Page 36 of The Hand that Frays

I roll on my side, slapping her bare pussy. “Careful, stupid wife. I might fuck this pretty pussy again if you leave the option open.”

She moans and lets her legs fall all the way lax.

My cum dips from her entrance, and it’s the most entrancing thing I’ve ever witnessed. My fingers gather some of it and slide toward her asshole with it as a lubricant.

When I shove them inside, and she answers with a languid moan, I know I’m going to be in this forest until dawn. Fucking my stupid girl until the buzz leaves us or our bodies break.

Whichever comes first.

“Alright,”I say, toweling off my hair as I watch Lyla sit at the table with her coffee. “What do we know?”

Lyla sighs. “We know Ada has extensive mental health issues. She’s sexually aroused by watching not only other couples fuck, but her parents. While I agree we need to keep her sexual deviance in mind, we both know where issues like these stem from.”

I slip into sweatpants, tugging them over my boxers as my greedy wife eyes me, running her hungry eyes over my body as I grin at her.

Tossing the towel onto the bed, I close the distance between us, looming over the side of her chair. She still holds her coffee with two hands, something she does to warm her hands. She bites her lower lip as her eyes flutter up toward me.

“How will we ever get work done if you won’t behave?”

“I am behaving, husband.”

I lean down, hovering in her space, in her aura.

Fuck, it’s intoxicating.

“Your eyes weren’t, stupid girl.”

She shrugs. “Can’t help those. They have a mind of their own.”

I lean into her, inhaling her scent before capturing her lips. It’s been mere hours since I fucked her senselessly on the forest floor beyond the asylum we broke into for Ada’s records, and it seems the buzzing between us is still as alive as the first time I encountered my stupid girl in another asylum—one across the pond.

“This will be a family affair, then?” I ask her, pulling away from her as I watch the results of my kiss. Lyla opens her eyes and exhales shakily.

If I were to shove my hand down beneath the T-shirtshe’s wearing, I know I’d find her wet. She’s always drenched for me.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

I drop into a chair across from her. “We’ll need to do this when Ada and her parents are together. If we’re going to sort this out.”

“I don’t know why we have to,” Lyla says, and my eyes snap to her, my brows furrowing.

She realizes what she’s said and purses her lips together, leaning forward to set her coffee far away from the papers splayed on the table so they won’t get ruined if it spills over. “I just mean?—”

I cut her off. “You just mean that if you were in charge, there’d be blood running through the streets of London already,” I finish for her.

She tries to hide a rueful smirk that tugs her pouty fucking lips up at their corners and fails. “I wouldn’t have put it so eloquently, but yes. That’s the gist of it.”

I rub my temples as I growl. “Stupid girl, this is my process. I have to know justice has been served. I don’t know what makes me this way. It’s just who I am.”

When I open my eyes to look at her, she’s gone.

I bristle as her lips graze the shell of my ear. “And I love you for who you are,” she says, and her words simmer an already boiling attraction for her over the sides of the pot it’s in within me.

Even though I have trouble expressing my feelings toward Lyla, I love to hear her express hers.

“What’s your next move, Butcher?” she whispers, tongue darting out, its tip curving along the edge of my ear.

I don’t fight the shiver or the groan it coaxes. “We’regoing to break in. Watch them. Stalk them. We’re going to get every bit of information that we can.”

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