“I’m frigging myself, sweet. Say it. And tell me how it makes you feel to watch me.”
His intensity was mesmeric.
She took a breath. “When you, um, frig yourself”—heavens, just saying the word made her feel naughty—“I feel fluttery.”
“Where?”
She couldn’t resist his smoldering challenge.
“Between my legs,” she whispered.
“You know the proper word, sweetheart.”
She did. Because he’d taught it to her. “In my…my pussy.”
“There’s my bold girl.” His nostrils quivered, his fist taking on a rougher, faster cadence. “Is your pussy wet again?”
She pressed her thighs together, feeling the slickness. “Yes and no.”
He arched a brow. “Explain.”
“Well, it is, um, wet, but not exactlyagain, per se. I think I’ve been this way, um, continuously?”
Her honesty was rewarded by a ragged groan.
“Show me,” he rasped. “Christ, let me see that pretty, soaked cunny of yours.”
His thief’s eyes burned into her, incinerating her inhibitions. His desire fed her sense of power. Never in her life had she felt this wanted. This needed. The back-and-forth game of seduction she played with her husband was as fun as flirting…as thrilling as a mission.
With coursing excitement, she leaned back against the sofa, arching her back to show her bosoms to their best advantage. Hawk watched like a starved wolf as she trailed her fingertips over her right breast. When she circled the pouting peak with her index finger, he grunted, massaging another droplet from his cock. His features were harsh with hunger as she brought her hand down the valley of her belly…and rested it lightly on her clamped-together legs.
“Don’t stop now,” he bit out.
“Aren’t you forgetting the rules?” She tapped her chin. “One has to ask nicely.”
At her turning of the tables on him, something like joy blazed in his eyes.
“Please, Fiona,” he said thickly. “Be a good wife and show me your pussy.”
Obediently, she widened her knees. Trembled beneath his greedy, possessive gaze.
“Show me more.”
With a shaky hand, she parted herself for him.
“Christ, you’re beautiful.” His tone was reverent, as desperate as the grip he had on his enormous shaft. “Pink and plump, dripping with dew…”
She grew even slicker as he pumped himself harder, faster. His biceps bunched as he frigged himself, the muscles of his torso flexing. With his other hand, he cupped the dusky sac that hung between his bulging thighs. She saw pleasure overtaking him, the grooves on his hips tautening, the cords in his neck standing out in stark relief.
His wild, wolfish gaze locked on her.
“Do you want to watch me come?” he gritted out.
She gave a breathless nod.
He clenched his jaw, wrenching his fist once, twice, a growl tearing from his throat. An instant later, a milky stream erupted from his cock, landing with a faint splatter on the rug. Grunting, he shot his seed again and again; her heart pounded at his copious virility. She loved witnessing this primal act. Loved the way her husband’s cold control transformed into raw, animal desire.
Afterward, Hawk collapsed onto the sofa next to her, cuddling her close.
