Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back!

The hallway's carpet muffled every sound, and as Curtis led Leanne toward the door, the silence was so profound that she could hear her heartbeat. Once inside, Leanne bent down to take off her shoes, but Curtis knelt before her, gently lifting her leg to slip off her high heels.

Leanne leaned against the wall as he removed her shoes, her bare feet touching the cool floor.

Curtis placed her purse on a table, loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and poured her a glass of water.

Leanne felt like a lamb who had walked into a lion's den, not understanding why the lion had suddenly decided to nap. She obediently took a few sips, and Curtis took the glass from her, finishing the rest before washing his hands leisurely.

Then, he lifted her and put her on the dining table draped with a white tablecloth. As Leanne looked up, his kiss descended.

Slow and deliberate, like savoring a slice of cherry pie, his kisses were gentle and thorough, his fingers softly caressing her. Leanne's guard slowly melted away in this indulgent warmth.

The clasp at the back of her neck came undone. Curtis supported her back, his breath hot as it moved down her neck. Below her delicate collarbone, her breasts were beautiful, not too small or too large, just perfectly plump like ripe peaches.

He savored the creamy whiteness of her skin, and Leanne involuntarily tilted her head back, her toes curling tightly. She clutched at Curtis' shirt collar, the light in the dining room too bright, causing tears to well up in her eyes.

She pushed at Curtis' shoulder. "Let's go to the bed."

Curtis asked, "And

the chain,"

bedroom. Her fairy-like gown had slipped off when he laid her

leg shimmered under the

it, struggling with the knot. Curtis' warm hands covered hers, his

against her, he didn't

grew heavier, holding the soft, compliant form in his arms,

his veins, like a tide breaking through a dam, overwhelmingly

all invaded by his intense, fiery presence, her body heating up and trembling uncontrollably. She bit her lip hard, her throat releasing a sweet, strained

in clouds or floating on an undulating sea, a little sailboat tossed high by

husky and seductive. "Baby, open

swirling tide of love and passion in

tide,

his fingers threading through her damp hair, his

calm lake, with a crescent moon in the sky

the

together, her breathing uneven and chaotic. Curtis' large hand guided her waist as they rode the high waves of