“You don’t remember,” she states as I slowly inch her gown down her shoulder to reveal her creamy skin.
“Pointing out the obvious.”
She jerks away and spins around. “You were drunk, so I got you a blanket.”
“And then decided to crawl up beside me?”
Her cheeks redden, and she turns to leave again, but I grab her hair and yank her flush against my chest. She gasps, breathing hard, tits straining against the silk fabric of her flimsy gown.
“How come you didn’t kill me?” I ask, tweaking one of her nipples into a hard bud. “The gun was right there.”
Panting, she tries to elbow me, but her attempts are half-assed. “I didn’t know it was there.”
“Bullshit, and you know it. Are you feeling sentimental, wife?”
“Don’t be delusional. I hate you with every atom in my body.”
I chuckle, nipping at her ear. “Such foreplay. You had your chance, and you blew it.”
Cecilia wrestles free, throwing me up against the wall, and then her lips are on mine and her hands are in my hair, tugging and pulling. She climbs me like a tree while I tear her robe open to palm her full breasts and squeeze her ass.
Fuck me; she’s perfection.
I growl into her mouth as I spin us around. “You should have killed me.”
She breaks away, her pretty green eyes falling to my lips, and a smirk crosses her face as she lowers my joggers. “It’s not too late.”
My cock springs free, pulsing in her grip, and when she tugs, my knees nearly buckle.
“Fuck,” I whisper, kissing her hard and deep, my hands in her long hair.
“It would be a waste of a perfectly fine cock if I killed you,” she says, humming into my mouth, stroking me in long, maddening pulls while an erotic smile plays on her lips.
Grabbing her perfect perky ass, I grind against her. Why does she have to be my weakness and hold so much power over me? I love and hate it in equal measure.
In a few short weeks, she has burrowed so deep beneath my skin that there’s no chance of redemption. I’m a lost cause and a fucking glutton for her.
“I should’ve known you only wanted me for my body,” I tease, fucking her hand.
“You could benefit from a personality transplant.”
“Is that so?”
Cecilia traps her lip between her teeth while running her thumb over the weeping crown and pulls me closer with a firm grip. I nearly come on the spot when she flashes a flirtysmile that’s all sex and debauchery, and then she says, “You’re intolerable at the best of times.”
“I love your aggression.”
“You do, huh?” Palming my balls with her free hand, she digs her long nails into the sensitive skin.
Turned on beyond belief and a little afraid by this crazy, unpredictable vixen, I suck in a breath and grab hold of the bookshelf behind her. “You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?”
“And you’re an asshole. Don’t we make the perfect couple?”
“The fucking best.” I slam my lips to her soft ones and flatten her against the shelf. Fuck. I could taste her all day long. Stay here and kiss until my lungs shrivel up. “You were right about one thing,” I say as books tumble to the floor.
“Yeah?” she pants between hungry kisses, hiking her thigh around my hip and guiding me to her slick entrance.
Shivers race along my skin as I trail kisses down her neck. “We do have a thing for bookshelves.” I bite her pulse point, reveling in her whimper.
