The need to come was like a vise around my balls, the pressure exquisite. She was tight, so amazingly snug, and so wet. I couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get deep enough, even when I felt the end of her clasping at the head of my cock.
She thrashed beneath my pounding drives, her heels sliding across the sheets, her tits rocking with the force of my thrusts. She was so small, so soft, and I was f**king her lush body with everything I had in me.
Take me. Take all of me. The good and the bad. Everything. Take it all.
The headboard banged into the shared wall between our two apartments in a hard-driving rhythm that screamed crazed sex to anyone listening. As did the growls spilling from my throat, the animalistic sounds of my pleasure I didn’t try to hold back. I loved f**king my wife. Craved it. Needed it. And I didn’t care who knew what she did to me.
Eva arched up, sinking her teeth into my biceps, her bite sliding over my sweat-slick skin. The mark of possession drove me wild, had me thrusting so hard I shoved her up the bed.
She cried out. I hissed as she tightened around me like a greedy fist.
“Come,” I bit out, my jaw clenched against the urge to do the same, to let go and pump every drop I had into her.
Rolling my hips, I ground against her clit, pleasure sizzling up my spine when she moaned my name and cl**axed around me in pulsing ripples.
I kissed her roughly, drinking in her taste, spilling into her with a shuddering groan.
—
EVA stumbled a little as I helped her out of the back of the Bentley in front of the Crossfire.
A hot flush spread across her face and she shot me a look. “You suck.”
My brows rose questioningly.
“I’m shaky and you’re not, sex machine.”
I smiled innocently. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” Her wry smile faded as she glanced down the street. “Paparazzi,” she said grimly.
I followed her gaze and spotted the photographer aiming a camera out of the open passenger window of his car. Gripping her by the elbow, I led her into the building.
“If I have to start actually styling my hair every day,” she muttered, “you’re dealing with morning wood on your own.”
“Angel,” I tugged her into my side and whispered, “I’d hire a full-time hairdresser for you before I gave up your cunt every morning.”
She elbowed me in the ribs. “God, you’re crude, you know that? Some women take offense to that word.”
She went ahead of me through the security turnstiles and joined the mass of bodies waiting for the next elevator car.
I stood close behind her. “You’re not one of them. However, I might be willing to revise. I recall orifice being a favorite of yours.”
“Oh God. Shut up,” she said, laughing.
We separated when she exited on the twentieth floor and I went up to Cross Industries without her. I wouldn’t be doing so for long. Someday, Eva would be working with me, helping to build our future as a team.
I was debating the myriad avenues to achieving that goal when I rounded the corner on approach to my office. My stride slowed when I saw the willowy brunette waiting by Scott’s desk.
I steeled myself to deal with my mother again.
Then her head turned and I saw it was Corinne.
“Gideon.” She rose gracefully to her feet, her eyes brightening with a look I’d come to recognize, having seen it on Eva’s face.
It gave me no pleasure to see that warmth in Corinne’s eyes. Unease slid down my spine, stiffening my back. The last time I had seen her had been shortly after she’d tried to kill herself.
“Good morning, Corinne. How are you feeling?”