Page 60 of Sins of Arrogance

Pos­ses­sion.

“You like that, don’t you?”

She nods, her teeth slid­ing against my fin­ger. Fuck. I want to feel those teeth on my cock, but that’s for an­other night.

Right now, I’m so hard, a dag­ger’s blade is soft by com­par­i­son. And less deadly.

I show her how to jack me with­out mak­ing me come, be­cause that’s not hap­pen­ing un­til I’m cra­dled be­tween her pil­lowy mounds.

The les­son goes off the rails fast when she grips me too tight, jerk­ing hard and awk­ward but with un­mis­tak­able en­thu­si­asm.

Her move­ments are un­skilled, but hon­est. Un­fil­tered. No prac­ticed tech­nique like past sex part­ners and it’s a fuck­ing turn-on.

I’m no mup­pet, but I’m feel­ing like one as my con­trol threat­ens to shat­ter.

Fuck. I can’t hold back. Giv­ing up on giv­ing my wife her first pearl neck­lace, I stop try­ing to con­trol her move­ments.

Two strokes later, an or­gasm rips through me be­fore I can stop it. Like I’m some fuck­ing teenager with­out any con­trol. Cum erupts from my balls, tear­ing up my pole and shoot­ing out like a feckin’ geyser.

A growl tears from my throat. Then I shout. Her name.

“Kara!” My con­trol dis­in­te­grates in the space of a breath.

White heat.

Blind­ing.

I slam my eyes shut, jaw clenched, rid­ing the wave un­til it ebbs. My body is still twitch­ing when I fi­nally force her hand away.

“Enough,” I snap, harsher than I mean to.

But fuck. I just came like a rocket and all it did was make me want to be in­side her more.

She flinches slightly, pulling her hand back to her chest, smear­ing my cum over her bap, but not the way I wanted to chris­ten those beau­ties.

Shit.

I climb off her be­fore I do some­thing stupid. Like break the clause in the con­tract.

I don’t re­nege on my prom­ises.

Not even for a sexy as fuck vir­gin who just took me apart with the least prac­ticed hand job I’ve ever had.

Go­ing into the bath­room, I clean up quickly, me­thod­i­cally, like I didn’t just lose my mind over a girl who was never meant to mat­ter.

Af­ter wet­ting a thick wash­cloth with warm wa­ter, I carry it back into the bed­room.

Kara’s ex­actly where I left her, lips swollen, eyes ques­tion­ing, skin still flushed with plea­sure. She’s look­ing at me all soft, like I’m some­one I’m not. Like this thing be­tween us is some­thing it can never be.

I should be glad. I spend ev­ery wak­ing minute pre­tend­ing to be the charm­ing Irish­man with emo­tions like ev­ery­one else.

But I’m not.

I think bet­ter of my plan to clean her up with the cloth and toss it at her. “Clean your­self up. I got a text. I need to check it.”

The soft glow in her eyes dims, but she doesn’t ar­gue. Just starts wash­ing my sticky ejac­u­late from her hand.

Fuck. “Don’t use that on your pussy now it’s got my cum on it,” I growl be­fore turn­ing away to check my phone.