Page 35 of Married With Malice

I think it’s been too long since I’ve been touched at all.

I think I’m far too dizzy with arousal to make any rational choices.

“I think you’re still despicable,” I blurt out.

He’s not upset in the slightest. “Yeah, I’m not always crazy about you either. But it’ll be better that way.”

“Since when is mutual hatred a good thing?”

“Because then nothing is off limits, baby.” His lips brush my bare shoulder. His voice is honeyed lust. “Absolutely nothing.”

The sound I make in response is far too close to a moan.

He’s got me. He knows it. His right hand slides between my legs.

With a gasp and a shudder, I’m already a goner when he hooks his thumb into the elastic of my yellow bikini bottoms. I don’t resist at all when he slowly pushes them down, one inch at a time.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” His middle finger explores the hot crevice between my legs. “And you don’t even know it, do you?”

He strokes. He teases. His finger slides deeper, breaching the slippery folds with ease. He gets no objection from me.

My head rolls back and my eyes squeeze shut. I was wet for him already. Now I’m dissolving, in real danger of sinking to my knees.

“Don’t do that,” Luca scolds. “Open your eyes. Watch how good we look together.”

It’s as if I’m under a spell. A small, horrified piece of my conscience screams at me for following every one of his instructions. The rest of me can’t stop obeying.

I open my eyes. I watch in the mirror.

His middle finger disappears inside me. I’m so wet it’s downright embarrassing. It’ll be even more embarrassing when I come.

And that’s happening soon. VERY soon.

Luca knows his way around. His thumb applies pressure to the most sensitive inch of my body. His finger swirls with tortuous rhythm.

This is insane. This is spectacular. The pressure rises higher. I’m hurtling toward something explosive. There’s no stopping it.

Letting go has always been a problem for me. All the equipment works just fine when I’m the one in control. But when someone else is involved I tend to lose focus. Instinct gets crowded out by reason. Chasing an orgasm becomes a challenge.

There’s no such challenge right now. The end is coming for me no matter what. The fact that Luca Connelly is the one getting me there is a topic to worry about some other time.

“Oh my god. Luca.Fuck.” I hear these words and I’m vaguely horrified to know they belong to me.

My hips jerk involuntarily. My muscles spasm around his finger. My brain empties.

All that’s left is the overpowering demand to ride this wave on and on. I’m quaking and gasping and holding onto the edge of the sink like it’s my only chance for salvation. This level of intensity should be illegal. Every time I feel like I’m at the height, a fresh surge strikes. All other senses are blotted out. I’m somewhere in the stratosphere. Nothing has ever felt so good.

It seems like decades pass before I start to drift back to reality. The aftershocks fade. Luca finally withdraws his hand. My bikini bottoms are stuck halfway down my thighs.

There’s no telling what he has in mind next. Whatever it is, I doubt I’ll be able to summon a complaint.

While I try to catch my breath, I look up to find Luca is patiently waiting. His mouth tilts into a cocky smirk before he sucks on the finger that was just inside me. How mortifying. And so hot.

Now that I’m regaining a connection to sanity, the burn of shame stings my cheeks. I can’t be the only one standing here shaking and dominated. He should have to feel every bit as wrecked as I am.

But Luca removes his finger from his mouth and steps back. His pants are still open and he’s so massively hard he’s about to poke a hole through his blue briefs. Yet he tucks the whole package inside his pants and zips up with a wink.

“That was nice. But I’m afraid I have a meeting to get to. We’ll continue this later.”

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