“Okay.” I grabbed the hem of my shirt, lifted it over my breasts, and threw it in his direction. He let out a low chuckle. “Tell me what you see.”
He dragged his gaze over me, taking in every curve, every inch. The intensity made my skin prickle, but instead of hiding, I let my confidence grow. I gave my chest a little jiggle, my tits bouncing just enough to grab his attention, and his reaction was instant.
“Char,” he groaned, his voice raw as he raked his hands through his hair. “Fuck. Okay. Fuck.”
I laughed, the sound light and teasing, loving how flustered he was getting.
“You want to know what I see?” he asked, his tone dropping into something rough and primal.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes locked onto mine like I was the only thing that existed.
“I see my wife standing there,” he growled. “I see curves that I want to run my hands over, to grab, to hold onto while I bury myself inside you. I see places for my hands to grip while I watch us take every ounce of pleasure we can from each other. I see that thick lower lip you’re chewing on, like you don’t know how fucking irresistible you are. I see a fucking queen standing in front of her king, and all I want is to worship every inch of her.”
I was the center of his attention. I was worshipped. I didn’t know why I was so scared of being put second because right now, I was nowhere near a runner-up. His attention was drawn toward me, waiting and watching for what I’d do next.
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my pajama shorts, hesitating only a moment before pushing them down over my hips. The cool air kissed my thighs, and the simple cotton of my underwear was suddenly too thin. I hadn’t shaved. I hadn’t prepared. I was bare in all the ways that mattered. Wild and unapologetic.
I stepped out of the pajamas and nudged them aside with my foot. My chin lifted as his gaze traveled the length of my body.
“Tell me,” I dared quietly. “Tell me what you see.”
Austin rose from the chair in one fluid, hungry movement. He gripped the back of his shirt and peeled it over his head and tossed it aside.
“What I see? It’s something that might ruin me.”
He stood quickly and his hand wrapped gently around my wrist, guiding me backward. The room felt smaller with every step he took toward me. My calves hit the ottoman at the endof the bed. He sat, legs spread, pulling me down between his thighs.
His fingers traced up my outer thigh, leaving goosebumps like sparks beneath my skin. When he reached the hem of my panties, he paused.
“These,” he murmured. “I should rip them off for keeping me from what’s mine.”
Heat throbbed low in my belly. His gaze flicked to the mirror on the opposite wall.
“Eyes there,” he instructed. “I want you to watch what I do to you.”
He pushed his hand beneath the thin cotton, fingers finding slick heat. Like he knew exactly what he’d done to me already. Two fingers slid into me, curling just right. My knees trembled, hands flying to my chest just to give them something to do.
“That’s it,” he whispered, mouth brushing my neck. “Look at you falling apart already.”
I couldn’t look away. The mirror showed everything: the way his fingers worked inside me, the subtle roll of my hips against his touch, the curve of my mouth falling open as pressure built too fast.
His free hand slid up my belly and around my throat lightly—not holding, just reminding me who was in control as his thumb pressed against my clit.
My gasp cracked open.
“Austin…”
His lips grazed my jaw. “You like watching yourself get ruined?”
I whimpered, my hips rocking helplessly into his hand.
He withdrew his fingers and my whole body protested the loss.
“On your knees,” he rasped. “Now.”
My legs almost gave out, but he caught my chin gently, guiding me down as he stood up. I sank to the floor between his thighs, breath ragged, pulse trembling everywhere his hands had just been.
He leaned forward, voice barely more than a hungry breath.
