Dinner on Friday

58. Dante

FOREVER

I could still taste her on my lips, fresh, watery, and so fucking addicting. It wasn't often I found myself on my knees, but I loved kneeling between her thighs while I drank from her honeyed core. I wanted more.

As I tucked my white shirt into my suit pants, I looked over at my wife as she added the finishing touches to her makeup. She didn't look a day older than nineteen, the age she was when I first met her. I thought she was beautiful then, but now she was even more so.

She was beautiful in all the ways that mattered, not just physically. The beauty of her resilience was something I admired, and I couldn't wait for her to instill the same qualities in our children.

I walked over and tilted her head, staring intensely into her eyes before lowering my mouth to hers. Her soft lips moved tentatively at first before relaxing beneath mine. My tongue dove into her mouth, craving her taste like an addict.

She moaned, and I resisted the urge to grab her by her neck and throw her on the bed. I wanted to fuck her like there was no tomorrow, pounding into her over and over until she was a trembling mess beneath me.

I wanted to ruin her makeup as I watched her sucking my cock, her saliva dripping down her chin as I used her throat as a massager. I kissed her harder, the image in my head fueling my desire. Groaning, I raked my teeth across her lower lip before releasing her.

"Help me with my cufflinks," I said in a hoarse whisper. I couldn't trust my voice when I was around my wife. She opened her hand, and I dropped the golden cufflinks on her palm.

She licked her lips, her pink tongue a distraction. Lost in her task, she didn't seem to have a clue about her adorableness. I watched how she blinked slowly, her gaze moving back and forth between the apparent bulge in my slacks and pinning the cufflinks at my wrists.

Unable to help myself, I kissed her again when she was done. She swooned, kissing me back just as fervently.

"You're going to look beautiful in your dress," I said, straightening back up to make my way to the closet. I took the dress off the hanger and laid it on the bed.

Carla smiled and wheeled over to the edge of the bed, running her hand over the soft, flowy material.
"It's beautiful."

"I'll help you get into it." I grabbed the dress, lowered the zipper, and drove my hand under the skirt and toward the neckline. "Hands over your head, cariño."

Protecting her makeup by putting her arms in front of her face, I lowered the dress over her hands and then her head. The excess material whooshed over the wheelchair's armrest, and I looked down to see that she was smiling.

"It looks like a wedding dress," she whispered.

"Does it?"

"Very."

"I'm going to pull you up now. You ready?" She nodded and I hoisted her to her feet, her hand wrapping around my neck. The dress fell to her feet, a mixture of lace and ruffles starting from her knees. Once the zipper was up, the expensive material hugged her waist and hips, accentuating her voluptuous ass.

Half carrying her weight, I turned us around until she was looking at her back in the mirror. Grabbing a handful of her backside, I kneaded her flesh to my liking before slapping it repeatedly until it jiggled.

"That ass is mine," I grunted.

She giggled, and my heart swelled in my chest. This woman was the love of my life, and nobody could tell me otherwise.

"So beautiful," I said when I turned to face the mirror as well.

"Thank you, love. For the first time in a long time, I feel beautiful." Her eyes warmed, and I was glad nothing could dim her light. Not even me. Not for long, anyway.