I run my hand up into her hair, clenching it into a fist at the nape of her neck. The first hard thrust has her gasping. Her brow pinches, and I stop.
“Too much?”
“No.” She moans, and presses her hips back against me. “It’s just deep. Please don’t stop.”
I fuck her in a slow, steady rhythm, determined to keep that pace and make this last. At first she’s pliant, letting me guide this, one hand in her hair, the other on her hip. Beads of sweatspring up over her skin, glistening in the dimmed light. Then she starts to roll her hips towards me, meeting my strokes. Her movements become more and more demanding, and she feels so good, it’s hard to maintain control.
“Harder,” she begs. “Please, do it harder.”
I pull her up by her hair, pressing my mouth against her shoulder. My other hand skates down her stomach, my fingers finding her soaked clit. She cries out, so loud, one hand reaching behind her to anchor herself to my waist, the other braced against the couch. My strokes aren’t as deep now, but the angle is so tight that I know I won’t last much longer.
Sweat glides down her back as she moans, and she turns her head against my grasp in her hair. Her lips hover against mine, her breathing ragged.
“Fuck,” she murmurs. “Ohfuck.”
Her face as she comes is mesmerising. She’s beautiful, beautiful and wild in my arms, her body trembling and my name falling from her lips. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can hardly breathe, but deciding between fucking her until I spill inside her or dying, well, the choice is simple.
The heat in my groin becomes unbearable, and I press my mouth against her throat as electricity shoots through my thighs. Then, with a loud groan, I’m coming, so much that I flood out of her, running down her legs.
“Mia,” I murmur against her skin. “Mia, you’re perfect.”
She stays there in my arms for a minute, slumped and satisfied. And I should feel guilty, all over again. I catch our reflection in the window, and I can’t bring myself to feel shame. Not when this woman is here with me. She looks sorightwith me. Like this is where she was always meant to be.
21
MIA
Wakingup in Dominic’s arms is blissful. The rain is still beating against the windows, the sky dark and drab, and I snuggle into his warmth, not ready to face the morning just yet. He mutters something in his sleep, his arms tightening around me.
I should feel bad, shouldn’t I?
Two days ago, I told my husband I wanted a divorce. Now I’ve fucked his father five times in the past 36 hours. I don’t know what that makes me, or what it says about me that I don’t even feel a bit guilty.
All I can think about is how perfect the evening was. After eating our dinner - which, amazingly enough, didn’t burn - we lay on the couch and watched the rain as we drank wine.
Eventually this turned into a long and heated kissing session, which inevitably led to Dom fucking me on his couch a second time. After a shower, we agreed it was time for bed, but lying naked together proved too tempting. Dom ate me out until I was practically screaming, a favour I was more than happy to return by sucking his cock until he forced me off him and threw me down on the bed so he could come inside me.
What a night.
Thinking about it all makes me squirm in his arms, heat and longing building between my thighs.
I shuffle until I’ve turned over in his arms to face him, and he stirs, his brow pinching as I pepper kisses over his chest. His fingertips trace over my shoulders, and he huffs out a soft, pleased groan.
“Morning,” he mutters, chuckling sleepily as I push against him and roll him onto his back. “Averygood morning.”
I straddle his hips, and his erection grows as I grind myself against him, holding his face in my hands and kissing him all over. He grips my arse with a sigh.
“I thought you were a dream,” he murmurs. “Maybe you are.”
“I am a dream. A very nice dream.” I kiss his neck, his collarbone, move back up to his mouth, and kiss him deeply.
“Mmm, the best dream,” he says against my lips.
He’s hard now, and I sit up, reaching between us to fit him at my entrance, sinking down onto him with a moan. His jaw feathers as his hands dig into my hips.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he says as I roll my hips.
I’m a little sore, but I can live with it. Being with him in the light of day feels different, even though we’re in his bedroom tucked away from the world. This makes it feel real in a way our clandestine nights didn’t.
