Page 65 of His Wild Seduction

“Kiss me, Wife,” I murmured and pressed my lips to hers.

She opened for me like a flower begging for a bit of rain, and I answered her call. Letting her taste the release that still clung to my lips.

I poured everything I had into that kiss. Everything I felt for her. And for the first time in years, I felt complete.

Then I moved. Her hands clutched at my sides. The sharp bite of her nails was drugging. Adding just the right amount of pain to the immeasurable pleasure soaring through me.

Every stroke grew heavier, harder, more intense until I felt like this was more than fucking.

More than sex.

This was a claiming.

A total fucking branding.

Meredith was mine.

All mine.

No one else’s.

“You’re mine, Little Red. Tell me,” I demanded.

I felt her nod, her lips pressed against my throat as I worked my body over hers, pressing my cock so deep I didn’t know where she ended, and I began.

“Words. I need the words. Tell me you’re mine. No other man’s. Just mine,” I growled.

My wife was so fucking good at doing what I asked. So good at taking directions. I just needed her to take one more.

I needed her to accept my claim.

“Yours. I’m yours, Husband. No one else’s. And you’re mine,” she groaned, scratching me, marking me with her nails.

“Fuck.”

I was hers. She said it.

And I never realized until that moment how much I needed to hear that.

I spread her legs wider, lifting them over my forearms as I pounded into her. I rutted her up the mattress until we were right against the headboard.

I used one hand to stop her head from banging into it.

I should have done more.

I should have moved or something.

But I couldn’t stop fucking her.

My body was on a mission.

To claim and be claimed. To imprint myself on her fucking soul.

I felt my balls tighten. I was so damn close.

Her tits were bouncing, and the tips were pebbled so tight. I dropped my head and sucked on one, earning me another long groan from my wife.

She was so goddamn beautiful. Her expression was so raw, so wanton.

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