Page 35 of Reckless Love

Shoving away the tight boxer briefs that just molded to his length, his cock bobbed free. He fisted the base in his hand, dark eyes glittering and hooded as he gave himself a few strokes. “Fuck, what you do to me, baby.”

“Yeah?” I barely recognized my breathy tone.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, crawling over my body and fitting himself between my splayed thighs like we’d been made for one another. Balancing his weight on a forearm, he swiped a finger up my slit, gathering slick moisture that he pressed to my lips. “Taste how fucking perfect you are.”

I parted my mouth, tentatively tasting myself on his finger. I bit the tip of his finger, and he jerked back with a smirk. He tapped the tip of my nose before brushing a sweet kiss across my lips. “Little minx.”

I whimpered into his mouth as he kissed me, all the while feeling the heavy weight of his cock between my legs. I rocked my hips, coating his length in my arousal, but it wasn’t enough.

“Need something?” Wick’s tone was teasing as he peppered kisses across my chest, my neck, my face.

“Yes,” I huffed.

His teeth grazed my jaw. “Feel free to tell me—in detail—about your needs.”

“You mean you don’t have a list of my needs in your research?” I teased back, biting back a smile.

He lifted his head, then cocked it. “Fair enough.”

I was about to giggle when he thrust into me. My breath left my lungs in a dizzying whoosh as I felt him stretch me to the limit.

“How are those needs now, baby?” He pulled out to the tip before plunging back in.

My inner muscles fluttered around him, my nerves pinging like a bag of pop rocks being dumped in soda. I gripped his shoulders, breathless and feeling a familiar tightness coiling low in my belly.

“Fuck,” I whispered as he pounded into me, his hips setting a brutal pace that threatened to have me shattering into tiny fragments of utter bliss.

“That’s my girl,” Wick rumbled, a talented finger rubbing the side of my clit. “So fucking tight. My perfect girl. My wife.”

I toppled over the edge with a hoarse cry, expecting Wick to fall with me.

But he didn’t.

He rode me through my orgasm until it started anew, this time sharper. Like teetering on the edge of a razor. Words ceased to have meaning as my brain was saturated with endorphins.

Wick pressed his lips against my ear. “Be my good girl and come for me again, wife.” He pinched the bundle of nerves, and I flew, screaming his name.

His hips pumped into me twice before he came with a roar of his own, jerking inside of me as he filled me with his hot release.

Collapsing on top of me, Wick pressed a kiss to my shoulder. His weight was delicious, pressing me into the mattress. All too soon, he rolled onto his side, slipping from the mess between my legs.

“Sorry,” he murmured, pushing up to one elbow with a wry grin. “Didn’t mean to smother you.”

“I didn’t mind,” I admitted, turning onto my side to face him.

His gaze held mine, neither of us speaking as we took our time basking in the afterglow.

Wick pushed my hair off my shoulder, then stroked down my arm in a gentle caress. It was like he couldn’t stop touching me. Couldn’t stop watching me.

And I found that I rather liked the idea of Warwick Forrester looking at me, touching me, for the rest of our lives.

Epilogue

ONE YEAR LATER

“Stop staring at me,” I ordered my husband, meeting his eyes in the vanity mirror while fastening a diamond pendant around my neck.

Wick grinned, looking the epitome of tall, dark and sexy in a tuxedo as he leaned against the doorframe of the massive walk-in closet that doubled as my dressing room. “Can’t help it, baby. You’re fucking stunning.”

---