Page 20 of Solitary Man

His gaze turned searching, and I quickly looked away. I didn’t want to talk about the reason those words had been torn from me. I wanted to make my husband feel good, feel wanted. So instead of avoiding me tomorrow, he’d seek me out. Instead of my second-guessing what he needed, he’d ask.

Take.

I shivered and leaned in, dragging my tongue over the head of his cock.

“Oh Christ.” He slapped a hand down hard on the table as the fingers of his other hand tangled in my hair. “Do that again…please, darlin’?”

I did, and he jolted.

“How many times have you fantasized about this?” I asked, then licked him again.

His nostrils flared. “So many.”

I tilted my head back and sucked the head into my mouth, swirling around it with my tongue. Cash made a broken sound that tore through my heart. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his entire body trembled.

I didn’t want to tease him. I wanted him to let go. I wanted to drive him to stop fighting it, because he was. Something was holding him back, when what he wanted was the complete opposite. So I didn’t toy with him, I gave the tip another swirl, then sucked him back, taking him as deep as I could while using my tongue to apply pressure.

He was far too big to take all of him, so I gripped the base and stroked him in time with my mouth, never taking my eyes off his face.

Cash cursed, and his massive thighs spread wider. “You’re so beautiful, Riley. My wife’s so beautiful. I don’t deserve that pretty, rosebud mouth on my cock.” He hissed and fisted my hair tighter. “You make me want so many…bad things. So many.”

His other hand left the table and slid down my back, and because he was so much bigger than me, he barely had to lean forward to grip my butt. He squeezed convulsively, hard enough to leave a bruise. I moaned in pleasure.

He’d talked more the night we’d made each other come in his bed. And he was doing it again now. The only time he said what he was feeling was when he was losing control. His words echoed through my mind, but then vanished as Cash reached around and pushed two fingers inside me.

I moaned around his cock, stroking and sucking harder, faster as I cradled his balls in my other hand and massaged. Cash barked out a rough curse and shoved his fingers deeper inside me, pumping fast, staying deep.

I was going to come again.

I’d squeezed my eyes closed, and when I opened them, our gazes clashed. A rush of liquid heat slid from me, and I sucked him harder, watching as pleasure pain stole his features as he gasped for breath. Something moved through his eyes, dark, beautiful, something that had my inner muscles clenching down on his relentless, thrusting fingers.

Something I wanted more of.

“Gonna come,” he barked out.

I stayed where I was, taking that big cock into my mouth over and over. He gasped, and I groaned around him, my eyes nearly rolling back as I came, gripping and releasing his fingers, rocking against his hand. Cash fisted my hair in a punishing grip, holding me on his cock as he shot into my mouth.

His loss off control just made me come harder. I swallowed him down, giving him what we both wanted, needed. His cock in my mouth, thick fingers buried in my pussy, the look in his eyes as he watched me—awe, affection, pure lust—I’d never felt so precious, so wanted. Not ever.

I licked and sucked him until he began to soften. When I finally released him, I rested my hands on his knees.

I smiled up at him. “That was…amazing.”

He didn’t speak. I didn’t expect him to. Instead he caught me under the arms and lifted me, putting me in his lap and burying his face against my throat, still breathing heavily.

“Thank you,” he said roughly.

Cash wasn’t just thanking me for the blow job. He was happy I was there.

He wasn’t the only one.

I went to sleep that night cuddled up to Cash but woke a couple of hours later when the nightmares crept back in. I was back in my apartment, waking and realizing I wasn’t alone. Thankfully, I hadn’t let loose a scream this time. I’d snuggled closer to Cash and managed to go back to sleep. Something that never usually happened.

The second time I woke was when Cash slid his hand down the front of my pj shorts. It was a much better way to wake up, and I returned the favor, stroking him until he shuddered and came, then fell back to sleep. And the last time I woke was to the repetitive bang of hammering, and I was alone.

Now I was in the kitchen, pouring myself a cup of tea. I glanced up when Cash walked in. He was wearing worn jeans that clung to his long, solid legs and strained over his massive thighs. And a red thermal was molded to his chest.

He pushed his hands into his pockets and looked at me from under his thick black lashes. “Morning.”