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Prying myself away from her wetness, I push up on my knees, watching as her body goes limp in frustration.
“Bastard,” she croaks.
“Language,” I muse, licking her taste off my lips. Running my finger down her spine, I revel in the chills that follow my path and the gasp that startles her once my hand connects with her ass cheeks. It barely leaves a mark, which disappoints me.
“Tell me to stop,” I plead, part of me hoping she will because once I’m done with her, she’ll never be able to leave again. “Now.”
She scoffs before going silent.
Fine. I tried to be accommodating, and in return, she wants to stay quiet for the first time in history—her mistake.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” I growl, slapping my hand against the smooth skin that’s starting to turn red with my marks. If I wasn’t possessive before, I sure am now.
“Likewise,” she breathes, her body coming back to my hand as if it’s searching for me.
“I was supposed to hate you.” My hand tangles in her hair as I thrust my hand against her. “I want to hate you.”
She laughs as my hand ripens her cheeks. “Hate me, then.”
I can’t.
That’s always been my problem.
With one final slap, I press my tongue to the red skin, much like when putting out a match, and soothe the heat there.
Possessiveness takes over me as I pry her from the dirt, finally meeting her eyes.
“I’ll only ask you this once.”
Reese’s eyebrow arches.
“How would you like me to fuck my wife?”
Her breath hitches at my words, but she recovers all the same.
“My husband should worship me as he wants. For my body is his.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
“Take off your shirt.” Her eyes widen, but she does as she’s told for once, unclasping her bra, too.
“Give me your hands.”
They shake as she holds them up while I wrap her shirt around her tiny wrists, bounding them together until she’s immobile.
“Now, lie back and put them above your head.”
She hesitates, and I almost fear I’ve scared her, but like the brave woman she is, she lowers to the ground, offering herself as a sacrificial lamb.
Her naked body is stunning as the dwindling sun hits her tanned skin, illuminating every freckle. I rid myself of my jeans and boxers, unable to wait any longer, and line up with her slick entrance.
She moans, her head tilting to the side as I rub up and down her sweet cunt. “I need you to speed this up,” she teases, “before I finish on my own.”
The hell she’ll ever finish on her own. Her pussy belongs to me and only me. I thrust inside her, unceremoniously burying myself to the hilt.
My thrusts aren’t slow or gentle.
They’re punishing and angry, burying all the worry and rage I’ve felt over the years deep inside her.
