Page 13 of What's Left of Us

There are days when that temptation to enjoy a woman again almost beats the vows I took eight years ago, but I never let anything come of it. Not even after the divorce was finalized.

No matter how much I want to, no matter how much the need seeded inside of me begs me to stop holding out for hope that something will change, I never stray. What I told the therapist was true. I don’t want to fight for somebody who doesn’t even try to do the same for me.

On the drive home, I let the radio drown out the thoughts swirling in my head with classic rock. When I look at the time illuminating in the darkness, I tap my finger on the top of the steering wheel before cursing under my breath and taking a sudden left.

I may not want to fight, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to feelsomething.

Eight minutes later, I’m turning into a narrow driveway to an apartment building that’s a far cry from the house we used to share.

Despite the time, I knock on the door and wait for the tired brunette to open it with confusion pinching her brows together.

I step inside, pushing Georgia back and closing the door behind me. She’s about to say something, but I grab the back of her head and fist her hair, guiding her to look at me. “Don’t talk.”

Crushing my lips against hers, I back us up until she’s pressed between the erection quickly hardening in my pants, and the drywall. Her hands quickly grip my hips, her pelvis arching forward to gain friction against mine.

Biting into her bottom lip, I swallow her moan and grin when I pull back and see the way her whiskey eyes take me in. “You’re going to do exactly what I say. Do you understand me?”

Her tired expression melts into lust as she nods slowly, a hunger in her eyes that matches my own. “Yes, sir,” she whispers.

“Good girl,” I praise, caressing her cheek. I step back and watch as her chest, covered in a thin piece of fabric that I realize is an old shirt of mine, rises and falls rapidly.

I undo my pants and pull them down far enough to take myself out. “Get on your knees and remind me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

Her eyes flare as she watches me stroke myself, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as I grow in my palm.

When she sinks down on her knees, I bite back the groan as she takes me into her mouth. And damn, do I miss the skill set of her tongue and teeth, teasing me without hurting me, swallowing me without gagging, and pleasuring me without argument.

I run my fingers through her hair, watching her head bob over me with a precision that has my eyes rolling back. I’ll never forget the first time I got to experience her mouth on me.

The thought hardens me, making her choke as I push her down until I can feel the tip of my dick in the back of her throat. When her moans vibrate me, I pull her away and force her up by her hair.

When I see the slick grin on her face, I pull her head back and hover my lips over hers. “Playing games, are we?”

Her eyes sparkle. “Never,” she says coyly.

We both know that’s a crock of shit.

“You know what happens when you play games,” I say, nipping at her lip before stepping back and guiding her to the bedroom. “You get punished.”

I bend her over the bed and slide my hand over her exposed ass cheeks. Opening the pathetic excuse of a closet, I grab a silk scarf that looks as expensive as the rest of her wardrobe and use it to bind her arms so she can’t touch me. Then I grab a belt and wrap it around her waist to give me leverage as I lift up her ass to bring it off the bed and level to my aching dick.

Lifting the oversized shirt she stole from me, I grin when I see she’s not wearing any panties.

“It’s like you knew I was coming,” I praise, closing the distance between me and her pert ass and grazing my nose along the curve of her until I hover over her seam.

Slowly, my tongue finds its way down, down, down until she’s arching her ass up higher as I get closer to where she wants my mouth. I can smell how turned on she is—how badly she wants me.

“Somebody is eager,” I muse, letting my tongue lightly graze over her entrance as I part her for better access.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” she moans, wiggling her hips.

Humming, I kneel behind her on the mattress and press her chest down. “I thought I told you not to talk.”

This time, she’s quiet. “Good.” My knuckles graze the sensitive area between her legs, feeling how ready she is for me. “Were you thinking about this all night? Thinking about me? It feels like you were. You’re so fucking wet, it’s almost pathetic.”

She sucks in a breath when my fingers taunt her core before tweaking the nerves that have another moan escape her.

“I hope you’re ready for me, wife,” I say, positioning myself at her entrance. “Because I’ve had a bad day, and your pussy is about to make it better.”

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