Page 59 of Sins of Arrogance

As much as she clearly likes see­ing me taste her, the blush across her chest turns rosy red.

Fuck me, I want more.

I want in­side her.

Now. Not in a month or two af­ter she’s got­ten preg­nant. Now.

My con­trol – which un­til this very mo­ment I would have said was ab­so­lute – is fray­ing by the sec­ond.

And it’s her fault.

She’s not sup­posed to be like this. Sen­sual, sweetly re­spon­sive and ut­terly wrecked by a sin­gle fin­ger. She’s sup­posed to be a means to an end. A con­di­tion. A clause.

In­stead, she’s temp­ta­tion wrapped in skin softer than silk. She’s heat and in­no­cence, and I’m a man who knows how to take what he wants.

But not this.

Not yet.

With her­culean ef­fort, I stay where I am and grab her hand.

“Now, it’s your turn,” I say roughly, drag­ging her hand to my cock.

She blinks at me, that blush surg­ing into her cheeks now. “I don’t know what to do.” She swal­lows, her fin­gers flex­ing. “I read books, but…” Her voice trails off.

The smile I give her has noth­ing to do with hu­mor. “Don’t worry, a stór, I’ll show you.”

I wrap her small hand around my girth. Her fin­gers don’t touch, but I cover her hand with my own and press to get the pres­sure I like.

Pre­cum drools from my cock­head, slid­ing down to wet her fin­gers. I guide her hand up and over my head, then back down, lu­bri­cat­ing my dick with my own pre­cum.

An idea forms and as fast as it does, I act on it, reach­ing be­hind me to soak my hand with her essence.

Kara cries out, her hips cant­ing.

But I shake my head. “Not yet, greedy girl. You’ve al­ready come.”

Mul­ti­ple times.

“Now it’s your turn,” she re­peats my words back to me.

I spread her juices over my dick, slid­ing un­der her fin­gers and around them. “Bleedin’ right it is.”

Then I swipe my fore­fin­ger across my leak­ing tip and press it to her bot­tom lip.

She gasps, the sound small and star­tled.

Tak­ing ad­van­tage of her parted lips, I slip my fin­ger in­side. “Taste me.”

She doesn’t hes­i­tate, slid­ing her tongue around my fin­ger and hum­ming.

Feckin’ hell. She likes it.

Then she blushes and tries to turn her head away. I’m not hav­ing it. I keep her in place with my fin­ger once again buried in her wet heat. Only this time, it’s her hun­gry mouth in­stead of her hun­gry pussy.

“Don’t be shy.” I wrap my other mitt around hers again. “You’re my wife now, aren’t you? This is yours.”

Some­thing flares in her eyes at that.