Page 42 of Secret Marriage To My Bosshole

I shove the rest of his clothing away, my legs shaking as an orgasm starts to build.

Griffin moves his lips to my neck, sucking on the sensitive spot just below my ear.

I grind into his hand as my orgasm rocks through me.

“Make me come, Griff, please.”

Griffin groans as I wrap my hand around his cock. I squeeze it hard as I come, sliding my hand up and down until he is rolling his hips into me.

“Fuck, Cora, I love how wet you get for me.” He grabs my ass and picks me up, pinning me between the wall and his body.

The head of his cock presses against my pussy. Griffin’s lips press against mine, coaxing my mouth open as he slides his cock into me.

My pussy clenches around him as my back arches off the wall. I lock my ankles behind his back, holding onto his shoulders as he slams into me.

I dig my nails into his shoulders, holding on as he kisses his way down my chest. Griffin moans, grinding into me with every thrust.

He pulls one of my nipples into his mouth, taking it between his teeth until I’m writhing against him.

“Yes.” I roll my hips in time with his thrusts, needing more.

Lust rolls through my body in waves as Griffin’s cock throbs inside me.

“Fuck, come for me, Cora.” Griffin’s voice is raspy. He grazes my earlobe with his teeth, driving himself into me deeper.

I come hard and fast, holding onto him as he keeps thrusting. His thrusts slow, and he stiffens, his orgasm following mine.

My chest heaves as he pulls out and sets me on the ground with a wicked smile. “Well, we made it off the porch.”

“Barely.” I grin and take his hand, already tugging him toward the bathroom. “We should get cleaned up.”

Griffin laughs and pulls me back into him, his cock hardening again against the small of my back. “I can’t promise I won’t fuck you again in the shower.”

As we get into the steaming shower, I know I won’t be leaving his bed for the rest of the day.

Chapter fourteen

Griffin

I can’t believe I’m spending a Sunday morning trying to make maple, Brie, and pecan crepes while Cora sleeps in my bed upstairs.

I used to think there was no way I would spend the weekend cooped up at home with a woman, let alone attempt a fancy breakfast in bed for her.

Yet, the thought of making breakfast for my wife is growing on me.

I shoot a glare at the flour as it scatters everywhere. “Of course. Why would it be simple and clean?” I talk to myself.

With a sigh, I empty the flour into the mixing bowl and then roll the top of the bag. As I tuck the bag back into the cupboard, more flour spills out of a crack, covering my shirt.

Soft footsteps pad down the hall as I crack eggs into the bowl.

Cora appears in the doorway, wearing one of my old university shirts. The shirt is a faded burgundy, which only brings out the freckles scattered across her nose.

It’s still hard to believe she's willing to give us a chance despite all that transpired between us.

I’ll make sure she knows that trusting me isn’t a mistake.

She looks beautiful as she scrapes her hair up into a messy bun and takes a seat at the kitchen island.

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