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“What did I say?” he asks roughly. “Spread your legs if you want to get fucked, Sin.”
Something about the moniker reaches in and strokes inside like a probing finger. Whether it’s the familiarity of abbreviating my name or the wickedness of it—Sin—I don’t know, but I spread my legs like a good girl. I train my gaze on the ceiling, wondering when he’ll make his move, but I’m still unprepared for his silky hair to brush inside my thigh, cool against the hot skin as he his teeth close around the tiny snap between my legs holding the body suit secure.
“Oh.” It’s all I can manage on a startled breath. “You can’t . . .”
But he does. He pulls the front flap out of the way and replaces it with his mouth, open and ardent and hot and wet on my pussy. He groans, an echo of his pleasure, of how consumed he is, and the sound shudders through my muscles, leaving me trembling as he continues to feast, every once in a while, pushing a finger and then two inside, while still sucking on the bundle of nerves at the top. The bottom flaps of the body suit hang loosely, uselessly around my body, and he cups my bare ass with his big hands. He can’t quite contain the round globes of my butt, the flesh overflowing his fingers.
“Now this is an ass,” he says huskily. In time with the persistent suction of his mouth, he squeezes my butt until it’s like a pulse thrumming through my whole body. Before I question it, I add my own cadence with the rhythmic squeezing of my breast, brushing a thumb over my nipple. Tiny cries sneak past my lips and I don’t even try to stop them. It’s so good I’ll explode. All self-consciousness is long gone. I’m now thrusting my hips against his lips, pressing my wet flesh to his mouth and he keeps eating, slurping, until the sinews, the muscles, the bones in my body liquify and I melt, hands squeezing his shoulders to stay standing. I come so hard, my vision goes dark and then splinters with fireworks.
Sinking my fingers into the thick, dark waves of his hair, I pump my hips, giving him everything–my inhibitions, full access to the secrets of my body, carte blanche. And he takes advantage, gripping my thighs so hard as he drinks from my body’s liquid offering that I know I’ll bruise. I can’t wait to see it tomorrow in the starkness of morning. The only reminder I’ll have of his full possession.
His mouth slows and his grip eases as I come down from the stratosphere that orgasm sent me to. I’m all lassitude and listlessness, but when I pry my eyes open to peer down at him, lust blazes back from his stare.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard your husband will never satisfy you again,” he says it like a warning. Like it’s my last chance to escape, but I have no desire to run.
“Do it.” My voice holds the paradox of a command and a plea. “He won’t be my husband much longer anyway.”
One dark brow elevates, and a smile graces his lips, shiny with the essence of my body. Holding my stare, somehow commanding me even though he’s the one on his knees, he deliberately drags his tongue over his lips, making sure I know he’s savoring the taste of me there.
“That’s some good pussy,” he laughs. “I could be down here all night.”
“I thought you were gonna fuck me so hard my—”
“Oh, right.” He stands abruptly, bringing our bodies so close the buttons of his shirt scrape the sensitive skin of breasts, brush nipples already swollen from his devouring mouth. He towers over me by almost a foot, and I look up at him in something close to awe. In five years of marriage and a year of dating before that, Trey never made me feel like this. Never made me come so hard or feel this desired. The night that was supposed to be about him has become about me, and I selfishly hope Trey fucks Raina and Ralph all night so I can have as much time with Harper as possible.
“How do you want it?” he asks, his voice scraping into the quiet of the room.
“On the wall.” Before I had time to wonder what he wants, to defer my pleasure the way I so often have with Trey, I say what I want. Exactly what I want. I don’t wonder if Trey was right and that I might be too heavy. Harper’s a big man with a fully functional voice. If he wants something else, he can tell me.
He takes a few steps forward, which forces me a few steps back. We keep moving with purpose, our bodies barley separate and so attuned to each other. He grips my hips, guiding me where he wants me to go, until my back hits the wall. Having kept my eyes fixed on his, I had no idea it was that close, and the contact knocks the breath from my body. He dips until his lips rest at my ear, hands on either side of my head, caging me against the wall.
