Page 144 of Innocent Intentions

Same. Damn. Spot.

I fumble back into narration, my words broken and breathy. I stumble and stutter. Moans spill between sentences. My volume fluctuates wildly.

Every time I stop reading, he slaps the same spot. When I get into a groove, he triples his effort destroying any composure.

Read. Grind. Pause. Slap. Repeat.

His mouth is a melody of sin beneath me, a wet soundtrack to my humiliation. No editor will ever hear this. It’s practically pornographic.

I’m not even processing the chapter anymore. The words are just sounds. I couldn’t tell you what I’m saying. I couldn’t tell you my name.

But somehow, I finish it.

The last two paragraphs nearly kill me, but I survive. Barely.

And then it ends.

And so do I.

I fall apart screaming. Maybe his name, maybe nonsense. I don’t know. I don’t care. The orgasm rips through me like a supernova.

My vision whites out, sparks dancing behind my eyes. I drop the mic. My fingers tangle through his hair, holding him to me as he licks me through the aftershock.

When the shaking finally subsides, I slide down his chest and collapse on top of him.

He wraps me in his arms, chin resting on my head, gently rubbing my back.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You did so well, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

I melt. I don’t have the strength to reply. I just curl deeper into his warmth.

“Send me that recording. Then delete it. No one hears my woman’s pleasure but me.” It’s a possessive growl.

I nod faintly, too dazed to even feel smug about what he’ll do when he listens to it.

He drapes a blanket over us, tucking me against him as my eyelids grow heavy. I’m wrapped in him, buried in his scent, lulled by his steady breathing.

I could get used to this.

Chapter 62

Matthias

I take a few deep breaths and try to calm myself before dinner with Margot.

It’s been a few days since the call with my brothers and still no update. The silence is maddening. I’m trapped in a constant state of stress, always on alert, waiting for something to happen to Margot.

I know it’s irrational. No one knows she’s here. But I can’t shake the feeling. There’s a target on her back, and I feel it like crosshairs on my own skin.

Once I’ve reined myself in, I head to the dining room, and instantly, a genuine smile breaks across my face.

She’s already seated. Not at the other end of the table like she always insists, but at the chair to the right of my head seat.

My smile widens.

She’s finally given in. Every dinner, she would move her setting to the opposite head of the table, and every time, I moved mine to her right. But now… now she’s placed herself beside me without prompting. It’s such a small gesture, but it means everything.

This is why I do it all. This woman is worth every moment of worry.

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