Page 47 of The Mister I Married

Somehow he chuckled at that, his impatient wife barking orders at a time like this, but it was precisely the response he needed. He drew back a bit then surged forward, through her maidenhead, and she stiffened beneath him.

He froze, his gaze searching her face for signs of pain, but when her eyes met his, her expression was strangely impassive.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Do go on.” Her words and her body were stiff with stoicism.

Alex frowned. Well, that wouldn’t do at all.

Pushing his need aside, he caressed one breast, palming her, rolling the pert nipple between his fingers. Her lips parted, her eyes glazing over, and he began to move again, his thrusts slow and gentle until she began to soften beneath him.

He bent his head to her breast and drew the rosy tip into his mouth, flicking his tongue back and forth before sucking deep.

Emmy’s arms drew him closer, her legs wrapping around his waist, all plump thighs and silken calves.

“God, Emmy, you bedevil me,” he rasped, just as she tilted her hips and arched into him, drawing a grunt of approval from deep in his chest.

“Good,” she gasped, surprising a strangled laugh out of him.

He increased his pace, thrusting hard, harder than he probably should, but the pleasure was so acute he could barely breathe.

He was close now. Too close.

He reached between their bodies to stroke her intimately, his fingers circling and teasing, and then she stiffened and cried out, her cunny squeezing his cock, milking him as her orgasm shuddered through her body.

Alex let go then, thrusting deep, once, twice, throwing his head back as he emptied his seed inside her.

Never in his life had he felt so adrift, so out of his mind. So out of control.

He shouldn’t like it, except he did.

In fact, he thought it was bloody magnificent.