“I want you to fuck me,” she told him.
Instead of complying, he carried her to their bed and laid her down, giving her a long, lingering kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, a master in the art of seduction.
He pulled away and straightened, avoiding Meggie’s hands. His long, thick erection pressed against his jeans and Meggie squeezed her thighs together, wet and hot. One brush of his finger or swipe of his tongue and she’d explode.
Tipping her head, she arched her back, the air teasing her achy nipples and hardening them further.
Christopher’s satisfied laughter, so overwhelmingly masculine, swirled through her, settling deep inside of her, music to her ears.
“You made your pussy come?”
She lifted her head and her mouth watered at the sight that greeted her. Her husband, shirtless, his broad, inked chest tanned and as finely hewn as a marble statue. Tattoos decorated his muscular arms and wrapped around to his sleek back. His ink-dark hair, shot through with silver, was growing back but still so much shorter than it had once been, thanks to Axel. He captured her gaze with his, his eyes gleaming, a sexy, arrogant tilt to his full lips, and slid his jeans down.
His big cock sprang free. Licking her lips, Meggie sat up, intending to take him into her hands. He backed up, walked to his side of the bed, and lit a cigarette.
“You ain’t answered me, Megan.”
What had he asked her again? She searched her foggy brain and remembered he wanted to know if she’d finger fucked herself. She shook her head.
Jamming a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, he stroked himself, his burning desire captivating her. She could barely stand, barely hold herself together, wanting his heavy erection against her tongue, down her throat, and deep inside her pussy.
“Where’s your spiked bikini?”
“In my suitcase,” she said, her voice low and throaty, hoarse with need.
Christopher cocked his head to the side, gave her another half-smile, aware he was torturing her.
“You fuckin’ know you drive me, dontcha, baby? I wake up never knowin’ what to expect.” Stroke, pull, caress. Stroke, pull, caress. The tip of his cock glistened. “But when you finally took off all those fuckin’ clothes? When you started rubbing your cunt and I wasn’t there to touch you?” He halted his cock strokes, took his cigarette between his fingers, and then abandoned it in the ashtray on his nightstand. “I been outta my mind waitin’ to fuck you ever since.”
Meggie tweaked her nipple.
“Ain’t said you could touch yourself.”
“Please?” Meggie dropped her hand to her side. “I want to come.”
“How?” He fisted his cock. “You want my dick hammerin’ your pussy? You want me to tongue-fuck you? Or you want me to use my fingers to caress your pussy, lightly touchin’ your lil’ clit, and slowly increasin’ the pressure until you cream?”
“I want you inside of me.”
He stalked around the bed and halted when he reached her side. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”
“So are you,” Meggie panted.
“You mine, Megan. You fuckin’ belong to me.”
“Always. Forever.”
“And I’m yours.”
“Yes.”
Finally, he climbed on the bed, but instead of taking her in his arms, or justtaking her, he swept that hot, intense gaze over her again.
Restless, Meggie opened her legs and tilted her hips. She thought about fingering herself but she didn’t trust him not to prolong his torture. Maybe pull out the handcuffsoreven spank her. Not that she didn’t enjoy it, but she was too wound up and impatient. Besides, they usually reserved those games for when they were alone and away from home.
Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her ear. His hand cupped her pussy and she moaned.
“You fuckin’ soakin’, yeah?” he whispered. “About to come.”
