Page 62 of The Wrong Husband
Her curves cling like silk to the angles of my body. And when she twines her hands around my neck and slides her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck, a primal thrill spirals under my skin.Jesus Christ.
This obsession with her is turning into a passion burrowing deep into my bones and hooking its claws into my soul.
I want to squeeze her tits, grab at the fleshy globes of her butt, and grind her core against my aching cock. I want to kissher deeply and ravage her mouth. I want to throw her down on the carpet, tear off her clothes and rut into her until she comes.
I want to make her orgasm, until she’s as high on endorphins as this balloon we’re sailing in—higher, even. I want to… Cuddle her after and take care of her. The feelings she elicits in me eddy through my body and pound against my mind. When she breaks away, we’re both panting.
“Fuck,” I say softly.
Her lips tremble. “Yeah.” She cups my cheek. “Thank you for doing this." She looks around us again, then back at me. "I’ll never forget this day."
"There will be more like these."
"Oh?" Her face doesn’t mirror my conviction.
"There will," I say with finality. "I found you, and I’m not letting go of you."
"I haven’t agreed to marry you," she waggles a finger at me.
"Not yet…"But you will.
She frowns. "I don’t mean to lead you on. I’m not good marriage material. I can barely take care of myself."
"Letmetake care of you instead."
She swallows.
"I have more than enough mind space for both of us."
She looks at me from under her eyelashes. "What makes you say that?"
"I’m perceptive enough to realize that something from your past is holding you back."
She pales.
"I’m not going to probe. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. And I don’t want to coerce you into deciding— Well, maybe not the last—" I shrug. "But I’m patient. I can wait."
She bites down on her lower lip. Distress is evident on her face, but I’m distracted by how her teeth worry her lower lip. How the creamy expanse of her neck makes me want to placemy nose in the hollow of her throat and breathe in her essence deeply. I bring my fingers to my nose and sniff.
She stills. "Did you… Are you?—"
"Smelling the remnants of your cum?" I nod.
She draws in a sharp breath. "That’s…filthy."
"And you love it."
She blinks rapidly, then dips her chin. "I do.”
“Good girl,” I rumble.
She flushes. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.” She lets out a breath and shakes her head. “Growing up, I was the rule-follower. Well, other than holding firm that I wanted to become a doctor and that I wanted to do it on my own strength.” She chuckles. “My mother didn’t approve, but I knew it was right for me. And perhaps, I wanted to prove her wrong. And I wanted to make her proud. So, I focused. No partying. No distractions. No staying out late.”
A humorless laugh escapes her.
“Even when I graduated med school, when the others were out getting drunk and letting loose, I stayed home and celebrated by buying a stack of books. That was my idea of a wild night.”
Her voice softens.
