Saint shifts in my vision, arms still crossed, muscles tight and bunching from restraint as his gaze homes in on my breasts.
My elbows squeeze them together, nipples hardening from the weight of their swings, the cold air tightening my skin.
Saint’s hazel eyes snap up to meet mine. The desire, the wanton need I see there makes my elbows wobble, weaken.
But Doc’s hand is there again for support, pulling me back even further, arching my back until my shoulders meet his chest. He’s so deep now, pushing to the very ends of me until I struggle to pull in a full breath.
His forearm settles between my breasts as he holds me in place, the pleasure so profound that I struggle to keep my eyes open, to maintain focus.
A groan vibrates against my back, hot breath across my scalp, teeth pinching my flesh.
I’m barely holding on, my core contracting around his invading cock.
The world implodes behind my eyes as I come again, wringing myself on Doc’s cock and how he nudges against the ends of me. My body spasms, I’ve lost control, and finally I give into it. The pleasure is a heavy wave.
Everything stills, and slowly I return to the office, to the three men who take care of me, protect me, and punish me.
Gaping and gasping, I’m rewarded with Doc’s gentle strokes before he releases his hold, lowering me back to the desk and rubbing my tense muscles before he relinquishes me to Saint.
Doc hasn’t come yet either.
I’m in so much trouble, while having so little strength left.
But when Saint’s arms come around me, I don’t feel tired. Not with the way he pivots me in his arms and slants his mouth across mine. His kiss is all consuming. All I can do is hold on, hands grasping at his shirt even though I don’t need to do anything to support myself.
My husband has me.
Gathered in his arms, he sits and settles me in his lap, his jeans rough against the sensitive insides of my thighs.
“Take me out.” His gruff command makes me shiver.
I reach between us to unbutton his jeans, lower his zipper, and wrap my hand around his straining cock. So hard. Throbbing against my palm.
Saint’s hands cup my ass, a small pat as instruction. “Up.”
I lift myself as much as possible.
“Lower yourself on me like a good girl.”
The order makes me wetter—if that’s even possible. It takes two tries, swiping him through my folds before I can notch him in place. Working myself down on him takes a few thrusts and practically all my reserves before I sink down over him.
The stretch is exquisite.
Saint cups my face, searching my gaze for a long moment. “Mmm. Still not repentant, are you, wife? This is going to be one hell of a lesson for you.”
The threat is soft, similar to when he spanked me. This is an outlet for his worries.
How badly did he react when he knew I’d been gone? Did he have time to worry? Really? With Sin right behind me?
If he hadn’t been, I imagine this would all be so much worse.
Saint’s forearm is a hard band across my lower back, rough palm at the back of my thigh, and his hips pump up once, twice, thrice, and I’m shaking already.
His legs spread to maintain our balance as he rocks us together, forehead to mine.
I thought he might take me angrily, but I should have known better. For all his bark, all his bite, he cradles me against him like I’m something precious. Something more than the wife forced upon him by circumstance.
As gentle as he is with me, he’s relentless in his aim to ring out another orgasm from my overheated, abused core.
