Page 66 of Claiming Genevieve

Something clenches inside of me at that. Rowan undoes the buttons of his shirt swiftly, and as it falls open, I try not to look at the hard ridges of muscle that it reveals, at his broad chest and chiseled stomach. I reach for my shirt instead, dragging the silk blouse I wore today up over my head, and the moment I let it fall to the floor, Rowan makes a sound that I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man make before.

It’s akin to a growl—a hoarse, lustful sound, and with one quick movement he strides toward me, picking me up and carrying me back to the bed. He spills me onto it, my ass at the edge as I fall back onto the soft mattress, and he jerks open his belt with the other hand, pulling his thick, rigid cock free as he leans forward over me, still half-dressed. He yanks the button of my jeans open, dragging them down my hips along with my panties, and tosses the remainder of my clothing aside, his cock clenched in his other hand.

He slides the swollen head through my folds and moans, his eyes closing as he lets out a hiss of pleasure at the sensation. “So wet,” he groans, his hips snapping forward. “Always so fucking wet for me?—”

I start to protest, to argue that it’s a biological response and notforhim, when he sinks into me so roughly and so deeply that it takes my breath away. He fills me in one swift thrust, sinking all the way to the hilt, and I let out a cry of surprise as my body tries to adjust to accommodate him. He’s long and thick, almost too much so, and the last time we did this he was more careful. But it’s as if something has snapped, and he drives into me again, groaning as his hands fist in the duvet on either side of my head.

“That’s right,” he groans. “Fucking moan for me,wife. You can pretend you don’t want my cock all you want, but it feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Stretching that tight, pretty pussy?” He draws out almost to the tip and slams into me again, his face contorting with pleasure. “Fucking Christ, you feel so fucking good?—”

My legs come up automatically to wrap around his hips, and Rowan hisses with pleasure, his eyes snapping open to meet mine. “That’s right, wife,” he groans. “Pull me in. Show me how much you want that cock. You can lie the rest of the time, but you can’t lie right now, can you? I can already feel how much you want to come for me.”

“I’m not going to come,” I hiss, on the verge of shoving him off of me. I’m so angry I can feel my face heating with it, angry at his taunting, at the filthy words spilling out of his mouth, at how they’re making me feel. I tense, trying to fight off the pleasure, to make it clear that this is a transaction and nothing more, the price I agreed to pay for Rowan’s help and a different future at the end of all of this. But every stroke of his cock inside of me feels like fucking heaven, touching places that I didn’t know could be touched, and with every moment that passes I can feel myself slipping closer and closer to the edge.

“You should come for me,” Rowan grinds out. “Because I’m going to fuck you until you do,taibhseach. I won’t come until you come all over my cock?—”

“I doubt that,” I bite out, throwing my head back to look up directly into his eyes, even as I feel myself clench and tighten around him. “You won’t last.” I tighten again, purposefully this time, and he lets out a groan that sounds almost pained. “You’ll come first.”

Rowan’s eyes glint, and he reaches up with one hand, cupping my chin as his thumb sweeps over my lower lip. “Is that a challenge,taibhseach?”

The touch sends a shudder of pleasure through me. I should pull away. I should remind him that touching me like that is against the rules I set down at the very beginning, that theonlyway he should be touching me right now is in the most necessary one. But as he thrusts again, his thumb sweeping over my lip as he sinks into me, I can’t find the words to tell him to stop.

His thumb presses down, pushing between my lips as his grip on my chin tightens, and he thrusts harder, faster, his jaw clenched tight. His eyes are dark with lust, his muscles wound tight, and I know he’s close. But so am I.

I can see what he’s thinking as he pushes the tip of his thumb between my lips. I know he’s imagining his cock there, pushing the swollen head into my mouth, how warm and wet it would feel. Another pulse of desire lances through me at the fantasy, and my hips arch despite my best efforts, pulling him in deeper as he moves with me.

It feels so fucking good. Every thrust, every shift of his body against mine, made hotter by the fact that I’m naked underneath him and he’s still clothed, the chiseled swath of his bare chest and stomach in the open space of his shirt, all the bare flesh that’s visible. His copper hair falls forward into his face as he thrusts again, his face an agonizing mask of barely controlled lust, and I have to stop myself from reaching up and brushing it back. If I do, I’ll kiss him. If I touch him, I won’t be able to stop.

He pulls his hand away from my face, his hands convulsing in the blankets. “Fuck,” he breathes, and I laugh raggedly, stilling my hips again.

“That’s it,” I murmur. “It feels so good, doesn’t it? You’re going to come, aren’t you? You’re going to fill me up?—”

Rowan’s eyes snap open again, and his jaw works. “I should put something in your filthy mouth,taibhseach. Just so you’ll—fuck—” He groans again, his body shuddering as his hips grind against mine, and I can feel him fighting for control.

“That won’t get me pregnant,” I murmur sweetly, certain that he’s about to lose it—and then he shifts ever so slightly, the next thrust putting pressure directly on my clit.

The orgasm hits me in a staggering wave, crashing over me in a burst of pleasure that catches me so off guard so suddenly that I can’t stop the cry that spills from my lips. My back arches, my hands scrambling at the blankets as I claw at them, my head thrown back as wave after wave of exquisite pleasure washes over me, intensified by every rough thrust of Rowan’s cock inside me. I’m still coming, still clenching around him when I hear him groan raggedly and feel him shudder, and that heat fills me as he comes, his hips rocking against me as he drives his cum into me as deeply as he can.

He’s panting as he sags forward, holding himself up on his elbows, his cock still twitching inside of me. Breathless, he looks away, staying there for several long moments until he finally pulls back, his cock still half-hard as he slips out of me. He looks at me, his clothing in disarray, and he runs his hand through his hair in a sharp, jerky movement before pivoting on his heel and striding toward the bathroom without a backward glance.

The door slams behind him, leaving me there—naked on the bed, his cum hot on the inside of my thighs.

24

ROWAN

Istand in the dark bathroom for several long moments before I flip on the light, trying to catch my breath. The aftershocks of my orgasm are still coursing through me, my adrenaline high, and all I want is to go back out there and fuck my wife again. I’d be hard again in an instant if I so much as looked at her. I don’t seem to have a refractory period when it comes to her.

But I need some space. I need to think. And I know, when I go back out there, she will have left.

She doesn’t feel what I feel. At least, I don’t think she does. But she does want me. No matter how much she lies to me or herself, even in the heat of the moment, the way her body responds to me makes it clear.

A shiver runs down my spine, fresh arousal shuddering through me at the memory of how wet she was already when I stripped off her clothes, at how good her wet heat felt against the tip of my cock as I dragged it through her dripping folds. I feel my cock twitch and stiffen again, throbbing with renewed need, but I ignore it, heading for the shower instead.

When I come out, as I expected, Genevieve is gone.

I could go to her room. I could fuck her again. She wouldn’t tell me no, I know that. The more often I come inside of her, the more likely I am to get her pregnant, and that’s the goal of this. Theonlygoal. It’s not pleasure, or intimacy, or anything but fulfilling what we both agreed to… and then that will be the end of it all.

My chest aches, thinking of never touching her again. Of all the things we will have never done together, things that I know I’ll spend the rest of my life imagining. Fantasizing about, dreaming of. I’ll be aching for my wife long after she isn’t my wife any longer.

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