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“In case you didn’t realize it,” he whispers huskily against her ear. “I miss my wife dearly. I miss her scent, her body, her fucking moans, and god help me, I miss her perfect pussy.” Vivienne clenches her thighs to nurse the burn.

“So forget touching, ladybird.” His teeth sinks into the soft flesh below her ear, his tongue swiping out to numb the sharp ache. “I’ll be inside you tonight.”

A soft gasp is all she utters as his lips claim hers in a possessive, lingering kiss.

And as much as she wants to fight him off, to not be like this with him—weak—she finds herself kissing back, catching up with his pace, opening her mouth when he demands access, her fingers intermingling in his silky hair as the kiss turns hungry, deep, demanding.

Briefly, he breaks away from the kiss to pull the soft material off her body, tossing it aside before his lips find her again. His hands are all over her body, kneading her breasts, gripping her hips as he grinds his clothed cock against her opening.

His low groan vibrates against her lips as he presses his body to her searing one, his heat overwhelming, his weight pinning her down in the most overwhelming way.

The rough friction of his clothed length brushing against her bare, aching core sends a jolt of pleasure up her spine.

“Do you feel that?” His voice is husky, his lips brushing hers. “That’s what this pussy fucking does to me. Five nights without it, I felt like dying.”

His hands move with purpose, fingers mapping her skin, gliding down her sides gripping her thigh as he spreads them wide. A shudder wracks her spine as he shifts, his cock pressing harder against her entrance, teasing but refusing to give her what she now craves.

“Zev…” She sounds breathless, needy, desperate, but her protest is swallowed by another searing kiss, deep, possessive, and consuming, breaking every ounce of her resolve.

His tongue swipes against hers, his teeth nipping at her lower lip, but he soothes the burn with a slow, deliberate lick.

He is intoxicating, a mixture of whiskey and sin, then a hint of coffee. And when he pulls back, Vivienne is left panting, lips tingling as her body thrums with anticipation.

His eyes roam her face, and something stormy and fiery settles in them, and another thing she can’t name. Then he lifts his body off her, ripping his shirt off his body, and then his pants and boxers.

The dim light casts a shadow over his pale and inked skin, highlighting the ridges of his muscles.

His skin is warm when she touches him, burning when his body presses against her naked one, his chest brushing her breasts and swollen nipples.

“I wish there’s a mirror where you can see yourself right now.” His fingers trail down the valley of her breast, her flat stomach, and stop where she desperately wants him the most. “So flushed, desperate, fucking mine.”

The last word is a growl as his hand slides lower, fingers dipping between her folds, spreading her pussy lips and circling her throbbing clit.

Vivienne arches off the bed, a gasp slicing past her lips as pleasure crackles through her nerves like a fire licks at dry wood.

“You know you’re a fucking hypocrite right?

” He looks at her through the curve of his frosty lashes, his fingers stroking her slowly, lazily, making her whimper and nearly beg.

“Always making a villain out of me. Telling me not to touch you. Yelling that you don’t want this.

Making it sound like I’m taking advantage of you, and yet here you are, as always, dripping, begging me to fuck you, to bury my cock inside your needy pussy and fuck your little brains out.

You’re so fucking fake, ladybird.” He rolls her clit between his fingers, earning a desperate cry from her.

“But don’t worry, we have enough time. Soon, I’ll straighten you out. ”

His words are true. There’s not a lie there.

Even she hates herself for how quickly her body answers his touch when all she wants to do is stay away from him.

But she can’t seem to control her stupid body the moment he is in the picture.

Even now, she feels ashamed. She wants to push him off, but when he slides two fingers inside her, curling them just right, she falls apart.

Her hips roll against his thrusts, her thighs quaking, a series of moans echoing off her lips while he groans in response to her body’s reaction to his touch.

“Yes, that’s it.” His coaxes, his thumb circling her clit, his fingers working her open. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel. Let me own all your pleasures.”

Her fingers tighten around his shoulder, her free hand tangling in the sheet as pleasure coils tight in her stomach. She’s at the edge now, burning, teetering. She is falling apart around him.

And then he pulls away.

“No, please,” she whimpers, shaking her head, eyes glassy and filled with need. He smirks.

“Don’t worry, ladybird,” he murmurs, positioning his cock between her thighs. “Remember I said we’ll be doing this all night? I’m just getting started here.”

He fists himself in his large palm, the thick and throbbing head of his cock dragging through her slick folds, coating himself in her arousal.

“Ready?”

She doesn’t get a chance to work up a reply as he thrusts in, slow, deep, stretching her out inch by inch because no matter how many times he fucks her pussy, she can never truly take him at a go. He is so big and she is so fucking tight.

She feels every ridge and every pulse, a loud moan tearing from her lips as she claws at his back, her nails dragging against the flesh, her heels digging into his toned ass.

Zev let out a shuddered breath, his fingers flexing around her throat, forehead pressed against hers. “Fuck, still perfect. Just the way I left you.”

He pulls out, only for a moment before he slams back into her, harder than the last thrust, sending a wave of pleasure crashing through her.

His pace is slow but deliberate, each thrust designed to make her feel every inch of him, to remember how much she loves to have him inside her no matter how much she tries to disagree, drawing out every little gasp and moan she tries to swallow.

“Now, tell me,” he murmurs against her lips, his dark voice a mixture of command and plea. “Tell me you miss this. Tell me you miss my cock tearing through your tight pussy like this. Tell me you love me throbbing inside you, owning your fucking pussy.”

Vivienne clenches around his silky length, her body answering before her lips can.

“Fucking say it!” he growls, his thrust punctuating his words, deep and devastating.

“I—” she swallows hard, her pride warring with a need she can’t curb, not when she is so full of him, not when she can feel him throbbing inside her, just the way she likes it.

But when he angles his hip just right, hitting that spot that always makes her toe curl, she shatters around him. “Fuck, I missed it.”

His lips curl, his groan satisfactory. “Good.”

Then he picks up pace, fucking her like an animal starved—raw, and hard—leaving her teetering on the edge. He fucks her as though he is determined to make up for all the days they spent apart. And she lets him, let him use her the way he pleases

She lets him ruin her for every other man.

And as the pleasure builds, sharp and unbearable, she realizes it. She might hate him, despise him for taking her away, locking her up here, and for all the terrible things he has done, but she is addicted to him. Addicted to his fucked up self, his depraved mind, and his cock.