Page 80 of Desperate Games

That’s it.

That’s my breaking point.

The beast in me snarls, surges forward, takes over.

I slam the door closed behind me and I stalk across the room.

Her eyes fly open.

But instead of embarrassed?

She looks excited. Turned on. Pupils blown wide, chest heaving.

“Jesus Christ, Baby. You need to come? Is that it?” My voice is a growl, low and jagged with need.

“Yes, Remy. I-I feel so needy,” she whimpers.

“You just had to ask, Baby.”

I slap the toy out of her hand.

She gasps, but not in protest.

Because I’m there.

On my knees. Falling face first into her dripping cunt. Devouring her like a starving man who finally found his first meal in weeks.

Tongue buried in her sweetness. Hands gripping her thighs like iron as I gorge myself on the taste of my wife, my obsession, my everything.

She moans, trembling, the sound shooting straight to my cock, and I know—I’m never letting her use any toy alone ever again. Not when she has me.

Not when she was made for me to worship like this.

My dick thumps against my pants, and I’m already unzipping the fucking things, because any second now I’m going to explode, and I refuse to come in my fucking boxers like a goddamn kid.

“Remy,” she whimpers my name, trying to wiggle out of my grasp, but I don’t let her.

“Don’t run, Baby. You give me this. You take this.”

Then I punish her.

I suckle her hard little clit, tugging and pulling the thing until she’s writhing beneath me, mindless, searching for her release.

I moan, and the vibrations do it. They send my sweet Andy right over the precipice, and I grin because that’s one.

And I’m already planning two.

Chapter Twenty-Three-Andrea

I freeze when the door slams shut.

Then he’s there.

Remy.

All six-foot-whatever of lethal, tattooed fury—eyes blazing, jaw locked, moving like a predator who’s finally cornered his prey.

Me.