Last Name - Dr. Rebecca Sharp Page 0,45

the blunt reddened tip bobbed out at me with a shake that seemed to scold me for ever thinking I could escape him… or this.

Knowing I was watching… seeing what it did to me… James reached down and wrapped his fingers around his thick girth, slowly stroking himself in front of me.

“I’m on the pill,” I breathed out, hunger tainting every syllable. I hadn’t told him in Vegas. And I only knew that because of the condom wrapper I’d seen in the garbage.

I hadn’t needed to tell him in Vegas because Vegas was only supposed to be just a fling.

But now… now, we were on a path that seemed destined for something much longer… something like forever. And for that, I would throw the rulebook out the window.

He smirked. “Eager for my cock?”

My eyes snapped to his and in a play of power, I began to slide my legs closed. Suddenly, all teasing dropped from his face, his mouth drawing into a fine line as he yanked my knees back apart, ready to stake his claim.

He climbed over me, leveling his face with mine and holding my gaze as he positioned his hips above me, letting the tip of his cock gently glide against my entrance, coating himself with the slick warmth of my desire.

“James.” Whatever sound I made, whether it was a plea or a whimper, was strangled to silence as he pushed inside me with a steady stroke.

My head bowed back with pleasure as he spread my trembling inner muscles wide. Stretching me. Filling me. Making me heavy with his weight buried inside me.

I felt his strangled groan against my chest, his head resting in the crook of my neck and shoulder as his body trembled above me, both weakened and strengthened by the combination of excruciating pleasure held with necessary restraint.

And in typical James fashion, he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop, and he didn’t slow until the head of his cock bumped simultaneously up against my womb and that button of pleasure buried in the deepest recesses of the front wall of my pussy; the one that instantly made my body shudder and shake with the painfully perfect sparks of need.

“You’re perfect,” he told me.

I swallowed through the tightness in my throat. “I’m not.”

“You’re perfect because you’re mine.”

The sound that escaped my lips was a sigh mated with a moan as he rotated his hips back, pulling almost completely out of me.

“Oh, I am?” I breathed.

He pulled his head back, his gaze driving right through mine into the very depths of my soul.

“I knew you were mine from the second I saved you that night,” he rasped. “And you agreed to it…”

I opened my mouth to say something about the illegitimacy of our marriage contract, but then he added, “You agreed to it the second you held my cock inside you.”

I gulped and blinked in awe at him.

His assertion relied on that night—but it had nothing to do with our marriage.

His hand that had been on my hip, guiding my movements, slid up along my side, lovingly over my breast, and came to cup the side of my cheek.

“From the moment we met, you continued to show me your hand, minute after minute, card after card,” he growled. “And, gorgeous, I went all in. And now”—his eyes flashed—“now, I’m about to claim my winnings.”

Out of habit, I wanted to protest that I wasn’t something to be won.

Except I was.

In that moment, when he began to move inside me, I absolutely, definitely, without-a-doubt was.

And I wanted him to claim me.

I whimpered as the friction of his hot skin against my sensitive channel stoked an even deeper fire inside of me to burn hotter.

The measured thrust of his hips grew faster, spearing me with the hard rod of his cock over and over again. My body, desperate for more, coated him with desire and let him slip deeper toward my womb with each stroke.

My hands, first curled in the fabric of the duvet, traveled up over the hard bulges of muscle in his arms to grip onto his wide shoulders, anchoring myself to him as our movements grew more frantic.

With a hoarse growl, he reached down for my knee and pushed it up to my chest as he pulled out. I heard his mutter curse just as he sank forward again. With my knee somewhat pinned between us, he buried himself so completely it felt like he’d carved out a new space only for him—that only he could ever