Page 30 of Almost Rotten

Deep onyx orbs bore into me as he dives back in and suckles my breast, fueling another wave of release, pushing me higher.

I stare, mouth agape, my orgasm growing rather than cresting and ebbing.

Growing and growing.

Grinding and giving.

He pops off my tit and pulls on my piercings. “That’s my fucking girl.”

Tears spring to my eyes as liquid heat shoots up and down my spine.

I’m gushing, soaking through my panties and pants until a dark stain blooms on my jeans.

“That’s my fuckingwife.”

As the last word leaves him with a groan, he throws his head back, exposing his Adam’s apple and the throbbing pulse of his neck.

I melt against him as my orgasm keeps coming, every inch of me yearning to be closer, to feel him everywhere. I’m ruined, all my morals and sense of self shattered as I give in and let satisfaction consume me. I’m overwhelmed, but in the best way.

I can’t go any higher; I can’t fall any lower. I only exist in the shock waves and afterglow of that release.

I feel alive, having finally broken through the barrier that kept us apart for so long.

With my bare chest pressed against his front, there’s no mistaking the fast beat of his heart against my sternum.

The sound only intensifies as I rest my cheek on his chest.

Craning back, I plant a kiss at the hollow of his throat.

In answer, he smooths his hands down my back tenderly. Rubbing along my spine. Massaging over my hips.

Holy shit. That happened.

I want to cry with relief and scream in despair.

His touch grows more deliberate as my heart rate settles and I relax against him.

I’m so deeply satisfied, the edges of sleep threaten to pull me under.

But then his hands veer off course and his fingers brush along the waistband of my jeans, and awareness dances up my spine.

My heart catches in my throat when Ty grips the front of my jeans.

He undoes the button, and as he pulls on the zipper, a switch flips and my body goes rigid. As if a bucket of ice water has been dumped over my head, waking me up to reality. The events of the last few moments replay in my mind, flashing warnings about what will happen next if I don’t stop this.

I scramble back, my hands splayed over his chest.

“No,” I tell him firmly, adrenaline coursing through me.

Eyes narrowed, he searches my face.

I shake my head, my movements jerky but firm.

He cocks one brow, though he doesn’t move.

I grip his wrists and pull his hands away from my body.

“I said no,” I repeat, deadly calm.