The Devil Gets His Due (The Devils #4)(90)
“Who is it that has no self-control?” I ask as he lifts me up and turns us toward the bed.
The sound he makes is half laughter/half grunt. “It might not be me but it’s not you either.” He dumps me on the bed. “I guarantee you bought that lace thing in multiple colors and it cost a fortune.”
I laugh. Well, yeah, obviously. I haven’t changed that much.
I get on my hands and knees and he growls at the sight. His hands grip my hips, squeezing for a moment as he considers how he’s going to do this, and then he flips me on my back like a rag doll and a large palm circles the base of my throat.
“I thought you’d want me on my hands and knees, like last time,” I say, sucking in a breath, arching toward him.
“I’m saving it,” he says against my ear. His hand skims down my chest and stomach in a smooth stroke, barely pausing before pushing two fingers inside me, inhaling when he feels how ready I am. “Because when we do that, I want it to last for a good long time.”
“Oh God,” I beg. “Please fuck me.”
He shoves inside me hard, without warning, just the way I knew he would, and holds my gaze under heavy-lidded eyes, watching me shiver with pleasure through the first thrust.
Instead of continuing, though, he pulls one strap of the slip down to expose a breast. His palm is gentle as he cups it, and then he pinches my nipple simply to hear me gasp.
“More,” I plead.
His jaw is tight as he pulls my legs over his shoulders and grips my hips the way I like.
He pulls back slowly, but slams forward with enough force to jolt me up the bed, hitting every nerve on the way. He does it again and again, his eyes locked on mine through the punishing pace.
This is Graham, unrestrained, holding nothing back, not being careful, and taking everything he wants because he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it’s his to take.
“God, I love you so much,” he hisses as he gets close.
Someone telling me they loved me would once have sent me running. Tonight, it simply pushes me right over the edge and I’m whispering all my “I love yous” back when he follows with a low groan.
He collapses beside me and pulls me close. Within a minute, his voice is slurred with fatigue because he was up thirty-six hours straight getting ready for today’s presentation. By the time I press my lips to those butterflies on his chest, the way I do every night, he is sound asleep.
So very boring. And I wouldn’t trade him for the world.
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49
OceanofPDF.com
GRAHAM
Ben and Gemma arrive at our house the next afternoon, politely saying nothing about what a disaster it is at present—that’s what happens when you’ve only lived somewhere for two weeks and you have a four-month-old, but it certainly doesn’t help to have your wife simultaneously discover that some designer once made tiny baby shoes and they can still be bought new in the box on eBay if she enters auctions rather than helping you unpack.
Gemma sighs as her phone buzzes. “Your mother is already asking if we’re sure we don’t want her to come over,” she tells Ben, showing him the message. “If I can take care of a puppy, I can take care of a baby.”
Keeley’s smile fades and Ben laughs. “Gemma, save those jokes for after they leave or he’s going to have to drug Keeley to get her out of here.”
He isn’t wrong—Keeley’s love for our daughter is a staggering thing, and I suspected it would be. It’s a big part of the reason she’s only going back to work half-time when she starts at the hospital in a week. The other part is that she just realized there are eight seasons of Love Island UK and she and Daisy have only watched two of them.
She told me and Daisy last week that Jonny from season two is a douche and if Daisy brings home a guy like that, she’ll make sure he’s dead by morning. Our daughter gave me a big toothless grin when she said it—Daisy looks like me, but she’s an O’Keefe through and through. I’m in so much trouble.
“I typed up some instructions,” Keeley says, handing Gemma the packet.
“You’re only going to be gone for one night, right?” Gemma asks. “Because this has me worried you’re actually taking off for Europe.”
“Just one night.” Keeley pulls Daisy close. “We’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
“We’ll be back late tomorrow afternoon,” I correct, pressing my lips to the top of Daisy’s head. “And we’re not going to get any surfing in at all if we don’t get out of here.”
Keeley concedes, placing Daisy into Gemma’s outstretched arms. “Just make sure you put her on her back when she’s asleep, okay? And you can’t put breast milk in the microwave. Use the bottle warmer. Are you sure you remember how to—”
“I’ve used your bottle warmer at least ten times,” says Gemma. “Stop worrying. We’ll put her on a leash and take her for loads of walks and she’ll be fine.”
“Just so we’re clear, you know she can barely support her own—”
“Keeley,” I groan, “she knows. And I’d really, really like to get on the road.”