“Can we please stop talking about this?”
“Not a chance, sweetheart.” He picks up one with a particularly sexy cover. A huge tattooed man looming over a plus-size black woman. “I want to know what gets you hot, wife. What scenes you read late at night.” He steps closer. Backing me against the bed. “What makes you touch yourself.”
Oh. My. God.
“Zak…”
His voice drops even lower. “Do you touch yourself reading these, baby?”
I bite my lip, not answering.
He chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He leans in to bring his mouth close to my ear. “Show me.”
I jump back. “What?!”
“Read to me and show me what you do.”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”
He tilts his head to the side, smiling. “Why not?”
“Because it’s embarrassing!”
He lets out another sexy chuckle. “Baby, this is us. You like this shit. I think it’s cool as fuck my wife’s into freaky stuff.” I moan, burying my face in his chest, and he laughs again, kissing the top of my head. “Read to me, sweetheart,” he asks again. Softer this time. “Please.”
Damn it.
“Fine,” I mumble.
His eyes light up, the boyish, excited grin widening, making me reluctantly smile back. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But you can’t make fun of me.”
He squeezes me. “You know I’m just giving you shit. This is hot.”
I grab one of the books. Not the filthiest one, but definitely one of my five hot pepper ones.
Zak sits on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. His long legs stretched out and pats the space between his thighs.
“Come here.”
I climb on the bed and settle between his powerful thighs, my back to his broad chest. His body heat seeps into me; his arms come around me. One of his hands resting on my stomach. While the other one takes the book and flips it open to a random page.
“Read,” he rumbles, handing it back to me.
I take a breath and start reading. The scene is intense. The hero’s pinning the heroine against a wall, fucking her.
Zak’s hand on my stomach starts moving. He slides under my shirt, making me stumble over my words.
“Keep reading,” he rasps against my skin.
I do, but my voice is shaky.
His hand slides higher to cup my breast through my bra. I can feel the calluses on his palm. The heat of his skin.
I stop reading altogether, panting and wriggling.
“I said, keep reading, baby.” More kisses on the side of my face, on my neck.
