Page 41 of Choosing Hope

The concept sends another shot of lust through me like a bullet. I grip the ballet barre, following his instructions to the letter, while he adjusts me to the angle he prefers.

He slaps my backside hard. The contact makes my skin tingle and my clit fizz, but I don’t get time to enjoy the sensation fully before he’s forcing himself deep inside me and stealing my breath.

“I’ve never met a woman who gets me hard as fast as you,” he grunts.

“Makes me wonder why you insist on fucking every woman you meet then, darling.” I groan out. “Ah.”

He slams into me harder, grabbing my hair and tilting my face up so that he can lean over me, his lips against my ear.

“You love hearing about them,” he hisses, altering his angle inside me, aware from years of experience that the adjustment will make me moan for him.

The way he’s learned to play my body like a finely tuned instrument consistently surprises me. After only a few thrusts, I’m already close to my release.

“You’ve got thirty seconds to cum on my cock, Sophie,” he orders. He’s always so bossy.

He drives into me harder, making my sarcastic response fizzle out on my tongue. He grabs both my hips, tilting my pelvis further and making me scream.

As my walls contract around him, he pants and starts pounding into me at such a velocity that I have no option but to hold on to the barre before me and brace my arms.

Within two minutes, he’s pulled me back onto him so hard that I’m certain he’ll leave finger-size bruises on my skin. I smile, delighted to be marked by him. His release is warm, soothing as it erupts inside me.

As he withdraws, he drops a kiss on the lily tattoo on my bottom cheek.

“You should come to the gym with me daily. That was the ideal end to my workout,” he rasps.

My legs are still a little wobbly when he drags me back up to the kitchen, bossily telling me to be quick, once he’s logged into his laptop, he soothes his words with a kiss on the top of my head and runs upstairs for his shower.

I open the web browser, feeling guilty for my manipulation—almost.

Rapidly, I locate the website I used for ordering Lily’s dolls before clicking into Spencer’s network.

After spending hours trawling through the directory over the last few days, finding the files I needed wasn’t a challenge.

There’s a folder marked ‘Locked’. Previously, it wouldn’t let me in. I click it and close my eyes, muttering a short, silent prayer.

After a second, I crack my eyes open, delighted to see the window is open on the screen. My prayer answered.

Before me, are dozens of folders. Too many to read in my allotted ten minutes, so I copy as many as I can and forward them to my email address, before deleting the evidence in Spencer’s sent email box.

The stairs creak. Disappointed that I don’t have time to research further, I rapidly close the file down and open the shopping site window, just in time for my freshly showered husband to enter the room.

I peer up, smiling when I see he’s wearing a black shirt and trousers. He knows I love this outfit. It’s impossible not to admire him in it. He’s gorgeous, with his dirty blonde hair, and a jawline you could cut yourself on, set off by sharp hazel eyes that barely miss a trick and all enhanced by the pungent scent of his mouthwatering cologne after his shower.

My God, he’s delicious.

His new freshness highlights my state; in cum-soaked panties and reeking of sex.

Typically, he doesn’t miss my lustful eye, and being the cocky bastard he is, he raises his eyebrows.

“Give it up, Soph. I’ll have to cancel my trip in a minute and spend the next two days fucking you instead.”

I grin. “Sounds like a plan.” I shoot back, making my own eyebrows dance.

“Come with me,” he begs.

His offer shocks me. This used to be a common occurrence, but recently these demands have stopped.

“I can’t.” I groan. “What about Lily?”