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“He’s very handsome,” she simpers. “And he doesn’t talk nearly as often as you do.”
“You want the strong, silent type?” I pace closer. Closer. So she has nowhere to escape to in our tiny, L-shaped kitchen. “You want him instead of me?”
“Of course not, Darling.” She looks up at me when I come to a stop just an inch from her chest. “I feel as though you’re missing my point entirely. I love you. And from now on, I wish to be a better wife to you. I’ll leave the office when I’m supposed to. Overtime isn’t worth losing my marriage over. I’ll cook your dinner. I’ll even let you hold the remote.”
My eyes narrow to dangerous, threatening slits.
“And I’ll never again interfere with your work. I’ve already caused enough trouble for you, Archer. I have no right to be in your interviews, and I definitely have no room to demand a seat at the table when you visit a suspect and ask for their alibi.” She pushes up to her toes, but when I expect her to kiss me on the lips, she diverts at the last second and pecks my cheek instead.
Chaste.
Unfeeling.
Cold.
“I’ll do better,” she sighs. “You didn’t eat much of your dinner. I assume you definitely don’t want dessert?”
“I always want dessert.” I grab her around the waist and pick her up, slamming her ass to the counter so she lands with a bruising thud. She cries out in surprise, the first genuine sound she’s made since I walked through the door. Then she sets her feet on my shoulders and groans when I lower into a crouch and tear her panties away.
This is her. The real her.
Her heavy breathing, and crackling voice.
“I saw through you the second you tried to have me believe you fucked my brother.” I slam two thick fingers inside her already-wet pussy and feel only mild guilt when she falls back and crashes into the cabinetry above. “You’re a workaholic, Mayet. And you have no fucking clue how to not interfere.” I take her clit between my teeth and groan when she comes on my lips. When she gushes onto my tongue so easily and cups the back of my head in her palm. “You’re not a stay-at-home wife,” I grit out. “You didn’t cook that meal because the sauce on those green beans is a secret recipe from Bianconis’ Restaurant down the street. And you have no intention of leaving the office at five. Ever.”
I shove up to my feet and tear the button open on my jeans. Minka’s eyes are wild. Her lips, puffy from the abuse of her teeth. Her chest heaves, and when I slide my zipper down, and after it, my jeans, her breathing stops completely. “Nice try though, Chief.” I grab her hips in rough hands and yank her closer until she almost falls completely off the lip of the counter.
Setting the head of my cock at her fiery opening, I employ every ounce of willpower I possess to not slam straight inside and bury myself in Minka Mayet.
“Call me Detective.”
“What?” She breaks character, finally, and laughs. But hell if she’s not breathy and panting, too. “Archer! I’m not playing out this Detective Big Dick fantasy thing you have going on.”
“I said—” I fist her shirt and wrench it up to reveal her bare tits. Perfect round globes and pretty pink nipples. Then I wrap my arm around her torso and pull her to me until I get a taste. “Call me Detective. You don’t get to ride my cock until you do as I say.”
“Archer—”
I take her nipple between my teeth and bite down just hard enough to make her cry out. “I’m gonna make you bleed. So hurry up and let us fuck. Then I can carry you to bed, give you your medicine, and fuck you again until you sleep.”
“Archer…” Her eyes are hooded, intoxicated already, and watching mine. Drawing a deep breath in, she wriggles her hips in search of fulfillment. In search of me. “Please?”
“You know what you gotta say.” I latch onto her ribs and bite until she squirms. But I don’t let her escape. I slide the tip of my cock into her pussy, but I don’t give her more than that infuriatingly meager taste of what could be. “Seems you forgot who the fuck I am, Chief. You forgot where I come from.”
“Detective.” She breathes the word out and whimpers when I slam inside her. “Fuck me, Detective. Please.”
“Yessssss.” I treat her like shit. No finesse. No tenderness. This isn’t Suzy Homemaker’s lovemaking. This is Malone and Mayet. This is fucking. “Now let me bring work home again. I want to share that with you.”
She chokes out a gurgled laugh and groans when I piston my hips faster. “I wasn’t gonna let you lock me out for long.”
“I’m sorry for taking away your independence and choice today. That was a bad move.”
“Yeah,” she moans. “It was.” She drops her head back and rides my cock. “But I forgive you.”
MINKA
Iwake the next morning to the scent of fresh coffee rolling from the bedside table, stubble-surrounded lips weaving magic against my flesh, and the controlled breathing of the one man on the planet who can wreck me.
But he doesn’t want to.
