Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(80)
His hot, minty breath fans against my lips, and when I move again, he grips me in place. “Baby, hold up. I need a second.”
I clench at the term of endearment, hands draped over his shoulders as I watch him. Adam’s apple bobbing, tongue darting out over that full bottom lip.
No wonder it was so hard to hate him. Especially now, looking so undone, so vulnerable—all for me. It’s like my body knew all along and was just waiting for my mind to catch up.
My fingers rake over the back of his neck, and I search his eyes. Irises so dark, yet sparkling so brightly.
He shakes his head softly, disbelief flashing over his features, and then he drops his mouth to mine. His palm is flat and firm, moving up the column of my spine before his fingers tangle in my hair.
And then he’s kissing me. Holding me. Pumping into me. That sting from earlier transforms into the most delicious ache as we join.
We take our time, all those protective walls we put up crumbling down between us as my hips roll and his hands roam. My chest aches from the tenderness of it, the reverent exploration freeing in so many ways.
His stubble against my neck tips my head back as I give him space to keep going. “Goddamn, you feel so good. So tight. So wet.”
My hips drop harder as I ride him.
“So fucking eager.”
The frenzy inside me builds. His praise feels too good to keep going slow. It makes me hungrier. “More, Rhys. Give me more.”
He chuckles, low and sensual, in my ear. “So fucking demanding too. Downright desperate—”
“I’m not—”
He cuts me off when he turns us so that he’s seated on the edge of the bed. Then he flips me like I’m a doll, manhandling me into position so that I’m still straddling him but facing away.
Facing the mirror that I so lovingly propped against the wall for him.
And I can’t look away. The dim light from the stairs lights the space enough to give me a clear view of what he’s doing to me. With both hands on my waist, he lifts me, lines us up, and slowly impales me on his cock.
He watches from over my shoulder, both of us panting and unable to look away as he fills me. The way his hands look on my body, the way his tattoos look even darker in the shadows—it all makes me wetter. My chest blazes with heat, and my nipples tingle so intensely that I reach for them, twisting gently between my thumb and fingers.
“See? Look at you. You gonna tell me you’re not desperate for it?”
“Maybe you’re the one who’s desperate for it.”
Our eyes meet in the mirror. Dark on dark.
He lifts me and drops me down again. I whimper, refusing to admit it out loud to him. That one last shred of power is just too fucking hard to relinquish.
He hums a low chuckle at my silence and bites my shoulder before smoothing away the sharpness with a delicious swipe of his tongue. “Desperate to fill my wife’s tight little cunt once and for all?”
I suck in a breath as he moves again. Pulling out. Pushing in.
“Why would I ever bother denying that? Especially since I promised you no more secrets?” The pace between us ratchets up a notch. His thrusts come more quickly. The pads of my fingers pinch harder. His soft lips and bristly stubble at the crook of my neck make me squirm in his lap to the point where I’m practically bouncing on him.
“Been dreaming about bending you over since that first day you waltzed into my house, Tabby. So yeah, I’d say I’m desperate for it.”
“Fuck.” From a man who went from telling me nothing at all, that confession hits like a wrecking ball. Warmth spreads throughout my body, and my hamstrings tighten.
His palm slips around my front, fingers finding my clit with mind-numbing accuracy. He circles there as we rock together.
“But I think what I’m most desperate for is seeing you come. Right here, riding my cock, where I can watch you.”
One glance up at the mirror, and his intense glare pierces me. I look downright wanton. Wild in his arms. His fingers work my clit. His cock fills me. And his words undo me.
I come hard and fast and on a breathless shout that pitches me forward. Heat suffuses every limb, and my entire body pulses. A sheen of sweat breaks out across my skin as my heart beats in time with his.
Too far gone to keep my eyes open, I don’t watch in the mirror. But he does.
I hear his raspy, “Fucking beautiful,” right before his grip goes rougher. He fucks me with reckless abandon as my pussy continues to spasm around him.
Within seconds, he joins me. His release rushes into me as I take it all and revel in every throb of his cock.
He lifts me without pulling out, hugging my back to his front as his forehead rests on the top of my shoulder while we both attempt to catch our breath.
And all I can think is that I am desperate for it. Because I definitely want to do that again.
CHAPTER 35
Rhys
I WAKE UP IN THE SAME BASEMENT THAT I’VE WOKEN UP IN many times over the past couple of months, but nothing about this morning feels the same.
I’m surrounded by color and texture and thoughtful touches.
Cleo is curled between my feet.
And Tabitha is tucked against my side—naked—with her hand laid over my chest.
I’m not sure I’ve ever opened my eyes and felt so instantly happy. So at home. Like I could just lie here all day soaking it up.