Page 119 of Menace in Vegas

She’s already dripping for me, and we haven’t even gotten out of the car yet.

I cut the engine and glare at Priscilla like she personally betrayed me.

Then I turn to my wife and grip her chin. “You’ve been a fucking menace since the moment I laid eyes on this car, and now? You’re going to pay for it.”

Her lips part. Her eyes widen.

“Are you threatening me with a good time, Daddy?” she whispers.

That’s it.

I growl, grab her, and haul her over my shoulder.

She squeals, laughing and kicking, but I don’t slow down.

I storm through the hotel like a man possessed, ignoring the startled gasps and knowing smiles.

I caught the feral grin on my wife’s lips when I grabbed her.

She won the car ride.

But I’m about to win the night.

The second the suite door shuts, I slam her against it.

Our mouths crash together—sloppy, frantic, starved.

I grind against her, hard and unforgiving.

“I should fuck you right here against this door,” I snarl.

She moans. “Do it.”

Instead, I rip the dress down the center.

“Connor!”

“Shut up. I’ll buy you ten more.” I bite her throat. “And tear off every single one.”

I carry her to the bed, toss her like she weighs nothing, then my knee hits the mattress.

She scrambles back, breathless and soaked.

“You’re not getting away, wife.”

She squeals and flips around.

But I grab her before she can go anywhere.

I squeeze her ass, then lean down and bite her bare ass cheek, before slapping it. The rhinestones on her thong glitter at me.

She gasps, but surrenders.

As she should.

She’s already mine.

I rip off her thong and then slide two fingers into her tight, soaked pussy.

---