Page 55 of The Mister I Married

And then she dropped to her knees.

“Emmy…” he gasped, a half-hearted attempt at refusing her, though God knew he wanted her mouth on him—that he was, in fact, desperate for it.

“You don’t have to do this,” he gritted out, even as his cock disagreed, pulsing eagerly in her hands.

“I know.”

And then she leaned forward, and Alex nearly lost his grip at the first slide of those lush, wet lips over the head of his cock.

“Good God,” he muttered, his mouth falling open on a ragged groan. “Emmy…”

He gazed down at his wife, her dark, silky hair gleaming in the candlelight as she sucked him into her mouth. It was an image so erotic he knew he would remember it until the day he died.

Unable to keep still, he threaded his fingers through her hair and pumped his hips a little as she loved him with her tongue, licking and stroking as if she liked the taste of him.

He gritted his teeth. Christ above. He could spill in her mouth this moment if he allowed himself to.

“If I should do anything you do not like,” Emmy said, drawing back to peer up at him, “please do tell me so.” An impish smile played at the corners of her plump, wet lips, and even through the haze of lust, Alex was awestruck, staggered by her soft, dimpled cheeks and gorgeous, mischievous eyes.

Needing to taste her sweet lips, he urged her to her feet and kissed her deeply, reverently, expressing the words he could not voice aloud but wanted to ask as her subtle, sweet pea scent fell over him like pixie dust.

She leaned into his body, returning his kiss eagerly, her muslin skirts wrapping around his legs, and he realized then that she still wore her gown.

How in blazes was she still dressed?

He wanted her naked. Now.

“Come,” he murmured against her lips. “I think it’s time I balanced the scales a bit.”

Emmy held her breath, her stomach fluttering as Alex began to loosen the row of buttons running down her back.

She’d never been undressed by a man before. It had always been a maid or a friend, another woman—never a man, and certainly not one who made her shiver the way her husband did with every brush of his knuckles at her back, every breath that rustled the tendrils of hair at her nape.

Her body flushed hot, his touch sparking, heightening the desire simmering in her veins.

It was a singular experience.

Of course, she’d never pleasured a man’s member with her mouth before, either, and that had been a singular experience, too. One she was eager to repeat. She’d liked the unadulterated pleasure that had stretched across Alex’s face, the raw desire, the near loss of control. She wanted to do it again, only next time, she would not settle for near.

A low growl sounded from behind her, followed by a muttered oath. “Godforsaken buttons…bloody impossible…”

Emmy turned her head, her brows arching at this rare show of temper. “Shall I ring for a maid?” she asked over her shoulder, trying not to smile.

“No. There’s no need.”

The determined edge to his voice should have warned her, but she had only seconds to consider what his words might mean before the sound of shredding satin rent the room, followed by the patter of buttons on the floor.

Emmy gasped, her gaze locked on the tiny black buttons at her feet. “Alex! This is one of my favorite gowns!”

“I’ll have it repaired,” he said, his voice rough, though his hands were gentle as they slipped her sleeves over her shoulders and down her arms.

The mangled gown fell to the floor in a shush of blue satin, leaving her clad in only her stockings and chemise.

“I think it is beyond repair, Alex.” His warm hands closed around her forearms, and a shiver ran through her.

“Then I’ll buy you a new one.”

“That is not the—”