Page 126 of Force Play

Taking my time I slide my hands back up her legs, stopping where her jersey meets the tops of her thighs. I pinch the fabric of her jersey between my fingers. “Undo the buttons for me, but leave it on while I decide how I want to fuck you.” My voice is gruff and demanding, in complete opposition to how I sit at her feet.

Her eyes fall to the buttons as she works them free, one by one. Each one that comes undone is the most exquisite form of torture and with my hands still on the backs of her legs, I can tell it has the same effect on her. Goosebumps blossom across her stomach and heat radiates off her as undoes the last one.

“Fuck, Baby, you’re stunning.” Brushing my thumbs over her hip bones, I split the jersey. All the bruising has faded, the shots, the appointments, the procedure is nothing more than a memory. With her in nothing more than a few scraps of dark teal lace, it’s easy to forget that she still has another round of stimulation and retrieval before her upcoming surgery. “It almost seems a shame to bend you over this desk and take you from behind.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath that makes her stomach cave in as I kiss a path up her torso, coming to my full height in front of her. Dark curls fan out, tickling my chin as I spin her around in my arms and walk towards the desk. My hands don’t leave her body, finding the swell of her breast and the curve of her hip. Neither does my nipping at the crook of her neck and dragging a soft moan out of her on the way.

Both of us are breathing hard, panting from how badly we need this. I thread my fingers through hers and place them palm down on the desk. “Stay like that while I look at my wife and decide if this is how I want her.”

Glazed over brown eyes find me over her shoulder as I step back. Ignoring the pull to be close to her, I run my hand over my jaw and I take her in. Dark curls stick out in all directions, swollen red lips from kissing on the ride up here, those five letters sewn on her back, but the thing I can’t tear my eyes from is that ring on her finger. The one that should have been there from day one.

My wife is wild, a force of nature, and she looks it right now, her legs spread and her hands on the desk as she waits for me to decide how to fuck her. “Is this how you want me?” It’s a dare, a test of my willpower.

“Hard to say.” I step in close again, my hands going to her waist, and my fingers dipping under the teal lace riding high on her hips. “I think I need a closer look. Take these off and sit on the desk for me.”

Desire slashes through me when she presses her hips back, the globes of her ass brushing over the hard length of me as she shimmies out of her undies. She reaches back, sliding them in my pocket and spins so she’s facing me.

Climbing on to the desk, she bats her eyelashes and asks, “Like this?” This woman is toying with me, sitting on the desk, naked from the waist down, her knees pressed together. So much has changed since we met, but this hasn’t. And hope it never does, she still loves to give me a hard time every chance she gets.

“Spread your legs, wife. Show me how wet you are waiting for my cock.”

Not one to back down, Indie pins her plump lip between her teeth and smooths both hands down her thighs, stopping when she gets to her knees and parting her legs for me. Keeping those big brown eyes glued to me the whole damn time.

Without missing a beat she covers her pussy with her hand blocking my view and slips a finger inside her heat. Her breath shudders as she pumps it in and out a few times her eyes roll back. One of us whimpers at the suctioning sound it makes when she pulls it away and I couldn’t even tell you who made the desperate noise.

My fingers circle her wrist, holding her hand captive and lowering my head to suck the slick digit into my mouth. This time I’m certain it’s me that makes the appreciative sound. How could it not be? I’ve spent more time on my knees for this woman. She’s the prayer on my lips each night, the cause I fight for, my whole damn universe. And she tastes like heaven on my tongue.

“This is a start. Maybe I’ll camp out here between your legs for a while, getting my fill and then take you on the bed, that perfect ass up in the air, before I strip you bare and make love to you the way I’ve been dying to since the moment you said I do.”

“Less talking, more doing.” She sucks on her cheek, her eyes lit with the thrill of this game we play with each other.

“Would you like a hand necklace to go with that mouth? Or maybe I’ll stuff your mouth full of my fingers so you can’t interrupt my meal.”

“If that’s meant to be a threat, it’s not working.” Opening her legs up wider, she leans back, nodding toward the floor. “Unless you’re waiting for me to leave a puddle on this desk, so the hotel staff knows exactly what we got up to.”

“Fuck me,” I say, once again I find myself on my knees for my wife. With one hand between her legs, the other wraps around the slender column of her neck and holds her like that, zeroing in on the spot that makes her clamp down on my fingers.

“Oh god, Dom,” she whimpers, her hand covering mine, holding it there as her pulse pounds under my grip. “I need you,” she pants, her body shaking now like she’s trying to hold out.

With one last long languid lick, I remove my fingers from her hot center and lift her from the desk carrying her to the bed. “Ass up. Show me how badly that pussy wants to be filled.” I make a show of slowly undressing as she gets into position, her face turned to the side so she can watch.

It’s obscene, wild curls sticking to her face, my jersey riding up her back, swollen sex on display for me. And she’s just as affected as I am, her chest heaves with the effort to keep it together just waiting to be filled.

“Please.” It’s a plea that I can’t ignore. Fisting my cock, my knees hit the end of the bed. Her back arches that whimpered cry, turning into a feral moan when I run my knuckles over her dripping seam.

“Please what?” I ask, my fingers kneading the flesh of her ass.

When she doesn’t tell me what she needs, my hand comes down on her cheek, spurring her to cry out, “Fuck me.”

“Was that a request or a reaction?”

“Both,” she whines, pressing into the palm of my hand as it smooths over the red mark.

“Good, because I need to be inside you.”

“Condom.” She reminds me when my crown brushes over her center. There’s a flash of sadness in her eyes.

“It’s keeping you safe. So you can be old and wrinkly with me,” I whisper, pushing the hair off her shoulder, where her jersey is sliding down her arm, and kiss the tattoo that wraps over it.

---