Page 64 of The One Night Match
“Hmm. If your pussy isn’t begging for my cock, why did you spend half the night writhing around against it? Shifting your perfect ass around until I almost came all over it.”
My cheeks heat, but that does line up with a few of the very filthy dreams I had last night. Dreams where Cruz had me tied to the bed as he had his way with me. Dreams where he had me sitting on his desk with my legs spread, going between meetings, and eating me out. Dreams where the man made me come over and over again until I could barely breathe without him.
Yeah, it checks out for sure.
“Were you dreaming about all the dirty things you want me to do to you, Riley?” He presses kisses along my shoulder. When he dressed me in one of his shirts for bed last night, I didn’t even bother arguing. At this point, I get as much comfort out of wearing them as he does having me in them, and one thing I’ve learned since marrying Cruz is that I need to pick my battles carefully.
“No,” I lie, but the breathy hitch in my voice gives me away, earning me another rough chuckle that brushes over the back of my neck.
“Hmm, that’s too bad. Because I was dreaming about you. About how you’ll look riding my face and my cock. How sexy you’ll look with my cum covering your face and tits. How pretty you look when you beg to come.” Cruz bites down on my shoulder, and I cry out, pressing my ass back against him and earning me a groan. “You like the sound of that, Kitten? You like the idea of me dreaming about you?”
“Yes,” I murmur, too lost in him to worry about being embarrassed.
Almost too quickly for me to process, he flips us until he’s hovering over me with his legs straddling my hips.
His eyes immediately lock onto the small bandage along my hairline with a frown. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” I whisper.
He stares down at me with a raised brow, making me sigh.
“Okay, I have a small headache, but you know what they say about orgasms.”
He laughs. “No, tell me what they say.”
“Apparently, they’re nature’s Tylenol.”
“Is that so?”
I nod slowly, dragging my bottom lip between my teeth.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Kitten?” Cruz pushes the hem of the shirt I’m wearing up enough to uncover my embarrassingly wet panties. “I think we should implement a new rule.”
“To add to all the other rules I don’t have?”
“Oh, you have rules, Riley. No coming without permission. Telling me where you are at all times. No touching your pussy without my say so.”
My mouth drops open in surprise. “I don’t think I agreed to any of those.”
He shrugs. “So I think we’ll add in no wearing underwear in bed. For either of us.”
I roll my eyes and groan. “Cruz, that’s unreasonable. You can’t just snap your fingers and tell me I can’t wear panties to bed anymore. What about when I have my period?”
“We lay down a towel,” he deadpans.
I screw up my nose. “No. Absolutely not. Nope. Uh-uh. I don’t think so.”
He chuckles, dropping his face into the crook of my neck and dragging his tongue up my throat, which only serves to make my pussy clench around nothing. “I’m sure I can convince you why it’s a great idea.”
“No, Cruz,” I say through a moan. “How about I agree to the other rules, but not the underwear one.”
“I didn’t ask for your agreement about the others. Nor am I asking for it for this one.”
I groan. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Yep.”
I never thought I’d be bargaining with my husband about whether I can wear underwear in our bed, but here we are. And if I’m honest, it’s a hell of a lot better than the arguments I expected to have with Jeremy when we were engaged.
