THE PAST.
REAGAN’S POV.
I wake gasping. Pleasure rolls along my spine, and my body is littered with sweat.
“You don’t snore, wifey, but you do sleep like the dead.” He groans, his tongue lashing between my thighs.
Big palms cup the underside of my legs and lift them to hook over his wide shoulders. His tongue probes, his mouth gliding over my p***y with practiced flicks. A hand snakes up my front and captures my neck, squeezing ever so slightly. I bow in his mouth, the air in my lungs stilling between breast and throat.
Twisting my hands into the sheets, I gasp and whimper and then dig my fingers into his forearm as he pins me to the bed, his mouth relentless between my thighs. The rush of blood to my head, the intense adoration on my p***y, is too much. Wave after wave of unshakeab
