mine, and we stumble our way into the bedroom of my pad, where we’ll be living for the summer months before taking off again for next year’s F1 season.

My gut is churning from my need of her. My slacks are near bursting from the length and width of my damned greedy dick, and when Lana caresses it with that magic hand of hers, I growl and roll her to her back, the kiss turning more desperate.

Her panties are so flimsy I grab them to pull them down her legs and, instead, end up tearing them off her. Something I’ve started to do lately. My bride gasps in delight and I smile and look down at her, all bare for me except for that garter.

I like it.

Licking my teeth, I run my hands down her body, watching her pant, her breasts rising and falling, her pupils dilating.

“Racer, I need you,” she breathes.

I shake my head no, smirking, as I continue exploring her very slowly, and she sits up on the bed and suddenly straddles me.

I don’t complain when she drops her pussy to my hard dick and rubs against it, the only thing separating us the slacks of my tux, which I’m still wearing.

She looks at me, and I look at her, and I’m hot enough to explode as I grab her face in one hand, and tease my tongue along her lips again. “What do you want, wife?” I croon, licking her slowly, side to side, then I tease the tip of my tongue inside.

“Give me you,” she breathes, reaching between our bodies to stroke my hard dick.

She turns me on like a brand-new radio when she gets greedy for me like that.

“All of me,” I growl, as if that’s the only condition of her getting a piece of me: it’s all or nothing and that’s the way it is. She’s humming with anticipation as I lower her back down and then step back to remove my slacks.

She watches me—eyes running over my muscled chest, my hard abs, then down my happy trail, taking in my fully elongated dick, and my hard legs and thighs. Her breathing quickens, and she eyes me like I’m fucking perfection when the only perfect thing in this room is looking at me.

“All of me,” I repeat as I crawl over her.

She licks her lips in anticipation, then raises her head and kisses me on the mouth and drops her head, smiling up at me.

I raise my brows. The look she’s giving me is a full on, love-me-fuck-me look. Hell, I’m so game my adrenaline is pumping, my body straining for the release I can only find in her.

My cock continues throbbing as I grab the base and tease the head up and down her folds. I lean forward and whisper something naughty in her ear, that I’m going to fill her with my cum, and she laughs and takes a bite out of my chin and rocks her hips up to my dick to lure me.

I nearly lose control.

I crush her mouth beneath mine, holding her face tenderly in my hand as we taste each other. I can barely keep my head straight as I run my hands down her sides, cupping her lovely breasts, her smooth skin, her abdomen.

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