My heart seemed to squeeze in my chest. I didn’t know if his words were true. It was obvious that he wanted me, and desperately, but I didn’t know if it was the booze talking, or pure animal lust, or if Stefan genuinely loved me and needed to be with me in this moment.
I was torn. There was no denying that my body had already begun to respond to his touches, but I didn’t want sex to confuse the situation. Was this the right thing for us to do considering everything that was going on with Anja and the boy, and our marriage quite possibly in jeopardy? On the other hand, I loved him. I always would. Every part of me cried out for him.
Stefan’s hands roamed my body, sliding up under my tank top to cup my breasts. Then his fingers tweaked my nipples just the way I liked, the way that made me so hot I couldn’t see straight, so hot that all rational thought fled my mind. I squirmed in the bed, grinding my ass back into him. He knew exactly what he was doing to me.
There was no holding back the soft moan that escaped my lips as he pinched and stroked both of my nipples at the same time, sending bursts of pleasure and pain through me, waves of hot need going directly to my clit. It felt so good, it was hard to imagine stopping. My hips were grinding faster under the sheets, meeting and encouraging the thrusts of his bare cock against my ass. I was desperate for him, for his dick, for his attention and affection.
But I didn’t want to let myself be taken by him, body and soul, when I knew full well that there was still a chance he’d walk away to be with Anja and his son. When what I should be doing was building a wall between Stefan and myself, blocking off my feelings for him.
God, I could feel myself getting wetter every second that he had his hands on me.
If I was being honest, I wanted to protect myself from even more heartache—but I wanted to take care of him, too. And I could tell that he needed me, by his words and actions. That in itself was intoxicating.
I loved my husband. There was no doubt in my mind. And if our relationship was solid, was as strong as I thought, then it would withstand a blow like the one it had taken tonight. These new revelations might shake us, but they wouldn’t destroy us. Wouldn’t change what we had built together.
That’s what I wanted to believe.
Because I needed him just as much as he needed me.
And, if I was wrong about everything—if nothing I felt in my heart about Stefan and me was actually true—then this might be the last night that we were together.
I pulled away, turning in Stefan’s arms to face him. He searched my eyes, but before I could speak his lips halted my words, his tongue stroking aggressively against mine. I was hungry for him. Our mutual desperation was unstoppable as we devoured each other’s mouths.
If he was drunk on his father’s whiskey, I was just as drunk with my own desire, my hands wrapping around his neck as he rolled me onto my back, tugging my pants and underwear off and my top over my head.
“Stefan,” I panted between kisses, “I need you, too. I need you now.”
His hands slipped down, forcing my legs open, wrapping them around his hips. He rubbed the head of his cock against my swollen lips, the sensation so intense that I cried out into his mouth. He didn’t let me go. Didn’t give me a moment to breathe as he kissed me deeper.
I felt hot tears at the corners of my eyes, the intensity of my emotions and my desire overwhelming me. Trying to blink them away, I only succeeded in forcing them out, and Stefan immediately pulled back.
“What did I do?” he whispered. “Am I hurting you?”
Answering that was too fucking complicated. Lying was easier.
“No,” I murmured. “I just…love you. I need to be with you.”
Reaching for him, I pulled his mouth back down onto mine until I was lost in his kiss again. I didn’t break away until I had to stop to catch my breath.
“You should have stayed with me earlier,” Stefan said as his hand slid between my legs, tracing my seam. “I wanted you to stay.”
I shook my head, hissing as his fingers found my clit, stroking softly.
“You needed to be with her,” I said. “Alone.” As he pinched my clit between his thumb and forefinger, tugging gently, I gasped. It felt good. Too good. So good it hurt.
I loved it, the pain and pleasure mixing together. It was perfect. He was perfect.
“I neededyou,” he insisted.
Tears threatened again, so I unhooked my legs from around his waist and rolled onto my side. I was afraid to speak, afraid that anything more I tried to say would be my undoing, but Stefan only came up behind me and spooned my body in his, holding me tight as he nuzzled my hair. We were positioned the same as before, his cock still raging hard as it pressed into me. Fighting this was futile. I knew exactly what I wanted.
I arched back against him with renewed urgency, wanting to feel him, wanting to be close, but knowing I’d be unable to look at my husband without tears welling up in my eyes.
His hand slid down to my pussy, where I was wet and ready. He stroked my clit again, making me moan slowly, deeply, drinking in every drop of pleasure. Then, without warning, he thrust a finger deep inside of me, forcing my hips back harder against his cock.
“Fuck,” I groaned, bearing down on his finger, wanting more.
“You like that?” he asked. “You like it when I fuck you with my hands?”
