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so in love with. He climbed over me in the bed, forcing my back flat against the mattress with his weight. His jeans felt rough against me, but I welcomed the friction. His hands slid up and down my sides. “This is very sexy. Is it new?” His hands bunched up the black fabric over my ribs and his mouth found my neck.
    “I bought it just for you. I know you have a thing for lingerie.” Perhaps it was because we were still in the honeymoon phase of our relationship and marriage, but Porter always responded to lingerie, so I was constantly buying new pieces to keep him interested and satisfied. I knew he would take me wearing anything and I would still feel like the sexiest woman alive. He had that keen ability to worship me and turn my body into his temple. I chose this particular piece, however, because it served my purpose.
    It was all black silk; a strappy tank top that flared out a little at the hem and tiny black shorts that barely covered anything. It was soft and solid, covering my skin without giving anything away.
    “You’re wearing too many clothes still, Babe,” I whispered into his ear as his mouth worked my neck.
    “Hmm . . .” He grumbled against my skin. I felt him pull away from me and I missed his weight. He stood at the foot of the bed, giving me a grin that dared me to come and help him remove the clothing I was opposed to. I scooted down to him, never breaking eye contact, and kept looking straight at him as I reached for the button on his jeans. Once unfastened, my hands glided just into the waistband and I smoothed them around his hips until I felt the swell of his ass. He smirked as I gave his ass a firm squeeze on both cheeks, then slid my hands down over the perfect globes, pushing his pants and boxers down as I went. He kicked them off the rest of the way along with his shoes and socks. Again, he climbed over me. His face hovered over mine for just a moment, our breaths mingling with each other’s. Slowly, his nose flipped the end of mine and just that touch could have sent me over the edge. It wasn’t overtly sexual, but it was Porter. And it was me.
    His mouth found its place on mine, where it belonged, and I felt him gently lick the seam of my lips. I opened for him and met him and sighed as our tongues slowly danced with each other. This was all very good, everything was going according to plan, but I couldn’t afford to lose sight of the main objective. I gasped when his hand found my breast. The roughness of his calloused hands coupled with the cool crispness of the silk sliding over my nipple nearly derailed the entire plan. My breasts felt overly sensitive and this new sensation was a little overwhelming. But even through the haze of arousal I saw my opportunity.
    I twisted my mouth away from him, moving kisses down his throat, scruffed up by a day’s worth of stubble. “That feels so good. I want your mouth on me,” I rasped. He moved lower and pulled down on my top, exposing the breast he was currently focused on, his mouth finding the taut peak, sucking it in and tonguing it. I felt the urge to roll my eyes, cursing him for taking the easy route instead of pulling my top off, but I was lost in the sensation—drowning in the feeling of the chord strung from my nipple to my core being strummed by his tongue. He wound me up, slowly and steadily building the pressure that would eventually explode around me.
    “Porter,” I said, again, trying to redirect his attention.
    “Hmm . . .” he hummed against the tender flesh of my breast, slowly moving over to capture my other nipple in his mouth.
    “Now, oh God . . .” I breathed in and out, trying to maintain composure. “Now I’m wearing too many clothes.” His head lifted and I saw the smile that I loved grace his face.
    “Well, let’s get rid of them then.” He sat up a little farther, lifting himself off of me, his eyes raking over my body. He pulled down on my shorts and I lifted my hips so he could get them off. And