Page 57 of Captured Fantasy

A sizzle of heat moved down my spine. She was a vision, a fucking wet dream, in a white and red flowery dress that fell past her knees. The ruched bodice clung to her breasts, the thin straps showing off her pretty shoulders. She somehow managed to make a full length dress look erotic without even trying.

I took her by the upper arm and pulled her against me. When I kissed her, her mouth was soft and tasted faintly of herbal tea. Like blueberries and pomegranate. Fuck, she was so sweet it started an ache in my chest and in my cock that was hard to ignore.

“Would you like coffee?” she asked, her voice a little husky.

“Please,” I said, following her into the coolness of her hallway.

Her house smelled like freshly baked pastry and there was a bouquet of roses on the table. They caught my eye and held it as I followed her into the kitchen. She reached for the coffee pot and I gripped her wrist, turning her to face me.

“Have you spoken with Federico?” I asked.

She squirmed, looking down at the ground. “I went to the clubhouse, but I couldn’t figure out how to tell him. I don’t know what to say.”

“You tell him that you don’t want to fuck him anymore,” I said.

“I’m trying, it’s just complicated,” she said, sounding frustrated. “I have to be careful. He has control over my finances, over me.”

“He sent you the flowers, didn’t he?” I pressed.

She swallowed. “He’s been less…brutish since the picnic.”

I released her and stepped back, shrugging off my jacket and setting my helmet aside. “He has to know he’s at risk of losing you.”

She made two cups of espresso, filling mine with hot water and passing it to me. I swirled the dark foam on top, staring down at it. When I finally looked up, she was watching me, her cup balanced in her slender fingers. Jesus, she had such small hands and she still wore her wedding ring. Bulky and glittering gold and diamond. Her nails were perfectly manicured, each one an oval crescent moon of white. What would they feel like dragged down my back while she whimpered beneath me? The image had me distracted for a moment.

“I don’t know why he wants me,” she said quietly.

“Have you looked in a mirror, Mrs. Russo?” I asked, raising a brow. “You’re fucking stunning. I’ve spent all week thinking about what you’d be like in bed.”

“You’ve been in bed with me,” she whispered.

“I haven’t fucked you.”

Her breasts rose and fell and I dropped my gaze, unable to help myself. God, she had gorgeous tits, ones that got my cock hard. This time it was her turn to let her eyes fall, but she didn’t have the nerve to keep them there. She swept past me to the oven and took out two large pans of muffins and laid them on the table.

“Baking for the school again?” I asked lightly.

“There’s a church function next week,” she said. She touched the top of one of the muffins to check it, a bit of blueberry staining her thumb. My dick twitched in my pants as she put it to her mouth, her tongue flicking out for the barest second.

I set aside my coffee and circled the island. She stilled as I brushed her hair aside and grazed my mouth up her neck. Her spine arced and she tilted her head to the side, exposing that perfect throat. I slid my fingers around it, cradling it, enjoying how fragile it felt in my grip.

“Have you thought about what we did? Use it to get yourself off at night? Or do you think about me bending you over the kitchen counter like this? Lifting your skirt up and sliding my cock inside you, filling you up until it hurts.”

I could see her blurry reflection in the backsplash behind the stove. As I spoke, her eyes widened and her lips parted. She dropped her lids and a low moan slipped from her mouth, her ass nestling back against my throbbing cock. My God, this woman was offering me everything, right here in her kitchen. I breathed in, flexing my jaw, trying to hold myself back.

My fingers slid up her thigh and she shifted her legs apart. Her inner thighs were wet, slick beneath my touch. Her head lolled back and I tightened my grip on her throat, keeping her back against me as I reached beneath her skirt. Her silky thong was soaked.

Heat shot down my spine and my cock strained against the front of my pants. She must have felt it twitch and pulse because she whimpered. I released her throat and she bent her little body over the counter, bracing her palms. Presenting her ass and her pussy to me without reservation.

She wanted to be fucked. Right here, right now. My throat was dry and my pulse ached in my chest.

There was a heavy knocking on the door and she jumped, spinning around.

“Mrs. Venetti. I forgot she was coming to pick up the muffins,” she gasped.

She pushed her skirt down, frantically trying to smooth back her hair. I bit back what I wanted to say, which was to tell her to forget Mrs. Venetti and the goddamn muffins and spread her legs for me.

She was already slipping on her heels and clicking down the hall. I took a deep breath and adjusted my cock, tucking it beneath my belt.

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