“That’s right.” He sped up, his thumb flying across my clit, hips thrusting deep. Just as crazed for it as I was. “Give it to me, wife. Come all over your husband’s cock. Show me no one else deserves to feel this pussy butme.”
On a broken sob, I exploded—back arching, nails digging into his flesh, and his name falling from my lips like a prayer. My pussy clenched around him, over and over, until he cursed and sank deep.
With a low, guttural moan against my neck, he fell over the edge with me, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside me, his body shuddering with his release.
We stayed like that for long moments, both of us gasping, boneless, wrecked. My body was trembling beneath his, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might leap straight out of my chest.
Lincoln lifted his head from my neck and rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, our breath mingling in the space between us.
“Jesus Christ, Willa,” he rasped. Proof he was just as wrung out as I was.
I ran my fingers up and down his back, relishing in the fullness of him still inside me. I wasn’t sure I ever wanted him to leave.
Before I could tell him just that, he sat up and pulled out, slowly, carefully. And I felt it immediately—the warm, slick slide of his come leaking out of me. My breath caught at the sensation, but it was the look on Lincoln’s face that had my lungs seizing.
Staring between us, his eyes dark and ravenous, he licked a slow path across his bottom lip. He shuffled a bit closer, swiping the head of his cock against my pussy, gathering every bit of his orgasm that had slipped out of me.
And then, with his eyes locked on mine, he pushed his cock inside me again. A slow, possessive thrust that left no doubt to his intention, filling me in the way only he could.
“Oh god,” I moaned. “Again?”
“Hell yes, again. You think we’re done?” he asked, his voice low, gritty, as he rocked into me. “Not yet, wife. I’m gonna keep filling you up until your greedy pussy learns to hold every single drop.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
WILLA
Beau:
Apparently newlywed life is busy as shit, but maybe text your twin once in a while? And answer your goddamn phone.
After a nightfor the record books, I’d spent the past several days avoiding everything. The twinge in my back, the texts from my brother…my feelings.
But fuck, this wasnotsupposed to happen.
I wasn’t supposed to get allgooeyfor Lincoln Steele. Wasn’t supposed to crave him so much it scared the hell out of me.
So, yeah. I’d avoided him. And Chloe. And Sutton.
Because I knew their little girls’ date ambush was imminent, and I had no idea how I was going to handle that. What was I going to say?
Lincoln and I are married, but we’re notreallymarried. Except he fucked me like we are, made me feel things I didn’tthink were possible, and now I think I might be, maybe, slightly, the tiniest bit falling in love with my husband…
I was sure that would go over amazingly well.
Unfortunately, since Laurel had been helping at the farm, Sutton had the inside track on my schedule. Which was how she caught me before I could escape to the library where I’d been hiding just to get some damn breathing room from my too-hot-for-my-sanity husband.
“Girls’ night. No arguments,” she said from the front porch. “You’ve been dodging us. It’s annoying.”
“I’ve been busy,” I lied.
She raised a single brow, a silent invitation to try her. “You haven’t replied to the group chat in three days, and Chloe made me help her with some spell to get you to stop avoiding us. You’re coming.”
Since I was not, in fact, willing to try the woman who’d been a single mom to a sarcastic porcupine of a teenager for the past seventeen years, I allowed Sutton to usher me into her car and drive us into town.
And straight to One Night Stan’s.
Because of course that was where we’d go. It was the best—and only—bar in town. And it wasn’t like I could admit I’d been avoiding my own husband—my stupidly hot, infuriatingly attentive, somehow-also-soft-where-it-matteredfakehusband.
