Completely naked, he swipes my lounge pants down and literally rips my blouse off my body. Since I am breastfeeding, I don't botherwith the nursing bra because I never see anyone to be modest around. Mia, who still comes almost every day to see me, wears a tank top with no bra, and Gloria doesn't care. So instead of fumbling with granny breast armor, I decided just to go au naturel on top and bottom.
What I didn't plan was for Beckett to require easy access.
He dips his fingers in me, and that is unexpected too because I am dripping wet.
“Well, Mrs. Myers, you’re rarin’ to go,” he teases. So that is good, right? He isn’t going to rip right through me if he is being playful.
“I still hate you.” I lick his soft pink lips and rake my fingers through the silver in his hair; he is so dangerous and irresistible.
“Same.” His thumb grazes over my nipple, which is raw and sore from breastfeeding, but his feather-light touch sends shivers through my entire body.
He picks me up, scooping me into his arms and off the wall, placing me at the end of the bed with my hips almost hanging off. Before I can gather my wits, he has my legs spread and his face between them, drinking me in like I am the only water in the desert. His soft wet tongue laves over my heated skin. All I want is to buck into his face. The short, prickly stubble grazes across my inflamed flesh, hurting just enough to burn a little.
Grinding on his tongue, which is already lodged deeply inside of me, I gasp. “Oh my God,” I say, not even realizing I am speaking.
“God is right.” He looks at me with a dark, feral expression. “But it’s you who makes me kneel.”
Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.
I realize then he is on his knees as he pulls me closer to his mouth. As soon as his teeth circle my clit, I am done for. I come so hard, so fast, so… um, much, it makes him growl against my skin. It isn’t angry but feral, dangerous, and possessed. When he rises from the floor, his arms hook under my shoulders and he drags me to the head of the bed.
“So I’m going to fuck my wife if you don’t mind.” His face is lusty and determined before he dips it to my neck and kisses me hard,pulling and biting, leaving his mark.
His rigid cock stabs my hip and feels so ardent and demanding.
“Might as well fuck me while you have me,” I breathe, wanting him to ride me as hard as he can. “Stop eating my neck, husband, and give me your cock.” Maybe a little too demanding, but oh well, he is a captive cock, and after all I’ve been through, I totally want to get off.
I am not a Beckett Myers fan. In fact, I almost hate the guy for marrying me without giving me a choice. But to be real, what I hate most is that he is so damn controlling about my well-being but doesn’t like me enough to be my friend or even try. I still hope to have his love; I just will never admit it.
“Such a filthy mouth for a wife and mother. I thought ballet dancers were prudish,” he says, dipping to my breast and kissing each of my painfully aroused nipples.
Thank God Rayne just nursed because Beckett massages them and makes them feel so much better. There might be some benefits to being a ‘wife’ to a doctor.
“Why aren’t you fucking me?” I am not going to get into a cultural debate about ballet dancers while he has me all hot and bothered.
“Because I don’t take demands.” He looks sinister and evil.
I bite his pec and leave a mark. “You do now!” I lick the bite, and all he does is laugh.
“Was that really necessary?” he asks, unable to hold back his mirth.
“As necessary as my hickey.” I touch the side of my neck that is still a little tender and sore after he sucked a bruise into me. “I can always return the favor.” I open my mouth wide and head for his neck, and he stops me with a hiss.
“We aren’t in tenth grade,” he says through gritted teeth, then slowly licks his way down my body to my clit again, and I almost come just with the tiny bit of pleasure he is offering.
That’s when I see the massive dragon tattoo on his back.
I rake my hands through his hair, wanting to touch the tattoo… and then it hits me.
The same dragon. The same dark lines curling over his shoulderblade.
The man who took my virginity in a Waldorf Astoria suite wearing a golden rooster mask… was Beckett Myers. My breath catches so hard it hurts.
I freeze beneath him.
“Scarlett?” His voice is rough, still thick with need, but he feels me go still. He lifts his head, searching my face. “What’s wrong?”
I stare up at him, heart slamming against my ribs.
