Page 88 of Dirty Eoin

We may not share our thoughts or feelings, but our bodies are so incredibly attuned they don’t need dialogue to communicate their wants, needs, and demands.

I hate mine for it. I hate his for it.

I curse him, because one taste and, like a junkie, I was hooked. Neither of us can hide this physical bond that we share. At least not from each other.

I want him, rightly or wrongly.

Wrongly. Wrongly. Wrongly.

I turn away, suddenly over-whelmed by a fusion of guilt and grief.

Too much. Too soon. Too much. Too soon.

Tears threaten. I bite them back. I have no choice. I can only release them when I’m on my own.

When it’s just me and Ace.

Now is not the time for grief or self-pity. I can’t afford to drop the ball. Not now I’ve got him exactly where I want him. I just need to stick to the goddamn plan.

Composing myself, I turn back around. I watch as he removes his tie. Strong hands working deftly. Strong hands that have now explored every inch of my body. That have given me intense pleasure and inflicted intense pain. Strong, possessive hands that have wrapped around my throat so many times I now miss their presence.

I run my fingertip down his crisp white shirt. My heart pounds even faster.

He’s all fucking mine. And I can do whatever I like with him.For now.

With both hands, I rip his shirt apart. Buttons scatter. The visual is skin. Perfectly inked. Imperfectly scarred.

Placing my nose against his neck, I inhale the scent of his cologne, sighing as I welcome back his darkness as it wraps its addictive arms around me once more. Pressing my lips to the same spot, I allow my hands to glide down the smooth, chiseled flesh of his torso before stopping to rest at the top of his suit pants. Raising them upward, I place them against his chest to let him know I want him to stay exactly where he is. Then, stepping back, I strip.

His eyes follow my every move, drinking me in. I feel light-headed with how much lust and desire I see in his eyes.

Moving forward, I press my hands against his chest once more. His heart is pounding, the same as mine. I then run them slowly back down his body, but this time, my lips and tongue follow their path until I’m on my knees in front of him.

His gaze now burns green.

I unzip him to freedom, letting his pants drop to the floor. He steps out and kicks them aside. My eyes feast on that magnificent cock of his. He’s too big. Every time he fucks me, it hurts. But that’s intentional on his part.

The pain is for my pleasure.

I run my fingertips along his impressive length with its throbbing veins and leaking tip. His abs clench as it jerks under my touch, and my tongue laps up the bead of pre-cum that appears on the head.

Growling, he fists my hair with one hand. Waiting for his instruction, I inhale his addictive, musky scent.

“Suck.”

That one spoken word is like an aphrodisiac. I groan as my core melts.

His eyes darken as he uses his thumb to smear my lipstick. It’s my guess he wants my mouth to stain his dick blood red.

My eyes never leave his as I run my tongue over the blunt head to lubricate him before sucking hard on the nerve endings right under the tip. He hisses, his grip on my hair tightening.

“I said suck, wife. Do something useful with that bossy little mouth of yours for once and wrap it around my fucking dick.”

“Asshole.” I smirk up at him, but I can hear the command in his tone. He has expectations now that he’s publicly chosen me. Now that he’s claimed me.

Now that he’s chosen me over her.

I gave him no other option.

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