Page 65 of Ruthless Enforcer

I moan, arching up, wanting his mouth back on me. “You look way too happy about this.”

“I’m a generous husband.” He licks me.

A moaning laugh breaks out of me, breathless and helpless.

His grin softens, and he kisses the inside of my thigh. “Come, wife. I’ve got you.”

He lowers his mouth and places an angel’s kiss on my clit before sucking it between his lips.

Bowing off the bed, I come again, slower this time, deeper, rolling through me in waves that leave me boneless and gasping.

He doesn't stop.

I'm begging him to, and then I’m begging him not to. And suddenly I’m soaring again, and again, rising higher and higher instead of falling.

With one last licking kiss, he says, “Good girl," and then he crawls up my body with a wicked grin. "Now we’re ready to play."

I can’t feel my limbs, but God help me, I want to know exactly what Gabriel Reyes considers playing.

He strips off the towel and the shorts underneath, and I get my first full look at him.

He's big. Thick. The head of his cock is flushed and glistening, and I can see the veins running along the shaft. My mouth goes dry.

"You've been staring at my hands for two days," he says, running a hand over himself. "Want to tell me what you think about the rest of me?"

Still breathless, I bring my knees up on either side of his legs. "I'm thinking you're very pleased with yourself."

"I am." He reaches for the nightstand, pulling out a condom. "And you're about to be very pleased with me, so it works out."

I laugh despite myself, breathless and flushed, and he grins at me like he's won something.

"Second thoughts?" he asks, his voice dropping lower as he rolls the condom on with practiced efficiency. “We can stop here.”

"I don’t want to stop." Ever.

“Good, because I’ve wanted you since the museum, Duchess. I’ve just been pretending I have better self-control.” He settles between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against me.

I tense instinctively at the pressure.

He stops immediately. "Breathe," he says, his hand cupping my face. "Look at me."

I do.

"This is probably going to hurt," he says quietly, the teasing gone from his voice. "But I’m going to make damn sure it feels good too. You trust me?"

"Yes."

He lowers his mouth to kiss me. "Say it again."

"I trust you." I kiss him.

He takes the invitation and runs with it, his lips and tongue turning the kiss deep and hungry, one hand sliding into my hair as he pulls me closer, kissing me like trust is something he intends to earn all over again.

I sink into him, dizzy with the taste of myself on his lips, until I forget where his mouth ends and mine begins. I’m so lost in it that I don’t realize he’s notched between my legs.

He pushes inside slowly, carefully. The stretch is immediate and overwhelming. I gasp at the intrusion, and he stops, giving me time to adjust, still kissing me like he can’t get enough.

"Breathe, Clara," he says again, biting my lip. He lowers a hand to my breast, covering it, rolling my nipple between his fingers.