“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips ghosting up my neck. My nipples stiffened into hardened peaks. Would he be able to make me come without hardly touching me? How was this happening?
My hand searched for him, his skin, and I found the soft cotton of his boxer briefs.
“Mar,” he moaned.
And that’s what snapped me out of it. “No. Not if you won’t love me.”
I sat up, waiting for my hips to settle before standing and storming to the closet where I’d left the box with the sexy lingerie in it. I grabbed it and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
It was my wedding night. To my convenience business transaction of a husband. Myhotconvenience business transaction husband.
Jack was committed to saving his body for me, but not his heart. I wanted to give him my heart and body, but not without his heart. We couldn’t have both. We were at a standstill.
I ripped off my soft pajamas in a rage, tossing them against the bathroom wall. I looked at myself in the mirror: I still had my wedding hair, but my makeup was gone. I was naked, but not for long. With one hand on the counter, I stepped into the lace,which could barely qualify as more than a handkerchief to cover part of my stomach. It was crotchless and even my breasts were almost fully out.
But goddamn, did I look amazing. Fucking gorgeous. Jack would die if he saw me like this. Did I look like I did in my twenties? Before kids? Absolutely not. Silvery stretch marks lined my breasts, belly, hips, and upper thighs. I had curves that seemed permanent at this point. According to society, I was not the ideal.
But Jack begged for me. He knew my worth.
But most importantly, I knew my worth. I was worthy of love and good sex and passion and a partner who would honor that. I had earned the woman in the mirror, the woman who was taking what she deserved.
It was like my whole body was blossoming.
Unfolding.
Blooming.
For Jack.
I knew I was worth love and that Jack couldn’t give it. But I knew the man in the next room had the power to make me feel good, and I wanted that too. My body was at war with my heart, and it was the most infuriating thing I’d ever endured.
A blend of arousal and fury reddened my cheeks. I couldn’t look at myself anymore. I turned my back on the mirror and rested my ass on the edge of the counter, clawing my fingers up my inner thigh, needing the sweet bite of pain to match the torture within me. I groaned, then passed a finger down my slit.
Fucking soaked.
I spread my wetness around and imagined Jack was the one to spread it with his tongue. I threw my head back and let out some sort of feral sound as my fingers circled my clit, relief so close and so far away.
“Mara,” came the growl from the other side of the door.
“I’m in the bathroom,” I said, like I was annoyed. And I kind of was. There was only room for a winner and a loser in this battle, and I was a sore loser.
Jack drew a breath, seemingly through his teeth by the sound of it. “Are you touching yourself?”
“That’s none of your business,” I snapped.
The door swung open and he raised his scarred eyebrow at me, standing in his underwear and panting. “You’re my wife. If you want to be touched, I’ll be the one doing the touching.”
“I’m not your property,” I huffed, sitting farther back on the counter. I spread my legs, catching my heels at the counter’s edge, forcing him to see me. “I only want to be touched if I’ll be loved.”
Jack came to stand between my open legs, palming his erection. His chest quivered where he sucked in air. “Why? You don’t love me.”
“Not yet. But I will.” I tossed my hair over my shoulder so he got a full view of my exposed breasts.
“Mara, please. Just let me show you how good it can be.”
I gasped as my finger found an especially tender spot.
Jack made a noise between a groan and a cry. “I want to touch you so bad.”
