Page 58 of Finn

“That settles it. You’ll just have to take me back to our suite and fuck me there like a good, law-abiding citizen.”

“I think it’s time to go then because I don’t know how much longer you can expect me to stare at your ass in this red dress and not flip it up so I can sink inside your pussy.”

Alessia’s eyes flare with unmistakable heat before she spins around in my arms and grabs my hand in hers, yanking me toward the exit. My wife’s sensual appetite knows no bounds, and I’m one lucky son of a bitch for it.

The ride back to the hotel is filled with wantful touches and needy glances. I may have gotten away with fingering her on the plane, but I don’t want to press my luck with it in the limo. We aren’t far from our hotel, and there’s something to be said for building anticipation. Hell, it’s been building in me all day. Especially when she slipped into the red dress I fucking love so much.

When we step into the elevator, I back her against the wall as the door slides shut. I don’t touch her, instead pressing my hands against the wall on either side of her head. Her lips are parted, and her sweet breath tickles my mouth when I lean in close and connect our gazes.

“When we get upstairs, you’re going to stand in front of the window and press your hands to the glass.” I’ve had that image in my head since we walked into the suite earlier today. “You’re not going to say a word. I want you to wait for me and imagine all the things I’m going to do to you against that glass. How hard I’m going to make you come while you look down on all the poor saps who will never be lucky enough to have a woman like you to play with and worship. All those poor souls who’ll never know what it’s like to have a man who would maim and kill anyone who threatened harm to her.”

Alessia’s pupils dilate to the point they nearly block out her moss-green irises.

The elevator door opens into the suite. I push myself off the wall and turn my head, looking back at my wife, who hasn’t moved an inch. Her hand goes to her lower belly as she closes her eyes and blows out a breath through puckered lips.

“I think I gave you an order, wife. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Her eyes open and snap into focus. There’s a touch of defiance that only lasts a moment before she walks to the window and does as instructed. She places her hands on the glass, and I make my way to the bar and fill my glass with ice, then splash a healthy pour of whiskey over it. I usually drink it straight, but I have plans for the freezing cubes that clink in the glass as I bring it to my lips for a sip.

Alessia cranes her neck to watch me and I click my tongue. “I thought I told you to watch all the people outside, wife. You’re not very good at following directions, are you?”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

I lean against the bar and take another sip from my glass as I study the curves of her body and the subtle way her ass is tipped up. I’ve pumped my cock so many times to the memory of her in that dress after we first met that it’s almost embarrassing. She looks even better tonight because I know I’ll be deep inside her before the evening’s over rather than driving home with an ache in my dick like last time.

Her eyes track my movements as I walk over to stand behind her. She still isn’t looking below us. Instead, she’s watching my reflection in the mirror.

“Do you remember our wedding night? How it felt to look over the city we were about to claim as our own?”

“I needed help with my zipper,” she replies on a whisper.

“And I didn’t think I’d ever feel as desperate to touch you as I did that night, but I was wrong. I’m just as desperate, just as consumed with the feel of your skin as I was that night, maybe even more so now that I’ve tasted it.”

My hand brushes the hair from her back over her shoulders before I slowly begin dragging the pull of her zipper down, letting my finger run along her exposed skin. A shiver runs through Alessia, and I smile, loving the sight of what my simple touch does to her.

Grabbing a cube from my glass, I brush it against her neck, then slowly run it down her spine, allowing the heat of her skin to melt the ice as I watch the rivulets of water drip down to her ass. She lets out a hiss at the sensation, her back arching, but she doesn’t move otherwise or tell me to stop. When the ice has nearly melted, I bring it to my mouth and crunch it between my teeth, then bend, dragging my cold tongue up her spine to the back of her neck.

“I love the taste of your skin.”

Alessia turns her head, looking at me over her shoulder, molten desire swimming in her green gaze.

“Slide your dress off,” I tell her.

“You’re quite demanding tonight.” Her teasing voice elicits a growl from my throat.

“And impatient.” I step back a few inches. “Dress. Now.”

Alessia narrows her eyes but doesn’t argue further, instead removing her hands from the glass and slipping the red fabric off her shoulders and over her hips, letting it pool on the ground around her feet. The tiny black lace panties she’s wearing barely cover her round ass.

“You know what else I love, Alessia?”

“Hmm?” She kicks her dress to the side, and I pull her against my chest, her back to my front, before she circles her arms around my neck.

“I love the taste of whiskey and your cunt,” I say, removing another cube of ice from my glass. “In fact”—I slide it across her chest to the valley between her breasts encased in black lace to the top of her matching panties—“when I tasted the two combined on the plane earlier, I decided it was my new favorite flavor.”

Her breaths come in short pants as I run the ice along the skin of her lower belly, watching her eyes fall closed in the reflection of the window. Her thighs are rubbing together, seeking some sort of friction to help alleviate the ache in her center. The movement causes her ass to rub against my hard cock. I’m not sure she’s even aware she’s doing it until I catch the smirk playing on her lips.

“You want to get fucked hard, don’t you, wife?”

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