Page 52 of Perfect Boy

Stopping inches from me, he reaches for the hem of my sweatshirt. But when his eyes narrow on the front, he scowls. “How the fuck did I not notice this at Peaches?” he growls. “You’re wearing a Brooks football sweatshirt? For real?”

I bite my lip nervously. It was a gift from Denton back when we were dating. And it’s not like I have boatloads of clothes in my closet. So, I’m not about to throw away a perfectly good sweatshirt just because my douche of an ex gave me it. It’s still in good shape.

I shrug. “Yeah. Why? It isn’t like it has Wells on the back or something.”

“It’s a good fucking thing too.”

He takes the center of the hem and pulls. After a few seconds, it tears, and he continues ripping it until the front is completely torn. He pushes it off my shoulders, and as it falls to the floor, he looks satisfied.

“That belongs in the fucking trash,” he grumbles. “Denton’s a fucking loser, Ryann. Don’t wear his shit. Not while you’re my wife.”

My mouth hangs open, and I stomp my foot. “Watson! What the hell?! Now, what am I going to wear home?”

“My shirt, Tiny Dancer. Because I’m your fucking husband.”

When he kneels, pulling my shoes off, my head grows fuzzy. After he rolls my leggings off me, he sets them to the side. But not before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my thigh and gazing up at me.

“You’re too beautiful to wear Denton’s shirt, Ryann. He wasn’t worthy of you then. He certainly isn’t now.”

Slowly standing up, he turns away from me and steps into the spa. The steam rolls from it and into the air, clouding the vision of him. And seconds later, I’m right behind, climbing in a spot on the opposite side. Because if I get too close to my husband, I’m going to end up jumping his bones. Which would be good and all, but this is a public place.

We sit in silence, the tension between us so thick that it’s hard to breathe. I wonder if he feels it too. There’s no way he doesn’t. Especially when it feels like my entire body is on fire.

A person can only hold so much willpower inside of them before they give in to temptation. Watson is my temptation.

Right now…my husband is what I want.

Watson

Fuck. The way Ryann’s tits are practically begging me to play with them is making my dick so hard that even in this hot tub, I can’t relax. I reach down to adjust myself, and it doesn’t help a bit. The things this woman does to me, it’s unreal.

I want her so badly that it’s all I can think about. I was so close to fucking her at Peaches, but I didn’t want to do it there. The next time we have sex, it’ll be our first time as a married couple. It should be special. It should be perfect.

Then again, I’m so desperate to have her pussy wrapped around my greedy cock that I don’t know if I can wait. Especially when I know she wants it just as badly. It’s not hard to tell with the way her body shook when I peeled her leggings down. Or how her nipples pebbled when I undressed her. I wanted nothing more than to bury my face between her legs and let her soak my tongue. But somehow, I got myself together and didn’t eat her like a cupcake.

“You’re so far away,” I drawl slowly, looking at her through the steam. “I’m lonely over here without you.”

“Then, what’s stopping you, Gentry?” she coos, her eyes glimmering with mischief.

Swimming toward her, I stop just before I reach her legs. Reaching for her thighs, I swallow. “How’s your leg feeling?”

“Surprisingly better.” Her voice is raspier than usual, and gradually, she puts her hands over mine.

Moving my palms upward, I stop when my fingertips are touching the sides of her asscheeks. Leaning forward, I bring my lips to hers and kiss her.

She doesn’t hesitate at all. Her mouth is desperate for mine, and I slip my tongue inside. Like the greedy girl she is, she sucks it into her mouth, and fuck if that doesn’t make me imagine her sucking on my cock too.

I part her legs and brush my hand between them. Pushing her thong to the side, I slip one finger and then two inside, pumping them in and out slowly at first, working faster as my thumb circles her clit.

“Watson,” she cries, a strangled moan.

“My baby is so fucking needy,” I growl against her lips before removing my hand and bringing her to the edge of her seat. The head of my cock brushes the soaked fabric of her thong, begging to be inside of her.

“You’re so fucking hot, Ryann,” I snarl against her lips. “Jesus Christ, you make my cock so hard.”

I look above her, and a sly smile takes over my face when I see a small hook on the wall. Unclasping her bra, I reach for her hands and tangle the bra around them like a makeshift restraint. I pull the fabric tighter, keeping her wrists together snugly. “Hands up, baby.”

She puts her hands above her head, and I waste no time hooking the fabric to the small metal hook, keeping her arms straight up.

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