“Oh my God. Seriously?” My knees were weak, but when he pushed me down on the bed, I knew I wanted another round. “I want to be on top.”
His eyebrows rose with surprise, but his eyes went even darker with desire.
“Whatever my wife wants,” he said.
I tried to ignore the thrill I got from being referred to as his wife, and instead gave him a push so that he fell back onto the bed. I watched his face as I climbed onto him, his gaze going from my face to my breasts and then lower. He licked his lips, and I wanted to do the same. Seeing Ford stretched out on the bed in all his naked glory made me hot. It seemed impossible that I would still want more after the two explosive orgasms he’d already given me, but as I guided him back inside me, I realized that when it came to Ford Malone, I might be insatiable.
The feeling seemed mutual.
I straddled Ford, his cock sliding into me deliciously, his hands coming up to rest on my hips. I half expected him to take charge again, but he let me set the pace. I spread my legs wide, my knees on either side of his hips. Then I started rocking. His eyes were dark with lust, and I knew I was giving him a perfect view of his favorite parts of my body.
“Mmm,” I moaned, taking my sweet time to slowly pick up speed.
I fucked him hard but slow, reminding him wordlessly that I had control in this—even though it often felt like I didn’t have control over anything else in my life. As I sank lower onto him, I realized I wanted to make him come. Wanted him to shatter into a million pieces.
“Ford,” I said breathily. “You feel so good.”
Arching my back, I thrust my breasts forward and tilted my head back. I wanted Ford to watch my tits bounce as I fucked him.
I began to move faster and faster. As I did, I used my inner muscles to squeeze Ford tightly. He let out a choked moan, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts, his fingers pinching my nipples. I knew he wanted me to come first, but I wasn’t going to allow that. He needed to know that right now, I was the one in charge.
And I was going to give him an orgasm he’d never forget.
“Em,” he choked out. I could tell that he was getting close, but didn’t want to let go.
Too bad I wasn’t giving him a choice.
I leaned into his hands, his fingers still squeezing my nipples as I began to raise and lower myself on his cock, taking him deeper each time. I could feel my own orgasm racing toward me and my fingers slipped down to my wet, slippery clit.
“You’re so deep,” I moaned. “So deep in my pussy.”
His breaths were getting more shallow and I knew he was doing everything he could to hold back.
“I want to feel you come,” I purred, egging him on. “I want you to come so hard.”
I was moving faster and faster, rubbing my clit while I squeezed my inner muscles around Ford’s cock, all the friction and heat between us reaching the point of no return.
“Fuck!” he gasped, losing all control, grabbing my hips and pulling me down on his cock as he thrust up inside me in hot, shuddering spurts. “Emzee,” he was moaning, over and over.
It was all I needed to send me over the edge. My orgasm began to crest, and I shut my eyes and whispered Ford’s name, bracing myself against his shoulders as the pleasure spread through me in rippling waves, my whole body shaking with the intensity of it. It felt endless.
Afterward I lay there, head against Ford’s chest. As I listened to his pounding heartbeat, I knew without a doubt that he would never, ever forget this night.
Emzee
Chapter 6
Iwas home in Chicago again, and thank God.
The romantic environment of St. Barts—and the fact that Ford and I had fucked on nearly every surface in the villa—had made it impossible to keep my feelings at bay for the rest of our trip. But despite the fantasy, I’d known we couldn’t stay in our little bubble forever. Because no matter how hot the sex had been, no matter how romantic the honeymoon, none of that changed the reality of our situation.
In less than a year, I’d have to divorce Ford and walk away for good.
Which meant that I had to go back to protecting my heart.
Unfortunately, my head was still swimming with indelible memories of the two of us in paradise. We’d picnicked on the beach every day, marveling at the weather and the free-roaming iguanas. Most afternoons we windsurfed, swam, or went snorkeling, genuinely enjoying each other’s company all the while. And Ford had made my foodie dreams come true by taking me to the island’s best restaurants for dinner each night. Our concierge Phillipe had proven to be an invaluable resource for recommendations of both Michelin-worthy places offering leisurely, lavish, multi-course meals as well as the lesser known beachside spots where you could get insanely good ceviche, spicy Creole food, fresh mahi-mahi en brochette, and rum punch.
Sigh.
