Page 111 of The Wild Card


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We barely kick off our shoes and drop our coats on the front mat before we’re all over each other.

When Nadia leaps on me, I heft her supple ass in my palms and lock her legs behind my back. The skirt of her dress has ridden up her thighs and my fingertips curl into her silky golden brown skin.

I stumble my way through the dark house, delirious from wanting her so badly. I should probably ask for directions to the bedroom. But then she starts rotating her hips and planting kisses along my jaw and my throat, and I forget how to form basic questions. She seems just as delirious as I am. In fact, she’s so lost in kissing me that she doesn’t seem to realize I have no freaking clue where I’m going.

I move down the hallway, tearing open the first door I find. I’m about to hurl us both into a coat closet when Nadia shrieks with laughter. “Next door! Next door!”

“Shit…”

While I bumble around in the dark, my wife is busy clawing my shirt buttons undone. I lumber a few feet further and nudge open a second door, then I’m stumbling across a fluffy carpet and dropping her on a frilly, girly bed. I flick on the bedside lamp.

Immediately bolting to a sitting position, she cranes toward the lamp and opens her mouth to protest, but I crawl over her shaking body, silencing her with a finger pressed to her heart-shaped lips.

With the weight of my torso, I press her back toward the mattress. “Nuh-uh. We’re not doing this in the dark. I love watching you comewaytoo much.”

“But Harry…” I cut off her whine, sliding my fingers up the inside of her thigh and tracing along the lace edge of her panties.

“You’re the prettiest sight in the world. Whether I’m fucking you with my fingers or my tongue or my dick.”

I slip my index beneath the thin fabric and find her wet and sticky and hot. Heat radiates through my body. Fuck—I want to do bad things to her.

“Don’t deny me, Nadia. Let me watch you come.”

Her response is a whimper as her legs fall open to the sides.Should I make her come on my hand, first? Or maybe my tongue? Dilemmas, dilemmas…

I kneel between her perfect thighs and tear off her cute pink panties with one firm tug.

Such a shame. They really are cute. They even have a little bow and everything.

She gasps. “You’re replacing those,” she threatens, not able to hide the wicked twinkle in her eyes.

My tongue. Definitely my tongue.

I nip a path up her neck with my teeth. “The only thing you need covering your pussy tonight is my mouth. Now come here and sit on my face.”

I fall onto my back and she flings one leg across my torso, straddling me. Grabbing her waist, I drag her up my body until her glistening pussy is merely an inch from my face. Her buttercream fragrance shoots into my head, making my mouth water.

She’s got her dress gripped in her hands, bundled up at her waist. Her curls are a wild mess tumbling over her eyes. “Baby, please.” Her hips are rocking involuntarily, begging for my mouth.

She looks so fucking wanton, so savagely hungry for me like this.

“Fucking beautiful, you are.” I drag a finger through her soaking folds before easing my head off the mattress to meet her pussy with my tongue.

“Ahh…” she gasps quietly, her hips rocking more.

My cock is raging when I feel how wet she is. He’s as hard as a hammer, wanting to pound her fucking walls.

But this isn’t about me. Not yet. I’ll get my satisfaction later.

First, I need to take care of my wife.

I grab her waist and lower her completely onto my mouth. With her knees planted on either side of my head and her mound grazing back and forth on my lashing tongue, I’m nothing but her prisoner, giving her pleasure. But I’m the happiest captive ever known to mankind.

I cup her ass in my hands, allowing my thumbs to sweep through the crease, playing with her pucker and loving the way she responds with a deep, frantic moan.

My bad, bad girl.

I love the way she lets me touch her just how I want to. I love how she lets me explore without restrictions. She trusts me. I honor that trust.

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