Page 95 of Hot Shot

I beam back.

“You called me husband.”

“I did. You owe me a porn kiss.”

“You got one of those on the Ferris wheel.”

“Oh, not on the mouth, honey.”

The look on his face is hot enough to reduce me to liquid form. “That, I can do. Right fucking now.” He steers us toward the hallway of individual bathrooms.

I laugh, swatting at his arm, wishing I didn’t have to say, “Later.”

He pulls me close, curling into me to bury his face in my neck. “I want nowandlater,” he whispers against the shell of my ear, sending a wave of goosebumps bursting from the spot where his breath meets my skin.

He straightens so he doesn’t run us into anybody or a table or something, and just in time—we narrowly avoid crashing into the confused-looking Waverlys, who are both over eighty. The last thing we need is a double hip replacement on our consciences.

He lays his smoldering gaze on me again that sends a rush of heat so merciless, it slicks my thighs.

“I want to taste you.” The words are rough, low, nearly a growl. “To watch you come. To slide my cock inside of you so deep, you won’t be able to fucking breathe. I want you naked and begging and as desperate as I am for you. The ten years I’ve waited for this feels like a fucking thousand, and right now, the only thing keeping me sane is the thought of fucking you.” My heart is a freight train, my lids heavy when he leans in. “I amthroughwaiting, Cassidy. Don’t test me.”

He says it with such ferocity, my feeble defenses are demolished. I’m hot and heavy in his arms, the aching between my legs unbearable. My mind empties in a whoosh except for one thought.

A challenging smile tugs at my lips. “Put your money where your mouth is, hot shot. Or my pussy, as it were.”

Before he can kiss me, I spin out of his grip and strut toward the bathrooms, glancing over my shoulder to make sure he’s following.

And the hunger in his eyes as he does leaves me certain I have no idea what I’m in for.

But good God, am I ready to find out.

CHAPTER 36

TEAR IT UP

WILDER

Ihave never been so hard in my entire fucking life.

Unaware of the bar or the people in it, I all but chase Cass as she slips into the hallway and into one of the toilets, giving me a hot look before disappearing inside.

My cock is thick and angry in the confines of my jeans, fighting my zipper, seeking my waistband at the very least as I rush into the hallway and duck into the bathroom where my wife waits for me to fuck her with my tongue and lips and fingers. My cock is furious not to be included.

It’ll be worth the wait.

I slam the door shut and throw the bolt. And when I turn, she’s all I see.

She’s leaning against the tile wall panting, her cheeks flushed and eyes hooded. Her dress is caught in her clenched thighs and I watch her hands move to the hem, her long fingers gathering the fabric, drawing it toward her waist.

It’s an offering I take without hesitation.

Three long strides and I draw her into my arms, my lips on a track for hers that God himself couldn’t stop.

Our mouths meet like the strike of a match, rough and fiery, consuming us as swiftly as we consume the air in noisy, greedy gulps, stoking the flame. We are reduced to rushing blood and heat, hands and tongues seeking that piece of ourselves we knew the other still held.

I force her legs apart with mine, and she straddles my thigh—her moan trembles across my tongue, her hands clenching the front of my shirt when she grinds her hips to fuck my leg. And then it’s my turn to moan, the sound rumbling in my chest and throat and past my lips, into her. It’s too much, knowing that she wants me with such desperation that she’d fuck herself sated with nothing but my thigh. I’m high on the knowledge, my cock surging with a rush of blood, as if it could break from its confines to get to her.

I break the kiss with a wet pop and drop to my knees, my eyes between her legs as I snatch her skirt and shove it toward her ribs.

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