Page 15 of Golden Rule

His teeth sink into his lip with another smile. “I’ll take it, smart-ass.”

He leans down to place a kiss on my forehead, then my chin. As I stare up, focused as he hovers over me, caging me between his inked arms, I’m overcome with impatience. West casts a slow glance down my torso when I reach between our bodies, slipping one hand inside his pants.

“That sure as hell doesn’t feel like pity,” he teases. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want this as much as I do.”

I shrug, still playing along. “Nah, I’m just a good actress.”

His lips part, and I’m guessing it’s to shoot back another smart remark, but he never gets that far. When his eyes slam shut, and his mouth falls slack at the feel of my hand moving up and down his cock, I think I’ve officially quieted him.

My husband, the perpetual shit-talker.

“Fuck me,” I whisper.

He’s throbbing in my hand. I push my thumb over his tip, reveling in the sound of a soft hum leaving his lips as I repeat my demand.

“Fuck. Me.”

He doesn’t respond with words, but leans closer, sucking my tongue into his mouth as his heart races against mine. Then, a moment later, he shows me that my command hasn’t gone unheard.

There’s a brief pause when he leans away, but it’s only to push his sweats down his toned hips with one hasty motion. The feel of his smooth, bare skin against the insides of my thighs drives me crazy, frustrated because he’s still not inside me.

“Hurry,” I breathe against him.

I’m relieved that he’s now urgently gripping his cock, nudging it against my slick entrance. But not nearly as relieved as when I feel the sweet ache of him thrusting into me.

He rests on his forearms, bringing his face close to mine.

“You’re so impatient,” he rasps, kissing me again. “And you know I fucking love that shit.”

He’s right. Idoknow he loves it—loves seeing how insane it makes me when I have to wait for what I need. And for so many years now, he’s beenallI’ve needed.

His back flexes in rhythm as he grinds into me. I measure each and every movement, charting smooth flesh and muscle as I lower both hands to the firmness of his ass. He pushes in deeper, and a whimper leaves me. His entire body is a work of art, and there has only ever been one word I can think of to convey perfection of this level.

Magnificent.

Today was filled with so many conflicting emotions—excitement, sadness, uncertainty, anger. But somehow, clinging to him like my life depends on it, West has washed it all away.

I needed this. The closeness, the escape.

He reaches for my thigh, locking his arm behind the bend of my knee, hiking it toward the headboard until I feelevery-fucking-thing—the entire length of his cock plunging into me, how he stretches me to the hilt. With each powerful thrust, I lose my breath, and there’s no hiding what he does to me.

Which is the same thing he’salwaysdone to me…

Drive me out of my damn mind.

“West—”

His name is nothing more than a whisper on my lips, and when he kisses my chin, pumping into me, I’m a quaking mess beneath him the next second, coming hard and loud as I grip his ass tighter. His heartbeat doubles where it thunders against me, and before my own climax fades, a deep grunt falls from his perfect lips.

“Damn it. You’re so… fucking…”

Nothing he says makes much sense in the moment, but I don’t need him to make sense to understand. As I feel the last traces of tension leave his body, I know exactly what he couldn’t quite put into words.

He needed this break from the bullshit.

He needed this release.

He neededme.

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