Page 82 of Insta Bride
His easy nature had won over Hunter, Caleb and the guys. My friends were taking a little longer to come around—although they’d all admitted that if they were on the island with him, they wouldn’t have taken half as long as I did to invite him to their villa.
“Why does it have to be your thing.” I threatened to mess up his hair before he grabbed me in into a massive bear hug. “We’ll turn up, we’ll split up across two lanes. It’ll be fun.”
“How about I take you out for dinner, instead.” He danced me around our living room. “Let me wine you and dine you. There’s that little Italian place you wanted to try.”
“Or, we could go out with friends, order some pizzas, grab some beers and roll the ball down and knock over the pins.”
“Is it competitive?”
“Of course, it’s a competition. Seriously, you’ve never been bowling?”
Kye followed me into our bedroom, his hands taking ownership of my hips, helping me unzip my peach dress as I kicked away my heels.
“You’ve had a long day, how about you lie down, and I’ll make you feel better.”
“Seriously? You’d rather give me a back rub than go out?”
“I’d rather give you a back rub than do a hell of a lot of other things.”
“Then, I’ll take a rain cheque on the full body massage—”
“I said back rub.”
“I heard full body massage—including scented candles and a playlist of my choice.”
“At least your music isn’t totally crap.”
“So, it’s decided?” Standing in front of my husband, I caressed his bulge, loving the way my thumbs rubbed against the head through his jeans. Yes, he could probably take full advantage of me in between getting dressed for tonight, but I refused to get distracted. “I’ll be dressed in five, we should make it to the lanes in time, and then tonight you will honor your champion wife with the massage to end all massages.”
“What if I’m no good at bowling? I don’t want to embarrass you.” He tugged at my panty elastic. Giving me no choice but to take a step towards him, or literally lose my pants. “We could hire a lane to ourselves tomorrow. Give me time to practice, you know how I don’t like to disappoint.”
His lips brushed mine, removing conscious thought. “Oh, Kye,” I moaned as his kiss deepened.
Giving into my husband had become my favorite hobby. Allowing us both to think he’d convinced me when in actual fact, my pussy burned with longing from the moment I entered the apartment lobby.
“You want to practice, first?” I ground against him as he dropped the bra straps over my shoulders. I trembled as he kissed his way down to taste a nipple. My knees almost collapsed as he rubbed the bud between his teeth. The anticipation of a small bite was enough to send me wild.
“Does it feel like I need practice?”
“You need to hold the ball just right.” I leaned down but he pushed away my hand.
“Forget the balls, does it feel like I need practice?”
“Well, there is a spot—”
Of course, he found it.
Occasionally, he treated eating me out as his personal Olympic sport. Timing to see how long it would take with tongue alone, or two fingers. Or, two hands. No matter how much I tried to resist, he could always break down my walls.
Kye made fucking fun.
And then, just as I rode another wave, and tried to pin his head between my thighs, he broke free, kissing and climbing his way up my body until I wrapped him within my legs.
Pulling him home.
Stretching out so he could take me anyway he wanted.
Loving how we still managed to laugh, and have sex, and fight before fucking. We had it all, I had it all.