It was for the best that he made a hasty exit because Rory had just lit the fuse, and the explosion of fireworks was imminent.
“Care to explain this?” I dropped the box next to where Rory was propped against the headboard, reading.
My wife set her book down, leaning over to peek inside. Pink tinted her cheeks, but when she went to take the box into her hands, I pulled it out of reach.
“Not so fast.”
Her eyes snapped up, the blue depths blazing. “Did you open my mail?”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the safety measures implemented in this house. All packages are opened at the gatehouse, no matter who they’re addressed to.”
Lips parting on a gasp, she shrieked, “Your men saw these?”
Not answering her question, I reached into the box, pulled out one of the cocks, and held it up for inspection. “I have to say, I’m surprised something this small can even get you off.”
She rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you ever heard that it’s not about size, but how you use it?”
“Sure.” I lifted one shoulder. “Maybe for some women, that’s true. But we both know you’re not satisfied unless you’re stretched to the max around my cock, almost to the point of pain. And not a single one of those”—my gaze dipped to the contents of the box—“can hit the spot like my piercings do.”
Rory huffed. “It’s a wonder you can fit your ego through the door.”
I tossed the dildo onto the mattress. “Still waiting to hear what possessed you to order a lifetime supply of sex toys.”
She had the audacity to laugh in my face. “Lifetime supply? I’ll be lucky if I don’t wear these out by the end of the month and have to order more.”
It was no secret that the pregnancy had sent her hormones in overdrive. Before leaving Colorado, we were fucking multiple times a day, but since our return to Chicago—and my true identity being revealed—she hadn’t let me touch her. I could only imagine the week-long dry spell had been torture for my horny wife.
Caging her in against the headboard, I leaned in close enough that I could feel her breath fanning my face. “Why bother with the imitation when you can have the real thing?”
Rory shoved at my shoulders, but I didn’t budge. Seething, she spat, “Because I despise you.”
“Funny,” I mused. “That’s never stopped you before.”
My fingers trailed down her neck, and she sucked in a sharp breath, the swells of her breasts brushing against my bare chest.
“Nothing is like it was before.” Her head fell back, exposing her throat, and I dipped to suck at the hollow where her pulse fluttered.
With my cock swelling to life in my shorts, my voice grew husky. “You’re right about that.” My palm flattened against her rounded stomach for the first time in a week. “Like it or not, you’re carrying my son. There’s a piece of me growing inside of you. You belong to me, more now than ever before. And if you want to come, it’ll be at my hand, my mouth, my dick, or not at all.”
“You’re a real fucking bastard, you know that?” She arched against me when I bit down on her nipple through the fabric of her silk camisole.
Lifting the hem of her top so I could gaze upon the skin stretched taut over the swell of her belly before licking a path lower toward where her hips lifted, desperate for my attention, I hummed. “It’s been brought to my attention a few times before.”
“Asshole.” The insult floated toward the ceiling on a moan as I dipped beneath her tiny shorts, dragging a path through her soaked slit.
“Another fan favorite.” I circled her clit with just enough pressure to drive her wild, but not enough to get her off.
“You’ve made your point,” she panted.
A rough chuckle slipped past my lips. “Oh, sweetheart, I’ve barely begun.”
Rory’s eyes rolled into the back of her head when I sank two fingers into her tight heat. “God, yes.”
“Is this what you wanted?” I pumped into her with slow, deep thrusts.
“Mm-hmm.” Her back bowed off the mattress when I curled the digits to massage her G-spot. “Right there. Don’t stop.”
“Here?” Buried deep, I put firm pressure against where she demanded.
