Frayed Silk(72)
“Yes,” I moan, my back arching as he grabs my hips and slams home in one thrust.
“Fuck, so fucking good,” he rasps, hands grabbing my ass cheeks and using them for leverage as he starts thrusting in and out in a punishing rhythm that has me feeling delirious. His thick length drags along that perfect spot, exactly where I need it, every time. A hand leaves my ass and scoops my hair into his fist. “Gonna come again, beautiful?” he asks.
“I … y-yes, ohhh, fuck. Don’t stop,” I stutter out in response.
He chuckles darkly, swiveling his hips, and then I’m falling apart, almost slipping as my body trembles. His hand releases my hair, wrapping tightly around my waist as he pumps in and out of me a few more times then stays buried to the hilt. Grinding slowly, he comes with a low, hoarse groan ripping its way out of his throat.
“Shit.” He laughs huskily, carefully sliding out of me and turning me around in his arms. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of fucking you, wife.” He cups my face, tucking some of my wet hair behind my ear as I look up at him.
“Good.” I grin. “Because you did say forever. So you’re stuck with my demanding ass.”
That amazing mouth tugs into a smirk, and his hands move down to squeeze said ass. “Fine with me.” He ducks his head, taking my lips in a gentle kiss and moving us underneath the water. “Only ever, always you,” he says against my mouth, kissing it one more time before grabbing the shampoo and washing my hair. I laugh, wiping suds out of my eyes as he attempts to wash it all out. Taking over, I rinse out the shampoo and pass him the conditioner, loving the way he bites his lip as he concentrates on running it through the ends of my hair.
After we’re finished washing each other, we climb out and get dried. I’m getting dressed into a pair of jeans, cream blouse, and black jacket when I notice the time.
Shit. “Leo, we’re going to be late.”
He comes out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his hair and glancing at the time. “We’ll be fine. I’ll grab our stuff and meet you in the car in ten.”
He pecks my head then walks into our wardrobe to get dressed as I race into the bathroom, quickly putting some mascara and lip gloss on. Men. Of course, he thinks ten minutes is enough time. I’d roll my eyes, but I’m in too much of a hurry. Snatching my hair dryer from the drawer, I plug it in and tug a brush through my messy, wet blond locks. Five minutes later, it’s only half dry, but it’ll have to do.
I run back downstairs, finding Leo in the doorway to the garage, my purse dangling from his finger. “Thank you.” I grab it, planning on heading straight for his car, but he doesn’t let go, causing me to collide with his chest.
“Chill.” He smiles down at me. “We’ll be there in no time. Besides, I’m the one who should be freaking out.”
He’s right, damn it. Kissing me on the nose, he lets go of my bag and opens the car door for me to hop in. Rounding the car, he gets in and we back out of the driveway, the garage closing as Leo puts the car into first and speeds off down the street.
Once we’re nearing the city, I ask, “You do seem pretty okay about this, or are you secretly freaking out a little?”
He grabs my hand, linking his fingers through mine on his thigh.
“No point in freaking out until I get there.” He releases my hand after a minute to flick the turn signal on, exiting the highway and driving into the city. “And I’ve got you. I don’t think you understand—hell, I don’t think I understood until recent weeks—how much that helps.”
He parks the car outside a new looking brown and black building that’s only a few blocks away from his work. I grab his hand again, lifting it to my mouth and kissing the top of it before opening the door and climbing out into the late morning sunshine. The ocean carries a breeze through the tall buildings of the city that has me buttoning my coat closed as Leo waits for me on the curb. Weaving our fingers together again, we walk inside the doors and are greeted by a young man with a kind face and an even kinder smile as he lifts his gaze to us.
“Good afternoon, how can I help you?”
“Leo Vandellen, here to see Dr. Tonks,” Leo informs him before we’re told to take a seat. The number I found in his car? It was because he’d heard of a therapist, Dr. Tonks, moving here to Rayleigh.
Not even two minutes later, an older male, looking to be in his mid to late forties, comes down the hall and shakes our hands before asking us to follow him into his office. Walking inside, I find myself impressed. Not only by the easygoing manner of Dr. Tonks but also by his room. The building may be new, stylish even, but it’s not sterile. The air isn’t stagnant or oppressive. The windows are all open, allowing the breeze to filter in and stir the venetian blinds, causing them to slap gently against the glass. The couches are leather and new, but they look comfortable. There are red woven rugs and pictures of Dr. Tonks’s family on his desk and on the shelves, next to certificates stating his various degrees.
Leo takes a seat on the couch, lifting a leg and resting his ankle over his knee as he looks over at me. Giving him a small smile, I walk over and take a seat beside him. His hand instantly finds mine, his grip firm as I feel him tense up next to me. We make idle chitchat for a little while, and Dr. Tonks tells us to call him Evan.
“So,” Evan finally says, sitting opposite us with his notepad beside him on the couch. He folds his hands together in his lap as he reclines back a little, looking relaxed as he asks, “What brings you here today?”