Page 110 of Outcast’s Vow

“You’re getting none of that today. I’m being sincere, girl. Can a man not compliment his beautiful wife?”

“Oh, you can keep complimenting me forever,” I say. “Especially like that.”

He smiles.

“I plan to.”

“Baptiste?”

“Yes?”

My hand slides down the space between us under the bedsheets until I find his cock.

“Compliment me again.”

He instantly hardens at my touch. Like he’s always ready for me. My man raises an eyebrow.

“Blackmail, is it?”

“Something like that,” I purr as I begin stroking his erection.

The man lets out a groan. It’s deep, but it’s oh-so-vulnerable. He wouldn’t ever make a sound like that anywhere else but in the safety and privacy of a bed next to his wife.

“Have I told you how much you turn me on?” he asks, gasping slightly as I continue to tease him with my hand.

“Once or twice.”

He inhales, composure unthreading in my hand.

“It’s not just your body,” he says like every word hurts. “It’s the way you move. It’s the way you see me, woman.”

“More.”

“It’s the way you never back down. It’s when you’re pissed at me and you’re frowning, but you still look so damn sexy that I want to scoop you up and ruin you, even as you bark at me. It’s the way I always feel the need to unwrap you like a present and figure out every part of you.”

“Keep going, husband. Keep going.”

“It’s the way you smile. The way you sleep. The way you walk. The way you even fucking breathe.”

Each word fills my soul.

And I reward him for everything he’s saying. I’m stroking him rhythmically. I can feel him twitching.

He’s so close. So very near to finishing. And I know that all it will take is for me to prompt him over the edge.

“One more compliment, one more thing,” I say, my eyes remaining fixed on his. “Tell me what I do to you.”

“All the time you... just... you just... drive me so fucking crazy.”

And then Baptiste erupts into my hand. I gasp as I feel his desire run up my arm. Hot and heavy and so very, very sexy.

Baptiste groans. Spent.

“You know how to make me weak, Sylvie Tremblay.”

* * *

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, half an hour later, looking out of the window at the city below. Baptiste lies wrapped in the sheets behind me, a single finger reaching out to gently draw circles on my bare back.