Page 43 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)

I laugh—she’s the one who’s been heartless.

I don’t even think she hates me anymore—she did at first, but not anymore.

She seems to see me as some kind of outlet for her desires, a fucktoy.

I don’t know why that makes me so furious when I felt exactly the same way about her and decided to lend her money explicitly so I could fuck her out of my system.

Her knees tremble, then finally buckle. I catch her and roll, minimizing the impact. My fingers invade her again, this time three at once. She lifts her hips off the floor and tries to move them against me, but I hold her pelvis.

“Behave.” I rip the lacy panties, revealing the slick, flushed flesh.

How can she be this wet and needy and still say no to a simple kiss?

I blow on her quivering flesh. Her muscles tense beneath my palms. I lean in to claim her mouth, but she turns her head away.

I press my lips on her throat, then trail along the edge of the choker, palming her right breast and pinching the nipple between my index and middle fingers just the way she likes.

Her spine arches. She moves her legs restlessly against me, her scorching core rubbing against my exposed cock, which starts to swell. She pants, tunneling her fingers into my hair. I place kisses along her cheeks, then down at the corner of her mouth. She quivers, but doesn’t turn away.

Yes.

Triumphant, I glide my lips over—

An abrupt ringing startles her. She puts a hand on my mouth, then turns away.

What the hell? I glare at her phone, wanting to shatter it into bits of plastic. “Ignore it,” I say, but she fumbles for it with the desperation of a person lost in a desert seeking water. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The lusty haze clears from her eyes as she hits the green button without checking who’s calling. The violent urge to vent my frustration and fury rages in my heart, and I take a deep breath to control my temper.

“What the fuck is this? You never called to see how I was doing after that fucker hit me! Do you know what happened to me?”

Jude’s voice. Fiona turns red, white, then red, her eyes flashing. Hang up, I mouth, but she shakes her head. I narrow my eyes and pinch her nipple hard. She bites back a gasp and glares at me.

“Oh, did something happen to you? To your widdle weg?” she coos, but then the coo turns into a snarl. “I hope he broke your fucking knee !”

Whoa. The tone cuts through my lust like a laser. I’ve never heard her talk like that, not even when I got extra nasty with her. Since it’s directed at that son of a bitch, I pull her left nipple into my mouth to reward her.

She grips my head. Instead of pulling me away like I half expected, she holds me tight.

“Shut your mouth, you bitch. I can only indulge you so far!”

“Should I be grateful?” She’s a bit breathless.

I suck harder and push three fingers into her even wetter pussy.

“Tomorrow’s my birthday. I expect you to come to the party with a suitable present. Don’t make me lose face this time. The only reason I’m not punishing you for the wedding is because Bryce attacked me and took you away.”

“Actually, I took his hand in marriage,” she says, panting. “And you don’t have to wait until tomorrow for your present. I’m going to give it to you right now. I’m going to let you hear what I sound like when I’m not faking it .”

I remove my fingers and pull away, wondering what the hell she’s saying. Jude never made her come? In two years?

“In case it’s not clear, I never, ever climaxed with you. Not once. I just faked it so you’d stop grunting over me like a disgusting pig. You’re a worthless human being. And about as hot as an ice machine in Antarctica.”

Jude shouts expletives, and I snort with mirth. The more furiously he shouts, the more satisfied I become. When she’d just betrayed me, I tormented myself for months thinking about what my shortcomings could’ve been—wondering if he was better in bed than me .

Scoffing at his tantrum, she puts her own fingers into herself, her eyes on mine, and cups her breast, toying with her nipple, still wet from my mouth.

Defiance and vengeful satisfaction glitter in her eyes, and my dick is harder than stone. I grip my shaft tightly and move my hand up and down, imagining shoving it into her tight pussy as I claim her mouth. “Rub your clit if you want to feel even better.”

“What the fuck?” Jude’s scream comes from the speaker. “Who the fuck are you with?”

She shifts her hand so she can move her pelvis and grind her clit against her palm.

She breathes harder, her mouth slack with rising pleasure.

But frustration glitters in her eyes—she can’t quite bring herself to an orgasm.

Her fingers aren’t long enough to hit the most sensitive spot inside her.

She’s going to need something longer and thicker inside her or need a vibrator.

I push her hand out of the way, then violently drive into her in one hard stroke.

She groans. I drive into her relentlessly, gripping her hips and angling her so I’m hitting her G-spot with each thrust. She writhes, her back arching.

Her pretty tits rebound with each push, and I take the left nipple into my mouth and suck hard.

She screams as a climax sweeps over her.

Her pussy spams around me. Another orgasm barrels toward me.

I pull out and pump into my fist. My cum hits her still-quivering belly.

Damn, she’s infuriating, but when she’s flushed and lax with the peak I just gave her, covered in my cum and wearing nothing but my choker and heels, it’s like I can almost forgive her for everything.

“That’s how she sounds like when she comes with my cock inside her,” I say, then end the call. Hopefully Jude just died from blowing a vein or two in his head. “Did you like that?” I jerk my chin at the phone.

“It was satisfying. I should’ve told him that a long, long time ago.”

I frown. “You never came with him? Ever?”

“No.” She shifts, her eyes unreadable.

“But you guys were together for two years.”

“So? That doesn’t mean he was good in bed.”

I feel utterly confused. I always assumed she left me for him because he was at least decent in bed. I’ve driven myself crazy thinking about it. “What did you see in him?”

“Nothing.”

“But—”

She places a finger over my mouth. “Sometimes a relationship isn’t about what you see in the other person. It was just”—she sighs, her shoulders slumping a little—“really complicated.”