Page 105 of Desperate Games

“That’s it,” I murmur, my voice reverent even though my cock is hard enough to split granite. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

“Hurry,” she begs, hips swaying in invitation.

I lift her dress and groan at the sight of her—pale, thick thighs sheathed in knee-high boots, black cotton panties already damp with want.

“Jesus Christ.” I hook the fabric aside and slide my fingers between her folds.

She’s dripping.

Hot, slick, perfect.

“Already wet for me. Like my good girl,” I groan, strumming her clit with my thumb as I fumble open my pants one-handed.

“Remy,” she gasps, trembling under my touch.

I don’t make her wait.

I can’t.

I line up and push, driving my cock deep, stretching her walls around me until I’m buried to the hilt.

Her body clenches down like she was made for me, milking me, owning me, searing me with her heat.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect, Wife,” I grit out, pressing kisses down the slope of her neck, her shoulder, anywhere I can reach.

She turns her head, lips finding mine, and I drink her moans as I start to move.

My hips snap into hers, driving a rhythm that’s all our own—hungry, frantic, full of everything we’ve been holding back.

Her hands grip the edge of the counter, knuckles white, body shuddering as my cock pistons into her.

“Remy,” she sobs, and the sound undoes me.

I grind against her clit with my fingers with every thrust, circling my hips, making sure she feels me everywhere.

“Come for me, Andy,” I growl into her ear. “Show me you love me. Show me this is ours.”

She breaks with a scream, walls clenching so tight around me it’s almost unbearable.

And I lose it too—growling, biting down on her shoulder, pumping her full until I’m sure I’ll never be empty again.

I hold her through it, chest plastered to her back, my hand covering her belly where our child grows.

“My Wife,” I pant, kissing her temple. “My love. Mine. Always mine.”

And this time, I know she believes me.

And it is better than anything I have ever felt.

Chapter Thirty-Four-Andrea

My legs feel like jelly. My chest is heaving. My throat is raw from screaming his name, but my body is still trembling with the aftershocks of what he just gave me.

Remy eases out of me slowly, almost reverently, his big hands still wrapped around my hips like he doesn’t quite trust the world to keep me standing.

“You okay, Baby?” he murmurs against my ear, voice rough, but softer now, gentled in a way that squeezes my heart.

I nod, but my knees buckle anyway. He catches me before I can collapse, lifting me clean off the counter like I weigh nothing. I curl into him, boneless, and for once I don’t fight it.