Page 44 of Guilty as Sin

With his wicked chuckle, he rubs my clit exactly as I need. As my orgasm crashes over me, Brady shoves his cock into my pussy. I’m so wet he’s buried up to the hilt in one thrust, and I cry out at the sheer size of him. He digs his fingers into my hips, holding himself in place as I thrash on his cock.

I’m gasping for air, but there’s no recovery. Before my spasms subside, he angles his hips how he wants me, then pulls back his cock to ram into me as hard as he can. He shows me no mercy as he slams into me again and again, drilling me into the counter. His thick cock shoves so deep I feel it in my belly, and the way he has me pinned drives each stroke harder against my G-spot.

I scream as another orgasm tears through me. My legs give out, but he holds me upright, bracing me against the counter as his thrusts become frenzied. He groans in pleasure, and the feel of his cock throbbing inside me makes me pulse around him again. He buries his face in my neck, the scratch of his beard a thousand points of stimulation as he bucks his hips one last time, spasming inside me before going still.

Our chests heave, our bodies sweaty as Brady rests his forehead between my shoulder blades. He presses a soft kiss to my skin.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

Chapter 21

Brady

I knew she’d succumb. I also knew it would be incredible.

But fuck me that was the most mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had.

I know it was for her too. The way she came on my cock, her pussy so goddamn tight. I know without a doubt she’s never had a cock like mine.

After the best fuck of my life, I go to my room to collect myself. Put on pants, splash cold water on my face. I opt against taking a shower. I love my wife’s scent on me.

I leave my bedroom door open, just in case. I know it’s wishful thinking. And yet, when I get out of the bathroom, Cora’s standing in my room. My heart rate increases at the sight of her.

Her long hair is damp, the smooth chocolate of it now black wavy tendrils. She’s wearing nothing but an oversized dark blue T-shirt as she studies my favorite painting on the wall. It’s a Teskey seascape of the Irish coast. The rugged blues match the loose shirt above my wife’s bare, shapely legs.

It takes me a moment to realize she’s wearing my shirt. An undershirt, really. She must’ve picked it up from the kitchen floor.

“I can get you a clean shirt, you know.” I stride over to my closet.

I’ve got no shirt on, only black sweatpants. The way she turns to track my body across the room makes me proud. All those hours in the gym have been worth it.

“That would defeat the point,” she says.

She presses her nose into the fabric of my shirt and breathes deep, emitting that little moan of hers. The sight of her enjoying my scent drives me wild. I give up on the closet and stride over to her.

Cora yelps in surprise when I pick her up, gripping her by her perfect ass. She clings to my bare torso, and I carry her to bed. When I throw her down onto it, she looks up at me with greedy expectation.

This time, I’m able to take my time with her. She comes twice on my tongue, then I fuck her with my cock. Like a good girl, she begs for it. As I push myself inside her, she wraps her legs around my waist. Like she can’t get enough of me.

“I knew you would beg for my cock,” I tell her. Her pussy grips me tighter in response. Seconds later, she moans for me to come inside her again.

This time, I tell her not to clean up. She agrees, but then heads for the bathroom anyway, leaving the door open. I take a moment to catch my breath.

But if she’s directly defying me again, I’d like to know about it.

I follow her to the bathroom and lean in the doorway. She’s bent over the counter, her face close to the mirror. She’s put my T-shirt back on, which is a great look for her. She’s also got my come leaking down the inside of her leg, which is even better.

I see her grimace in the mirror. She appears to be inspecting her eyes. Must be an eye doctor thing. Check your eyes before you go to bed.

The realization slams into my gut. She’s checking her pupils for dilation. Concussion protocol. That fucking bastard of Seven’s must’ve hit her in the head.

All because I failed to protect her.

I walk away. I get the penlight from its utility drawer and take a deep breath. When I return to Cora, she’s still trying to get a good look at her pupils. But you can’t examine your own eyes.

I go to her and touch her shoulder, gently turning her around. She’s confused at first. Then I show her the penlight, and she nods in understanding. Good. My throat is too thick for me to speak right now.

I hold her pointed chin between my thumb and forefinger. She looks up at me with trust.