Page 160 of Gloves Off

“Yes, you did.”

Her lips part like she has a smart comment lined up, but I sink my fingers into her and her eyes close, words forgotten.

“What were you going to say, sweetheart?” My tone is smug and teasing as I work that sensitive, ridged spot inside her.

“Uh.”

Her eyes stay closed as I fuck her with my hand, her pussy soaked and tight around my fingers. A flush of pink grows across her cheeks, down her neck, and across her chest. So fucking prettyand perfect. My other hand slips up her camisole, palming her breast. At the quick pinch of my fingers on her nipple, her teeth clamp together like she’s trying not to moan.

A sense of challenge floods me and I shove my boxers down, reach for the condom, and roll it on. While she’s still blinking from the loss of my fingers inside her, I yank her shorts down, push her forward, line myself up with her entrance, and sink inside.

“Holy fuck,” she breathes as I push deeper.

She’s so fucking tight and hot, I can barely think. My first thrusts are slow and steady to get her used to the snug fit, but she’s wet and ready for me, hands flexing on the countertop, breathing hard. Watching her bent over while I fuck her is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, though, and before long, my hips are flush against her ass as I sink deep.

She braces an elbow on the countertop, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle a low noise.

“Oh no, you fucking don’t.” I pull her wrist away, grab her other one, banding them behind her back. “Don’t you dare hide from me, Georgia.” I sink my hand into the back of her hair, gripping the soft strands to hold her head up so I can see her expression in the mirror. “Open your eyes and watch me fuck my wife.”

Our gazes meet in the mirror—hers unfocused, needy, and cloudy with lust, mine sharp and hot—and I almost come right there. Her pussy clenches around my cock, her eyelids dip, and the pressure around the base of my spine coils tighter.

This is not the hate fuck from the benefit. This is so, so much more. I’m addicted to this woman, to her pleasure and the way she trusts me with it.

“You love it like this, don’t you, Hellfire? Rough and hard?”

Her teeth grit together. Stubborn little brat.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” she rushes out, and another pulse of heat moves through me.

“You’re made for this. Made for taking my cock.”

She nods. Something about Georgia admitting how much she wants me, following my commands, letting me take control over her, makes me feel like a fucking king. My lips come to her ear, still gripping her hair, her wrists.

“If I let your wrists go,” I murmur while I fuck her, “can I trust you to be a good wife and keep your hands behind your back?”

She looks like she wants to argue, so I drop a kiss to her neck.

“It’ll be worth it,” I add, and she huffs a laugh.

“Fine.”

“Good girl.”

Her throat works, and she tightens around me again. When my fingers slide through the wetness between her legs, she lets out a choked gasp. A few tight, firm circles on her clit and she’s already coming, letting out high, breathy moans that I hoard like treasure. Her muscles begin to spasm, tightening and pulsing around me, and my hands come to her hips, gripping them for leverage as I fuck her hard.

Something about reducing this smart, mouthy woman to a desperate, shuddering mess sets me on fire. The urgent pressure in my groin overflows, heat roaring through me, shattering my senses. I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I just clutch her against me and spill into the condom, feeling like my DNA is being rearranged. Wishing I was coming inside her with nothing in between us.

Wishing I could call her my wife for real.

The last thought isn’t even a concern anymore. That’s how far gone I am. I don’t care if she’s not there yet. I’ll be patient. I’ll wait until my wife is ready.

We catch our breaths, gaze meeting in the mirror. Her face is still flushed, her chest rising and falling fast. Hair wild. I’m still inside her, not ready to pull out just yet.

“That’s a good look on you.”

She lets out a silent laugh. Once we’ve cleaned up and are lying in bed, I turn to her. Her hair spills over the pillows, golden strandsglinting in the dim light from the bedside lamp. A pretty pink glow still on those cheeks. She stares at the ceiling, a pinch between her eyebrows.

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