One Bossy Offer (140)

“Miles!” I shudder.

It’s all detailed silk, but it’s had its time to shine as it falls to the floor.

He breaks our next sultry kiss just long enough for his eyes to rake over me.

I must look funny with my body fastened into a skintight lace slip.

“More beautiful than the dress,” he whispers.

I smile. I wasn’t expecting that.

“How does this come off?” he growls impatiently, reaching for the zipper.

“It doesn’t. Not yet.” My eyes light up with anticipation.

I run my hand down his chest, digging my nails into his skin, making him feel my need.

He sighs loudly, every last bit of him bristling.

His trousers are tented, his cock pulsing angrily behind the fabric.

“You must be so uncomfortable,” I whisper, reaching down to squeeze him. “Let me help.”

“Goddamn. Yeah, kitten, set me free.”

And I do, helping him unbutton his pants and shove them to the floor to join my dress.

They fall around his ankles, and he kicks off his shoes.

The instant he’s free, I don’t wait.

I pull the boxer briefs down, cupping the hard, needy length of him with my hand.

“Fuck.” He sighs. “How does the slip come off? Tell me now.”

“Down the back.” I slide my fingers down his thick manhood, then let go and turn around, so we’re back to front.

He’s harder than stone with raw desire, hot and firm against my ass.

I’ve never wanted anything so bad.

It’s like a fever, this lust, this animalistic need to be joined to my husband—holy shit, my husband—for the very first time.

He unhooks the first three brackets in slow seconds that make me so wet I can’t stand it.

The slip comes loose around my breasts while I count the deepest breaths I’ve taken all day.

“Feels good,” I purr. But it’s nothing close to what he’s about to make me feel.

His hands slide between the loose bra cups of the slip and my breasts. He cups them with a rumble in his throat, running his thumbs over my nipples, pressing good and hard.

I close my eyes as a moan drifts up my throat.

My ass pushes against his shaft, desperate to give him the same rush, igniting every nerve.

But he’s so patient.

I hate and love that he’s so flipping calm, so controlled, so Miles.

He caresses my breasts long enough to make my body ache for him before he grabs at the last few hooks.

“Go. Just rip it off,” I beg.

“No, kitten. Torturing you is part of the fun.” His breath is volcanic against my ear.

“No games. Please. I just want you.”

Now, the slip is undone to my belly button.

He runs his hands up and down my bare torso, massaging my breasts every time he passes them, pinching my nipples with a rising fury that matches the fire in his blood.

“Miles!” I fumble behind me until I’ve cupped his length again.

I start stroking him fast and furious, squeezing harder with every pump.

This guttural “fuck” drops from his throat like a hammer, and the slickness running out of his tip tells me he’s losing control.

You’d better believe the unfastening happens faster now.

My husband knows I don’t play fair, and I’ve never asked him to with me.

With a ragged breath, he picks me up and drops me on the bed, then climbs up beside me.

I move my hand up and down his hard cock, languidly pumping, before I take him in my mouth.

His head snaps back as I engulf him, fully in rapture.

“Fuck, kitten. You and your little tongue—you kill me,” he snarls.

I’m smiling as I suck him harder, deeper, faster, swirling my tongue just under his crown, worshipping the familiar spot that always leaves him undone.

“Fuck!” He thrusts harder in my mouth, grinding his hips, pushing until I can’t take more and I’m less than halfway down.

His hands fuse to both sides of my head, thrusting so hard and still not hard enough because he knows what I can take, and just when I think he’s about to come so sweetly for me— “Goddamn. Enough,” he rasps, jerking back reluctantly.

I smile as he catches his breath.

When his eyes lock on mine, they’re fully molten.

Then he places two fingers on my collarbone, slides down between my breasts, past my stomach, between my legs.

“You’re ready as hell for me and I haven’t even touched you yet. I’m not wasting a pussy this tight and wet.” And he emphasizes it by pushing between my legs until I gasp.

“Miles, oh!”

I want to fight, but I want to surrender so much more.

And I do.

I give my body over to his touch, to everything he wants.

It isn’t long before he shoves me down, spreads my legs, and pushes his face to my core.

I thought I already knew what it was like to be devoured by Miles Cromwell.

But I didn’t know how he’d consume me now that I’m his wife.

Every fierce stroke of his tongue, his breath, his teeth come just a little sharper, a little more intense, a little more blinding.

When his tongue lashes my clit, my vision whites out.

I come so hard I’m ruined.