That’s the only warning I get before he pulls the tip of my breast into his mouth and sucks, using his lips, teeth and tongue to drive me mad. I arch my back, pressing against him, and he takes the other breast into his hand, rolling the painfully pointed nipple between his fingers. White-hot pleasure spreads through me like raging fire, and I widen my legs shamelessly, tilting my pelvis and begging for more.
He drags his teeth along my breast, then nips the tip sharply before letting go. The slight pain mingles with ecstasy until I feel like I’m melting between my legs.
“Elliot, please…”
“Not yet. This beauty needs loving too.” He strokes my other nipple with the flat of his tongue. He wraps my hair around his fist and takes my other breast.
I writhe, my hands twisting in the sheet. He is relentless, using his mouth to control me. Pleasure pours through me, and I’m close. His hand brands my inner thigh as he pushes my legs farther apart. He runs his fingers along my slit and hums with satisfaction. The vibration nearly undoes me.
He pulls back and licks his glistening digits. “Mmmm. Hot and sweet, just the way I like it.”
I should be embarrassed—maybe even slightly scandalized—but it’s impossible to feel shame when my lover is taking such unmasked pleasure in my body.
He pulls a foil packet out of the drawer on the nightstand, then his mouth crashes down on mine. He devours me—every breath, every taste, every nibble reminding me that I’m his. I’m utterly lost in sensation, my body primed for him. My fingers dig into his hair and pull him closer so I can devour him too, even as I cling to his body and silently beg him to take me. The silken fabric of his shirt teases my hard nipples, and my inner muscles clench in hot shivers of pleasure.
“Fuck, I can’t wait,” he groans as his thick cock drives into me to the hilt.
My entire body goes taut at the invasion. “Yes,” I hiss, my fingers digging into his tight ass. “Yes, yes, yes!”
His forearms rest on each side of my head. He lowers his mouth for a kiss as he plunges in and out of me in that fast, controlled rhythm guaranteed to incinerate my mind, stroke by stroke. I clutch him, my arms wrapped around his waist and my greedy kiss urging him to keep going. His pelvis angles just the way I like, the head of his penis bumping the hyper-sensitive spot inside me again and again.
An orgasm slams into me. His mouth muffles my scream. But he continues, his tempo slightly faster now. In what seems like only a moment my primed body is convulsing a second time as another hot wave of bliss burns through me.
And still he doesn’t stop. He feels enormous inside me, against my swollen and sensitive tissues. I scream for the third time. The pleasure is so intense, my vision blurs.
Elliot curses under his breath. His body goes tight, the cord in his neck standing out. He lets out an animal cry before letting go.
He rolls over, breathing hard. The visual is striking; he hasn’t even bothered to take off his pants, just pulled them down enough to be able to get at me. I feel so exposed and vulnerable in my nude state, but when he turns his head and looks at me with that utterly sated tenderness in his eyes, I can almost believe we’re a genuine couple.
Chapter Twelve
Elliot
I open my eyes at eight thirty. I’ve slept in—it’s Saturday, and Nonny doesn’t have school today.
I turn my head and look at my wife. She’s sleeping, curled up on her side, one light little hand on my chest. Her hair spills on the pillow like ruby-colored silk, and her mouth is soft and pink.
My cock twitches and starts to unfurl. I want her again, despite having taken her three times last night. It seems like my body just won’t quit when she’s around. I crave her over and over.
Unable to help myself, I run my hand lightly along the smooth convexity of her thigh and hip. She sighs softly and burrows deeper into me.
I let out a quiet breath. As much as I want her, she probably needs more sleep. I noticed she hasn’t been sleeping well the past few days.
Silently, I slip out of bed, do my morning ritual of showering and brushing my teeth, and go to the office with a cup of coffee. Nonny’s not up yet. She’ll probably sleep in till noon.
I sit at my desk and tap the smooth wood. Belle told me some of the story, but not all. I’m certain the stuff between her and Dennis amounts to more than just a few years of dysfunctional dating.
Then she distracted me with sex. Not that I didn’t want to be distracted, and it’s extra good when she puts her mind to it, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to forget why I started the inquiry about the intern in the first place.
Besides, she kept defending him, like what he did was okay. I’m not okay with it, and I’m certainly not okay with the way the very idea of that fucking intern near my wife burns my gut.
FOLLOW THE MONEY.
What would that reveal? Would it be damaging to my wife or the intern?
My instinct is to ignore the message, but I hate secrets. I let my own willful blindness sabotage me with Annabelle Underhill because I figured it was only right that I respect her boundaries. It’s not going to happen a second time.
The hell with boundaries. If my wife has no skeletons in her closet, it won’t matter if I snoop around.