The Wrong Wife (Morally Grey Billionaires #5)(87)

I blink. "Didn’t think I was that obvious."

"To me, you were."

"So, you can read the expression on my face. Most likely, you can interpret my gestures and read between the lines of my unspoken words, as a good employee should."

She gapes. "So that’s all I am to you? An employee?"

"And my wife—by contract. You sure do give new meaning to working for me around the clock."

She pales, then shoves at my shoulder. "Get off me."

"Thought you loved me? Thought you could put up with anything I said or did?"

"That doesn’t mean you can say anything that comes to your mind. That you can insult me, and treat me like—"

"My personal fuck-toy?"

She swallows, and her breathing grows shallow.

"That turns you on, doesn’t it? Under that wide-eyed, pink-color-loving, sunshine and rainbows and butterflies persona you love to project, you’re a submissive. A dirty girl who wants to be dominated, and handled roughly, and told what to do, and fucked to within an inch of her life."

A low gasp spills from her lips, then she tips up her chin. "Yes, I love sex with you. I love how you make me orgasm. How you handle my body, how when you look at me, it’s to the exclusion of anything else in the world. I lost my father early, missed a male presence in my life, one which you are, clearly, fulfilling."

I chuckle, then lower myself within her thighs enough that the evidence of my arousal stabs into her core. "Does that look like I’m fulfilling the role of a father figure in your life?"

She swallows. "You know what I mean. You’re not that much older than me, but you have the kind of solid presence that makes me want to lean on you. Physically, you’re much bigger than me, and you have that unshakeable core in you which makes me feel secure. You treat me like I'm your possession, like you own me, and I should hate it, but it only seems to turn me on more. I hate myself for it—"

"But you love me."

"And I hate myself for loving you, too."

"Sounds like a B-grade pop song.” I laugh.

"That’s all my feelings mean to you?"

I blow out a breath. "I warned you not to fall in love with me."

"And I told you, you would with me—" The light fades from her eyes, and she mumbles, "Guess I failed."

"But what neither of us can dispute is this." I position my cock between her lower lips and slam into her.

Her breath hitches, and her body trembles. Her moist walls embrace my dick like they’ve been waiting for it to penetrate her. Her channel flutters around me, and my heartbeat instantly shoots up.

"There it is—the language we both understand. There are no misconceptions, no possibility of mistakes, nothing lost in translation." I lower my chest into hers and bracket her between my arms. "This, when I’m inside you, and your pussy squeezes down on my cock, and your nipples are so hard they all but tear into my skin when I push my body into yours, when your eyes are so dilated I can see myself in them, and your essence bathes my shaft, and your scent intensifies until I can smell myself on you, in you, around you, imprinting in your skin, then neither of us can lie. Then neither of us needs to say a word. We can let our bodies talk, and that's when we don’t need to worry about tomorrow or the past. That's when we can give ourselves up to the sheer enjoyment of each other." I pull out and stay poised on the rim of her entrance. She wraps her legs around me, digs her heels into my back, and tries to urge me closer.

"What neither of us can deny is that you need me."

I push into her, and she moans, "And you need me."

We hold each other’s gaze and I nod. "I do, but only in the carnal sense."

"And I do, in every sense," she says without hesitation. Something weird squeezes my chest; I dare not dwell on it. Instead, I tilt my hips and press in, so my pelvis rubs up against her clit. "I told you, I can’t give you what you want."

She sinks her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck and tugs. My cock twitches inside her. She allows herself a small smile. "And I’m telling you, it’s my choice to share myself with you."

My chest hurts, and my pulse booms at my temples. It’s a trap. A trap. "You’re setting yourself up for a fall."





52





Penny





"That’s my choice, isn’t it?" I hold his gaze, even though everything in me wants to punch him and tell him to wake up and recognize what we have here. I may not have been with any other man, but I’m worldly wise enough to know that if the sex is this explosive, and if the chemistry between us is such a tangible force that I can sense him anytime he’s in the vicinity, and that, despite the fact that he comes across as such an asshole, I can look past his persona to the man he really is inside, then—whatever is between us is worth fighting for. It’s worth trying to convince him that he loves me, too, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

He pulls out of me, then stays poised at my entrance in a way that builds anticipation and makes every part of me tingle and my nerves scream with expectation. Gah, why does he have to tease me like this? I push up my pelvis and try to take him in me, but he clicks his tongue. "You can’t top from the bottom, Little Dove."