Page 49 of Married to the Enemy

She giggled as he muttered several expletives, his hands diving into her hair. He tried to pull her up, but she resisted. The task was pretty simple since his strength evaporated as soon as she took him into her mouth.

Flicking her tongue playfully against the sensitive tip, then taking as much of him as possible, she savored the moment, feeling powerful and sexy as she teased him. Over and over, she slid her mouth down over his length, one hand gripping the part she couldn’t take, tightening her hand around his throbbing girth.

“Mia!” he snapped warningly, teetering on the very edge of bliss. It was such a turn on, she sucked harder, using her tongue to drive him wild.

That must have been his undoing because Mia suddenly found herself flat on her back, her legs over his shoulders. Before she could protest, Raffe slid a finger into her heat, then sucked on that throbbing nubbin of desire. She nearly exploded right then and there. But he pulled back before she could reach release. Then he did it again. She moaned, rolling her hips in desperation. Again, he pulled back.

“Who’s in charge?” he growled.

“I am!” she declared with a laugh, but regretted her teasing when he sucked again, his fingers curling within her, teasing those nerves both inside and out. She was so close, so dangerously on edge that she grabbed his head, begging him not to stop.

“Who is in charge?’ he snarled this time.

“You are!” she gasped, lifting her hips entreatingly, trying to entice him to give her what she needed.

This time, because she gave him the right answer, when he leaned down again, there was no teasing. It was hard sucking, his tongue flicking against that overly stimulated bundle of nerves while his finger caressed the inside. She screamed with her release, her body convulsing with overwhelming pleasure, as she gasped for air.

Finally, he pulled back, her body quaking with aftershocks. When she opened her eyes, she saw Raffe rolling protection down his hard, enticing erection. As she watched, he came back to her, her legs again flung over his shoulders. He thrust into her, deeply, her body already primed so she took him without resistance.

But that friction started the pleasure all over again. He thrust fast and hard, losing himself within her until her nails scraped down his arms with another release. Only then did he truly let go, thrusting into her hard once, twice, then stilling as his body shuddered with his own orgasm.

A long time later, Mia rolled closer, snuggling against his chest. “Thank you for telling me,” She whispered, leaning into his hands as he stroked her hair. “My father came to me today.” That gentle hand stilled and she felt him tense. She didn’t have the energy to open her eyes but she smiled, patting his chest. “He said you were using me to get to him.” She snuggled closer, sliding her leg over his thigh. “You were right last night. Someone is watching from the backyard. The picture he showed me was taken from the back fence line.” She yawned heavily, then adjusted her chin closer to his neck. And then she fell into a deep, contented sleep.

Chapter 35

Jim Fuller flexed his fingers, the ache in his knuckles reminding him of the bail paperwork he’d had to sign that morning. He was free—for now. But broke. His so-called ‘perfect life’—state money rolling in, no questions asked, a fridge stocked with cheap beer, and a woman to nag about nothing important—had been ripped away from him when they’d taken the foster kids away!

And it was all her fault.

That uppity girl. Mia. Marching into his world, tearing it down. Acting like she was a savior to kids who didn’t know how good they had it.

Jim gritted his teeth and drove slowly past her house. Big place. Too big. Rich-people fancy with turrets and too many damn windows. He parked a few streets over, waiting. Watching. When their cars finally pulled away, everyone off to their jobs or appointments or whatever the hell those damn people did during the day, Jim crept back through the landscaping, determined to do…something. He hadn’t figured out what, exactly.

The side window gave him easy access. A rock through the glass, a quick shove, and he was inside, unknowingly walking right past the blinking red light of a security camera that was currently tracking his movements.

He padded up the stairs, checking doors one by one. Too clean. Too tidy. But then he found it—her room. A pile of leggings in the corner, girly makeup on the dresser, a hint of something floral in the air.

“Perfect,” he muttered.

He pulled the knife from his boot, his grin stretching as the blade gleamed in the light. One slash down the pillows made the feathers explode like snow. Another through the mattress, the sound of tearing fabric and foam thrilling him. He went wild on the blankets and the sheets, carving them into ribbons.

The thought of her walking in to see this mess sent a wave of satisfaction through him. The bitch had ruined his life. So now he’d ruined something she loved. Finally, a win.

Jim turned to the closet, his fingers twitching with anticipation. He could shred every pretty little thing she owned. But just as he reached for the first blouse, a sound startled him.

Sirens.

His stomach dropped. How the hell had they known he was here?

Jim glanced around, his eyes furtive and panicked. He was out on bail! This was…bad! “No, no, no—”

He bolted, pounding down the stairs, the knife still clutched in his hand. He dove for the window he’d broken earlier, getting one leg out as the red-and-blue lights danced in the air.

“Don’t move!” someone yelled.

The command thundered behind him. He turned, half-falling back into the room as a pair of cops swarmed through the front door.

Cold steel clamped around his wrists, yanking his arms behind his back.