Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Fuck.
I see the same heat I saw when we met. The fear. The hatred. The desperation. Everything around me drops into slow motion, as I study my wife’s long, slow strides toward the office, her head turning slowly back away from me. My feet start to move without instruction, and I follow her, people parting to let me through.
My trousers getting tighter.
And tighter.
My pulse pounding.
I make it to the office downstairs and find her standing in the middle of the room. If she stops me right now, I’ll fucking cry. “Who was she?” she asks as I close the door.
“Elsa Dove. Owns the Pink Flamingo. She told Brad she had information we would want. Turns out she was trying to get into my trousers and expected protection in return for blowing my mind in bed. She would have had Brad before I got here. I told her I was married. I told her I love my wife. She didn’t care. I put a text in to Higham to find out what he knows about her. The FBI have connected her to the Russians. I expect Sandy’s protecting her and he’s sent her in to try and seduce me. Get information. I don’t know. I wanted to kill her. Couldn’t. You could.” I raise my eyebrows. “That’s everything.” I step forward. “Now I want to fuck my wife and reinforce a few things.” Another step.
Her shoulders roll back. Her skin lights up. “Like what?”
“Like I’d rather cut my dick off than let another woman near it.” I reach her and tug her close, looking down at her. “Get on the desk and open your legs.”
“And if I say no?”
I smile. It’s dark. “Try.” I can smell her desire. Taste it in the air between us. “Go on, baby. Try to say no to me.”
Her eyes drop to my lips briefly before she moves fast, attacking me, hands in my hair, cupping my face, her tongue owning me. Her kiss totally fucking owning me.
And I’m home.
I walk her to the desk and get her on the wood, keeping up our kiss as I rip her blouse apart and she yanks my shirt open, buttons popping and flying everywhere. The anticipation. The desperation. Fucking hell, this office could go up in flames. She starts on my belt, wrenching it open as I push her blouse down her arms, forcing her to release the belt, but she’s soon back to work, her mission to get to me ruling her. I’m throbbing.
And when she reaches past my boxers and wraps her hand around me, I have to break the kiss, yelling, the pressure immense, the pleasure like nothing else. I’m fucking dizzy. I look at her smudged lipstick. Her wild hair. Her drowsy eyes. “Stroke me,” I whisper, grunting when she pulls a slow caress. “Fuck,” I hiss, my trousers dropping to my ankles. I need to be inside her before I come right here in her palm. I knock her hand away and push her down to the wood, pulling her leathers open and yanking them down her legs, taking her heels off with them. Hands behind her thighs, I tug her down, watching as I slide right in and she inhales. I look up at her tits. Her black bra. I know my limits. I know hers. I leave her boobs and slide out, watching intently as my cock slips free, glistening.
And I slide back in.
Out.
In.
Steady, slow, and she moans, writhing languidly. My skin tingles, buzzes. I take my thumb to her clit and start rolling it softly around to help her along—I need her with me.
“Danny,” she whispers, clinging to the edge of the desk.
I see it rising in her, the heat, the pleasure, and the pressure. My balls throb, my shaft pulses. “Fuck,” I wheeze, increasing my pace. “Fuck, Rose.”
“Yes!”
“Rose!”
Faster.
“Fuck, yes!”
Faster.
“Rose, tell me!”
“Shit, Danny!”
Faster.
“Oh my God!”
Faster.
“Rose!”
“Yes!”
“Fuck!”
“I’m coming!”
I apply more pressure on her clit and smash into her like a depraved madman, and it hits me like a fucking bulldozer, taking me out, making my body fold over her to deal with the attack of pleasure, my chokes real, my head spinning, her screams ringing in my ears. “Jesus,” I gasp, being milked dry by her muscles.
“I can’t breathe,” she pants, heaving beneath me, my head rolling where it’s lying on her chest. “Fucking hell, Danny.”
I blink, trying to clear my vision, the aftermath of my orgasm still rippling through me. I grit my teeth, the intensity not letting up, as I roll into her gently but firmly. I’m still coming, and Rose is still shaking under me. I drag my eyes up to see her sweaty face. “That’s what happens when you deprive me.”
She smiles, if mildly, stroking through my hair, and I shift up, framing her head with my forearms. “I’m going to find him, Rose,” I whisper, not feeling I need to go into details. She knows.