Page 19 of Prey for You

I sucked in as Sam’s hands left me. I was shaking, trembling on the edge of orgasm, so the loss of him was devastating. He cursed and pushed out of the chair and I snapped my head around to look at him over my shoulder, ready to beg that he not leave, but all I saw was him fumbling with his belt, then his eyes locked on mine and he growled at me.

“I said, keep watching.”

Biting my lip, I turned back to watch the couple on the stage whose movements now rose and fell in a direct mirror of the intimacies I was aching for. To my relief, Sam took hold of my hips and pulled himself over me, reaching to twine his fingers with mine on the chair back in front of me, locking me between his hips and arm as he used his free hand to position himself. I arched my back to help him, aching for him to fill me.

Then he wasright there,and he dropped his chin next to my ear.

“I said,watch,Bridget.”

Forcing myself to raise my head, my jaw dropped open when he took me in a single, sudden thrust, so hard, and filling me so full, my toes tingled and I almost came.

I was shaking, panting, afraid my knees might give if he didn’t finish this soon.

Then the music hit a crescendo, and as my husband’s trembling hand slid up my body to cup my throat, and his breath fluttered against my hair, his chest warmed my back, and his cock filled me to gasping, my body responded with a rapidlyincreasing pressure, the fullness of my core filling my heart and mind and pushing me right to the edge.

“You see, Bridget?” he whispered hoarsely as we moved together. “You see what you do to me?”

As I nodded, he groaned and let go of my throat, his hand slapping to my hip, his fingers digging in as he began to pound, and I dissolved into a quivering mass of pleasure, each of my senses overwhelmed simultaneously—the sight of the dancers in a parody of orgasm and ecstasy, my body shivering with my own impending bliss, the sound of my husband’s need driving my own—and the flutter of his breath on the back of my neck.

I crested the wave, my head snapping back as I sucked in a breath to call for him. Sam gasped, one hand clapped over my mouth, the other a clawed grip on my breast. As my orgasm hit, he pulled me backwards into his lap, tilted his hips and drove into me, holding me so I was relentlessly pounded over that edge, every ounce of pleasure wrung out, my screams smothered by his palm and my body jerking, quivering. And in the midst of that mindless bliss, as the music reached its peak, Sam buried his face in the curve of my neck and bellowed his own climax.

While he still shook under me, both the music and theater lights cut out.

I sucked in, fighting to be silent, but there was a roar as the audience cheered and applauded to raise the roof, offering cover for the last of our cries and groans.

6. Play the Game

~ SAM ~

The following morning we were both awakened with a start by the sound of Bridget’s phone ringing.

I nudged her—she wanted to ignore our calls—and she groaned, but reached for it on the side table, cursing a second later. “It’s fucking Jeremy.”

A coil of deep, abiding loathing twisted in my guts. My hand tightened on her instinctively, and for a second I was tempted to tell her to ignore it. But I knew that was asking for trouble. If he realized she wasn’t home, he wouldn’t stop until he found her.

“Put it on speaker,” I muttered, shoving back the sheets to get out of bed and go to the bathroom while she answered the phone sleepily.

“What is it, Jeremy—and why are you calling so early?”

“Early, have you looked at the clock, Bridget?”

I glanced at my own phone as I got out of bed and winced. It wasn’t morning after all, but firmly afternoon.

I’d kept her up late last night, unable to stoppunishingher for getting turned on by those dancers. I’d had her on the cushions in the private dining room of the restaurant, almost lost control and taken her in the stairwell on the way back to the room—barely getting her in the door before I had her againstthe wall. Then the shower. Then that countertop that she’d teased me about.

And even though it wasamazingwith her, a little voice in the back of my head kept niggling at me, insisting that this wasn’t normal, and wasn’t purelylove. But I shut it up until almost dawn when we were both exhausted and the room had been christened on every feasible surface.

“Uh,” Bridget sighed as I stepped into the bathroom, leaving the door open so I could hear the conversation. “Okay, fair enough,” she said hoarsely. I hoped he’d think it was just because of sleep that she sounded like she was losing her voice, and not because I’d had her screaming—

“What’s going on?” Bridget asked him, pushing up to sit in bed and staring at me.

I stared right back and had to plead with my body not to harden again—I needed to take a piss!

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jeremy sighed. “Just a fucking shitshow of a court case in which you’re our star witness. Ring a bell?”

Bridget rolled her eyes, but kept her tone light. “I think I remember—”

“Look, cut the crap,” Jeremy snapped and I had to make myself stop and take a breath because I wanted to close my hand onhisthroat, and not in the good way. “We’ve got to start making some plans. Figuring out details. I need to walk you through what we’re doing, and Laurence says he’s got details to go over with you so they can check some stuff. Corroborating evidence, that kind of thing.”

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