Overnight Wife(23)

She’s mine, and I intend to keep her. To make sure the whole world knows that she belongs to me, no matter what, from now on.

I angle my hips to make sure my thick cock drags against her inner front wall with every thrust, right along the sweet spot that makes her toes curl and her breath hitch. Watching her come undone beneath me is worth every second of waiting, every moment of teasing and torturing her.

Her lips part, her eyes lock onto mine, and I smile at her, knowing that she’s starting to realize it too. “You’re mine,” I whisper, against her throat, before I kiss and suck gently along the edge of her jawline, making her fists clench, her nails digging harder into my shoulders.

“I’m yours,” she breathes, and I can feel her pussy clenching harder around me. This close, she can’t hide the way those words turn her on too—it’s written all over her face, in her eyes, in her every movement, as she pulls me closer, thrusts her hips up into mine harder.

“Come for me, wife,” I tell her, and those big blue eyes of hers widen. I doubt any man has ever given her such a direct command before. But I keep going, keep thrusting into her, and she keeps arching up to meet me, her breath coming harder and faster. “Come, now,” I say again, putting force behind it, letting her know I mean business.

And she does. She comes undone beneath me, crying out as the full force of the orgasm hits her, hard enough to make her toes curl and her whole body shake. Her pussy clenches and releases around my hard cock, convulsing in a way that drives me closer to my own edge.

I don’t wait for her orgasm to pass. I just keep thrusting into her, again and again, until I can’t hold back anymore. With one last hard thrust and a sound that’s almost a growl, I finish deep inside her, my hands digging into her soft curves as I pin her against me, pleasure flooding my body, lighting every inch of me on fire.

But far from feeling satisfied, when we draw apart again, she only leaves me wanting more. I have a feeling that a woman like her always will.



*

I drive Mara back to her place, casting sideways glances at her the whole time. “You’re quiet,” I point out, when we’re near the address she gave me to plug into my navigation system.

“Just tired,” she says, avoiding my eyes. But I notice out of the corner of my eye the way she keeps stealing glances at me, probably when she thinks I’m too busy paying attention to the road to notice her.

She underestimates my ability to multitask. Or maybe she just underestimates how much I notice about her—how everything she does catches my eye, draws my attention. I couldn’t have chosen a better wife for myself if I’d been trying to do it on purpose.

That thought sets off a memory. An unpleasant clench in my stomach. But I push it aside, drive it from my head. There will be time to dwell on all of that when she’s not here. When I don’t have more important things—a more important person—to focus on instead.

I reach across the gear shift to rest my hand on her knee. She leans toward my touch, an unconscious reaction, before she seems to catch herself, and freezes in place. “Relax,” I tell her with a grin. “You can let yourself enjoy this, you know.”

She starts to laugh before she catches herself and clamps her lips together. She inhales, like she’s going to say something, but after a pause, she just shakes her head. “I had fun tonight,” she says. “A lot of fun.”

“I know.” My smile widens.

She rolls her eyes, but she smiles, too. “I just… I don’t know if I want this yet, John. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“I am,” I tell her. “And I’m never wrong.”

She sighs, but she reaches down to twine her fingers through mine at the same time. “For some insane reason, I’m starting to hope you might be right,” she admits, her voice soft and low.

We pull up outside her house, and I lean over to cup her chin, tilting her face toward mine and pulling her into a long, slow, searing kiss. She melts against me, her eyes fluttering shut. But I don’t close mine. I keep them focused on her. On my goal.

I know what I want, after all. And I’m good at getting it.

We draw apart, just as my phone starts to buzz. She glances at it, but it’s facedown, so she can’t see whose name is on the screen. “Do you want to get that?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Later.” Then I draw her back to me, kiss her again, her lips parting beneath mine, melting. I lose track of time, of anything but the taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her in my arms.

My hands slide down over her curves, toward her belly, past it. I pause at the hem of her jeans, and I feel her arch up against me, feel her starting to breathe harder in anticipation. But before things get too hot and heavy again, I draw back and flash her a sly grin.

“Think of me tonight when you’re touching yourself,” I tell her. “Tomorrow, I’ll want details.”

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t protest. Then I kiss her once more and hit the button to open her door. “Goodnight, John,” she says, her voice hitching on that last word.

“Sleep well, wife.” I have time to catch the tail end of her smile, before she turns toward her house. I watch to make sure she gets inside safely. Before she closes the door behind herself, I notice her check back over her shoulder, looking at me one last time.