“Bossy,” I whisper.
His mouth tilts. “I’m your husband. I earned bossy.”
That gets a laugh out of me right up until his hand slips into my panties and cups me.
Then all I do is gasp.
His forehead drops to mine for one second while his thumb drags over me, slow and knowing and filthy in the way only he can be.
“Still this wet for me after three years,” he murmurs. “I like that.”
My whole face burns.
“Tank.”
“What?” He brushes me again, harder this time.
I laugh and moan at the same time. His mouth finds mine before I can answer, and the kiss goes deep fast.
I get his belt open while he kisses me. He gets my panties off with less patience than that. Then he sinks to his knees between my thighs, and the look he gives me from there still nearly undoes me.
“Tank.”
“Yeah, angel?”
I should say something smart.
I do not.
Because he puts his mouth on me and every thought in my head burns to ash.
My hand flies to his hair. The other grips the edge of the counter. Tank eats me like he has all the time in the world and none at all, one big hand spreading my thigh wide while his mouth works me over until my breathing shatters.
“Please,” I whisper.
That gets his eyes on mine.
“Please what?”
Mean.
He is so mean when he knows exactly what I need.
“Please don’t stop.”
His mouth curves against my skin. “That’s my girl.”
Then he gives me exactly what I asked for.
I come hard enough to make the whole kitchen tilt, my hand tangled in his hair, my body shaking with it while he holds me through every second.
When he stands again, his mouth is swollen and his eyes are wrecked and I swear I could get off just looking at him.
He kisses me and lets me taste myself on him.
That gets another helpless sound out of me.
He pushes his cock into me in one smooth thrust, and I cry out, legs locking around his waist, pulling him deeper.
