Page 66 of The Next Mrs Russo


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“Am I?” He looks amused by this, a smirk tugging at his cheek.

My panties hit the floor.

“Yes,” I insist. “You are. Always frowning and pacing around focusing on your work and whatever.”

“And that gets you off?” he asks, a bit incredulously. Clearly he hasn’t seen himself.

“Mmm-hmm,” I hum because he’s slipped a finger inside of me and really this is no time for arguing when I’m getting what I want.

“You’re so wet.” He whispers the words against my ear and somehow that makes it all the filthier. “Did sucking my cock get you like this?” He backs me towards the bed, still whispering filth in my ear. “Did swallowing me down make you wet and needy for more of me?”

“Mmm-hmm,” I whimper this time because words are super overrated and hearing Warren Russo dirty-talk might be enough to make me spontaneously orgasm before he even gets his dick inside of me.

Then I’m on my back, spread out on his bed and staring at his ceiling as he climbs over me, his lips on my neck and his hand between my legs. I need this man more than I need my next breath. I wind my hands into his hair and pull his mouth to mine as my hips buck into his fingers, begging for more.

I feel the length of him against my thigh and I think my luck must be on an upswing because thank you, dick recovery god, he’s already hard again.

“Please, Warren, I’m dying for you.”

“I’m right here,” he replies and I can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them against mine. Fucking tease.

“I want you inside of me,” I manage to clarify around breathing, because his lips have moved to my nipple, his teeth dragging against the nub before his tongue circles and my focus is a mess. He’s got the most perfect scruff. The abrasion against my skin is heaven.

“Like this?” he asks, slipping two long fingers inside of me, pumping as he works my clit with his thumb.

“No.” I shake my head against the mattress, my sexual frustration building with his manipulations.

“No? So I should stop?” His fingers leave me and my hips rise, chasing them in dismay. He watches me, slipping those fingers into his mouth.

I groan. Porn is definitely over for me.

“Warren.” I say his name like I’m begging. Because I am. I’m practically growling at how he’s denying me on purpose.

“Tell me what you want, Audrey. Explain it to me. In detail,” he adds with a smirk. It’s a definite smirk.

This dick.

Where would I even begin? A dozen lewd sexual positions race through my mind and I want him in all of them. I want him while I’m on my back. I want to ride him. I want him to flip me over and pin me down as he fucks me from behind. I want it all.

“I want”—I reach down and wrap my hand around him—“your cock”—I pump the hard length of him, happy to play the teasing game—“inside of me.”

Then I drop him from my hand and lick my lips before stretching my hands above my head. I watch his eyes drop to my breasts.

“I want you to fuck me so hard my tits bounce and I can feel you between my legs for the next week,” I tell him. Everything inside of me’s aching and warm and wanting, and if he doesn’t stop this game pretty soon I will shatter into a thousand pieces of frustration. “I want you to do whatever you want to me. Take whatever you want. Give it to me.” I let my thighs fall open and his eyes trail from my breasts downward and then back.

Then he reaches into his nightstand.

Thank. Fuck.

“You’re the filthy tease, Audrey,” he says, voice low and gruff as he rips the condom packet with his teeth. “You drive me crazy just sitting around doing nothing. When you think I’m not paying attention and you’re twirling your hair or attempting to feed a goddamn chipmunk or trying to reason with a cat. You’re fucking nuts.”

“And you’re into it,” I remind him.

“God help me,” he agrees, but he’s smiling.

He leans over me and kisses me, winding his fingers through my hair as he kisses me deeper and slower. Then he trails kisses lower, finding the peaks of my nipples and pulling each one into his mouth and sucking slowly. He presses his hips down so that I can feel how hard he is. I’m so eager that I try to move my hips so that I can slide him inside of me, but all he does is rock above me, angling his cock so that it moves back and forth against my still-sensitive clit.

“Please,” I moan, because I am out of words again.

Then, and only then, does he pull back and press himself at my entrance. He leans back and grabs my thighs, lifting me so that my hips are angled. His cock slides into me, one slow inch at a time. Which I appreciate because as wet and aching for him as I am, he’s a lot. The stretch is fucking delicious and I groan low in my throat. My thighs are bent back towards my torso so my hips are pinned, meaning Warren is completely in control.

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