Page 16 of Ever After All

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly when I realized he was going to wait until I spoke. “I can’t seem to bring myself to insist on some kind of divorce.”

“Some kind of divorce? Is there more than one kind?” he asked lightly.

“You know what I mean. I’m just not sure what to do.”

“We see how it goes. If you don’t want anyone to know, then it’s a little harder to see how it goes,” he pointed out.

I managed to breathe. “I know. If everyone knows, they’ll all have opinions, and I just want enough time to sort things out privately.”

I thought he might argue the point on that, but he didn’t. “I get it.” He paused. At that moment, it felt like the air came alive, brimming with energy. His eyes darkened. “So right now I’m gonna bend you over and fuck you on that table. I’m also gonna take you home tonight and make sure you know that what we have is more than that.”

Sweet hell. My knees nearly gave out. I felt a gush of moisture between my thighs as I stared up at him. The idea of him bending me over and fucking me on that table was something I wanted so badly I could hardly bear the wait.

“After that, we see each other around town. Nobody will know we planned on seeing each other. We can have coffee together. See each other at locals’ night. And maybe you’ll let me come over and actually spend the night. Something like that.”

His voice softened to a gruff rasp, and the look in his eyes sent my belly into a swoop. What he described was something we could maybe pull off. I wanted it so much I ached with it.

“What do you think about that?” he prompted.

I told the truth even though it made me vulnerable. “I’d like that,” I whispered.

Wyatt’s gaze turned molten. “To clarify, along with everything else, you would like me to bend you over and fuck you.” His eyes flicked to the table immediately beside us.

I swallowed and shifted on my feet. I was so restless to relieve the ache in my very core. My breath was audible because I was that desperate. “Please. Hurry…”

In a fiery second, his mouth was on mine. His hands moved with knowledge and confidence. Wyatt knew my body. He knew how to kindle the need inside me higher and higher. There was something I loved about how he kind of manhandled me. He wasn’t overpowering because that would’ve drawn up resistance in me. He simply took command, and I surrendered to what I knew he would give me.

He nipped the side of my neck, and I whimpered as I arched into him. He unbuttoned my blouse with nimble fingers, his thumb brushing across my nipples through my bra before he boldly sucked one into his mouth right through the silk. The sensation was sharp and piercing, and I cried out.

My hands were doing their own work, mapping his chest under his shirt, dragging over his cock through his jeans. “Hurry,” I repeated.

I unbuttoned his jeans, and he shoved mine down around my hips before he turned me around to face the table. “Bend over, sweetheart.”

I would’ve done anything this man asked. I bent over. The surface of the table was cool on my belly and breasts. My jeans were tight just above my knees, creating a sense of friction between my thighs. I cried out when his fingers delved into the core of me. I was already slippery wet for him, only for him. He murmured something before he withdrew his touch. I heard him say, “Oh, sweetheart.”

A moment later, I heard the sound of a condom wrapper, and again, I said, “Hurry.”

I couldn’t even think when I was with Wyatt. It was all pure need driving me.

I felt the thick press of his crown at my entrance. “Are you sure?” he asked.

As if there was any question.

“Yes, please fuck me,” I demanded.

I felt the press of his fingertips on one hip where he held me in place as he filled me in a swift thrust. I cried out, pressing back into the delicious stretch of him filling me.

His other palm slid up my back. I shimmied back again. “Please…”

His hand slid around my hip, and his fingers teased over my swollen clit as he pumped in and out of me in slow, rolling thrusts. I could hardly bear the friction of the motion with everything pressed tight as I bent over the table with my jeans banded around my knees.

Pleasure spun tighter and tighter, drawing deep to a point I could hardly bear. I heard myself saying his name, begging again. He finally created just a little more pressure over my clit. Sensation rose to a crescendo before it shattered inside me, and I was crying his name as the pleasure spun through me again and again.

I felt him tightening before I heard my name in a ragged cry. He shuddered over me before he curled around me and held me close. I felt sated, safe, and secure.

“I think I love you, Rosie,” he whispered against my neck.

My heart thumped, crying out for me to voice my own feelings. I wasn’t ready, so I simply breathed.

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