Page 29 of Sins of Arrogance

“Michael,” she mur­murs.

My con­trol shat­ters. That sin­gle ut­ter­ance tells me she’s not fully asleep.

At least that’s what I tell my­self.

I push my cock deeper into her heat, let­ting her feel the thick­ness of it, the prom­ise of what’s com­ing.

“Mmm…yes…” Her voice is slurred, honey-thick with sleep and sex.

But there’s no fear in it. No hes­i­ta­tion. Only need.

I roll my hips.

Her breath catches. Her body shifts, spine bow­ing as I fill her. Lips part­ing in a soft moan, her eye­lids flut­ter but they don’t open.

“Yes,” she whis­pers again.

Def­i­nitely awake now. Just enough. And she’s still say­ing yes.

“You al­ways want me,” I mur­mur into her hair, thrust­ing once, deep and slow. “Even when you’re sleep­ing.”

Kara tilts her head up, eyes barely open. Dazed. Glow­ing. “Only you,” she breathes.

Fuck.

I start to move, and she pushes for­ward to meet me, sleep-heavy but ea­ger. There’s no rhythm, just in­stinct. Just our bod­ies find­ing the beat we al­ways fall into.

She clutches my shoul­ders. I grab her hip with one hand, slide the other be­tween our bod­ies to cup her tit. She whines when I pinch her nip­ple, louder when I lean down and bite the side of her neck.

“Mine,” I growl.

“Yours,” she gasps, shud­der­ing.

She comes fast, hard, her body clamp­ing around my cock like she’s try­ing to drag me with her.

I let her.

I thrust deep and stay there, groan­ing as I spill in­side her again, my vi­sion go­ing white for a sec­ond with the force of it.

When I come back to my­self, she’s still gasp­ing, still shak­ing. I wrap my­self around her, still in­side, and pull her close like I can keep the world away if I just hold her tight enough.

She drifts off again be­fore I can say a word.

And I lie there in the dark, my arms around my wife, my cock still puls­ing in­side her – and that tight feel­ing in my chest that won’t go away.

I don’t know what it is.

But I know I’d kill to keep it.

Chap­ter 9: High Heels & Low Blows

KARA

I’m en­joy­ing a rare mo­ment of me-time when I hear what has so quickly be­come the un­mis­tak­able har­bin­ger of Dier­dre’s ar­rival.

Click. Click. Click.

It has been four days since Dier­dre’s ar­rival and I am not ashamed to say I have avoided our house­guest as much as pos­si­ble. Be­cause ev­ery time we are alone to­gether, she al­ways gets a dig in.