The Villain (Boston Belles, #2)(70)
“Tap twice.” My teeth sank into her neck, reminding her she had a way out. The way she responded to my thrusts with her back arching told me she wasn’t the innocent little thing I’d made her out to be in my head.
I wanted her to tell me it was too much. Too soon. Too perverted. To prove to me we didn’t fit in all the ways I suspected we did. If she were cold and unresponsive, walking away from her once she was pregnant would be easy.
Fine. Not easy. Doable.
She shook her head, meeting me halfway, grabbing my hand from behind and putting it on her ass again.
I spanked her again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
She turned her head to stare at me, eyes half-lidded, drunk on what we were doing. To make matters worse, each time I drove inside her, I left a small part of myself I wasn’t prepared to let go of.
A shard of self-control.
I grabbed her jaw and redirected her face to the neighbor’s backyard.
“Play with your tits for him,” I ordered. “Make it worth his while.”
I was trying to push her as far as she could go, in hopes she’d tap out, turn around, agree to the IVF, and leave me the fuck alone.
She did as she was told, playing with herself for him, pinching, tugging, caressing the shape of her heavy breasts. The middle-aged man looked up from his rosebushes and halted, his face tilted up to my window.
Persephone Penrose was good.
Proper.
Sweet.
…and fucking depraved, just like me.
That made her a very powerful drug.
“That’s it,” I growled into her ear, pumping harder as gooseflesh prickled on every inch of her skin. “Open your thighs and smear your juices on my window to show your new neighbor what your husband does to you, my sweet, beautiful slut.”
Surely, she was going to throw in the towel.
She couldn’t…
Wouldn’t…
She did.
Obeying, she parted her thighs and played as I slammed into her from behind.
The man was still glaring, his face carefully expressionless as my wife rubbed her pussy against the window while I was fucking her from behind, the friction on her clit wreaking havoc through her body. Her inner muscles clenched around me, so I knew she was close. I bent her over, L-shaped, in a position that allowed for deeper penetration. Then I grabbed both her ass cheeks and pounded her mercilessly. Her palms raked the window, leaving sweaty handprints.
We were both soaking wet. I glanced down at her jiggly, bruised ass, hating how much I loved the view.
The power she had over me disgusted me. She would never know how much I craved her. How much I preferred her above all others.
How it felt like her glorious yellow hair wound and looped around my wrists and feet, like a creature out of a Greek mythology, chaining us together.
She spat her underwear out. “Holy shit, I’m coming.”
Her legs shook, and she fell on her hands and knees to the carpeted floor, spent and thoroughly screwed.
I wrapped an arm around her lower stomach, massaging her clit to milk another climax out of her. Still driving into her, I chased my own release, doggy-style.
A minute later, my balls tightened, and I felt the euphoric release of a carnal fuck emptying inside my wife just as she found her second climax.
The moment I was done, I pulled out, wiping my still-hard dick on her ass cheek. I stood, a little woozy from the orgasm, quickly dressing and regaining my control.
“God. I can’t believe he saw us.” Persephone collapsed, burying her face in the carpet, her red and pink ass staring back at me. “I’m never leaving this house.”
“Yes, you are, and soon,” I quipped.
I wasn’t done parading her like a winning horse.
“I’m mortified.”
“Don’t be.”
“Why?” She moaned into my carpet. I supposed it was a bad time to comment it cost more than her sister’s entire studio apartment and ask her not to stain it.
“The window is tinted from the outside,” I said dryly, buckling myself up, hoping to hell she was going to fall pregnant tonight. Not only would it help me get rid of my nagging fixation with her, but it would kill any potential ex-husband drama. Something I sincerely didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t envy the bastard if he came back for what was now mine. I was never in a sharing mood.
She whipped her head, her eyes flaring.
“Are you kidding me?”
“I don’t have a sense of humor, remember?” I buttoned my shirt, which was halfway undone, though I didn’t recall taking it off.
“What was he looking at, then?” She sat up, turning around to face me, still buck naked.
“The flowerbeds on my balcony. My landscaper grows superior roses. Drives him mad.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“Watching you squirm turned me on.” I leaned down to pat her messy blond hair like she was a pet before walking over to my recliner and opening my cigar box next to it.
“Excuse me?”
“Gladly. You are excused. Have been for the six minutes since we finished.” I waved her off.
Her tits were fantastic, especially when she stood suddenly, in a jerky movement. Full and pear-shaped, with pink nipples like two small diamond studs. My wife grabbed her dress from the floor, sliding back into it with a shake of her head.