Page 107 of Desperate Actions

We collide like a thunderstorm, a clash of heat and need, and I know I should be gentle.

Careful. Tender. Slow.

She’s still new to this.

But fuck that.

Not now.

Not when my skin is burning.

Not when my blood is molten.

Not when my need for her is clawing me apart from the inside out.

I’m tearing at my clothes, desperate to feel her skin against mine. And Aella?

She’s helping.

Her small hands move fast, unbuttoning my shirt, shoving it off my shoulders, and then her lips working their way along my jaw, my neck, my chest—everywhere.

I’ve never let a woman have me like this.

Never let one explore me.

But Aella?

I want her to take everything.

She drops to her knees, fingers at my belt, and my body goes taut.

“What are you doing, Wife?” My voice is rough, uneven.

She peeks up at me, cheeky little brat, and smirks.

“If you don’t know, then I’m doing it wrong.”

I should stop her.

I should tell her she doesn’t have to.

But then she grips my cock, wrapping those perfect, lush lips around me andfuck.

I’m gone.

“Goddamn, Pixie.”

My head tips back, eyes rolling shut, but only for a second.

Because I need to see this.

See her.

On her knees.

For me.

Taking me in her mouth.

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