Page 75 of Sins of Arrogance

As her mus­cles start jerk­ing un­con­trol­lably with ev­ery flick of my tongue against her clit, I slow my thrust­ing fin­gers. But I don’t stop.

I want to wring an­other cli­max out of her. I need to feel her mus­cles spasm around my fin­gers, her juices soak­ing my chin.

I fuck her with my fin­gers and tongue un­til she comes again, this time cry­ing my name.

Michael.

Her hus­band. Her lover. Her man.

I gen­tle her enough that her thighs fall away from my head and then I stand.

Chap­ter 21: Bound, Bared, & Bailed On

KARA

My most in­ti­mate flesh is still puls­ing when Mick shifts his body so his mus­cu­lar thighs are stretch­ing my legs wide open again.

Mus­cles like jelly, I give him no re­sis­tance.

His shaft bobs thick and an­gry, his pre ejac­u­late mak­ing the bul­bous head glis­ten. He’s so turned on his fore­skin is fully re­tracted and my mouth wa­ters want­ing to taste him.

But that’s not what’s com­ing next and we both know it.

I tug against my re­straints, but I don’t want to be free. I don’t want to go back to hav­ing to think, to hav­ing to be Kara, mob princess.

Right now, like this, I’m pure sen­sa­tion. There is no mask I have to keep up, no fake smile I have to force my lips to make, no per­fect words to say.

It’s just me and Mick. And he wants me raw and open, like I am nowhere else.

My body is re­plete with plea­sure, but I still want more. I need him in­side me.

He presses the tip of his erec­tion against the swollen and sen­si­tized open­ing of my body. “You’re mine, Kara.”

“Yes,” I whis­per, not rec­og­niz­ing my own voice.

His big hands cup my breasts, squeez­ing and play­ing, teas­ing my nip­ples, forc­ing more plea­sure to spark along nerve end­ing that con­nect di­rectly to the puls­ing flesh be­tween my legs.

“You will al­ways be mine.” His voice is gut­tural, his eyes filled with pri­mal pos­ses­sion.

For some rea­son, the agree­ment I know he ex­pects is stuck in my throat.

It’s that word al­ways.

Mick’s right. I need him. But I need so much more than sex, no mat­ter how mind blow­ing. I need to know I come first. I need to be­lieve that if I asked him to take time off to have lunch with me, he’d make it hap­pen.

And I re­ally, re­ally don’t. Be­cause he wouldn’t. Be­cause out­side the bed­room, I’m just not that im­por­tant to him.

Not want­ing the de­mor­al­iz­ing thoughts to im­pinge on this time, I tilt my hips up and let my body an­swer so my mouth doesn’t have to. My slick and swollen folds suck his head in and we both groan.

“Al­ways,” he says, like he knows that’s the word stuck in­side me and then Mick thrusts deep in one harsh surge.

I cry out, the sen­sa­tion too much at first, but he doesn’t let up and I don’t ask him to. There’s no slow buildup this time. He claims me like a man who’s been starv­ing.

His strokes are hard, deep, re­lent­less. Ev­ery thrust sends af­ter­shocks through me. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

He kisses me then, raw and pos­ses­sive. Our tongues tan­gle, the taste of me on his. He kneads my breasts, pinch­ing my nip­ples un­til I moan into his mouth.

“You feel that?”