Page 61 of Married to the Frenemy

I moan, all the tension that’s been building between us over the past several weeks, hell… years, evaporating as his tongue traces patterns against my clit.

“Goddamn, Haley. You’re even more delicious than I remember. I fucking love the taste of your pussy. Can’t get enough of it.”

I tug on his silky hair, grinding against him as he eases a finger inside, pleasure flooding through my veins.

“Tell me what you need now,” he pants. “My mouth is on you. My fingers are inside you.” He slips in another finger as he increases his rhythm, the sound of my slickness filling the space. “What do you need next?”

“I need you to make me come. I need to come so damn bad, Beckham.”

“And I need to make you come so damn bad. Been fantasizing how you’d feel for too long now.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Make me come, Beckham. And don’t you dare stop until you do.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He returns his mouth to me, his tongue circling my clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

When he twists his fingers to hit that spot only he’s found before, I detonate around him, my body convulsing through the most intense orgasm that leaves me gasping and shaking. But he doesn’t stop, savoring every drop of pleasure as I writhe beneath him.

As my tremors slowly subside, he drags himself back up my body, his mouth crashing against mine in a heated frenzy.

“This doesn’t seem fair,” I whine once I catch my breath.

“What’s doesn’t?”

“I’m naked.”

He bites his lower lip, his eyes flaming with lust. “And I love that about you.”

“But you’re not.”

“You have already seen the goods.”

“True.” I curve toward him, dragging my tongue down his neck. “But I haven’t touched the goods. Not in years. And Beckham?”

“Yes?” His voice cracks.

I run my fingers through his hair, my nails digging into his scalp. “I really want to touch. I need to touch. Need to feel you inside me. Need to watch you lose control.” I grab his face and force his eyes to mine. “I need you to fuck your wife.”

“My wife,” he growls, the animalistic tone causing a primal hunger to stir inside of me.

A hunger for this man to claim me. To own me. To possess me.

“Yes, Beckham. Your wife.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

BECKHAM

I slam my lips against Haley’s, her sweet voice calling her my wife making me forget all the reasons this is a bad idea. I swore I wasn’t going to cross this line with her. That I could be stronger than this, knowing what’s at stake.

But when a tiny whimper escapes her throat, that’s the last thing on my mind.

The only thing that is on my mind is giving Haley everything she’s been deprived of for too long.

And everything I’ve deprived myself of for too long.

With a growl, I tear my mouth from hers and stand, ripping my t-shirt over my head in one swift motion. As I drop it onto the floor, her appreciative gaze sweeps over every inch of my physique. I guess one good thing to come from prison followed by years of manual labor is that it’s forced me to stay in shape.

I keep my eyes glued to hers as I slowly unfasten my belt and pull it from the loops with a sharp jerk. The sound echoes in the room, drowning out our heavy breaths as I lower the zipper on my jeans and push them down along with my boxer briefs.

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