Page 33 of Intense (Beneath The Blaze #3)

STEPHANIE

T he kiss is everything I never knew I needed.

He leads, I submit. With his hand around my throat, his cock pressing against my pussy as I grind against him.

I want to touch him, to take some control back, but I don’t. Because I know the second I do, I’ll break the spell.

And I should, because this isn’t right.

Married or not, he is not mine. And I am not his.

But right now, it feels like we belong to no one but this moment. His fingers trail along my thigh, and I shiver.

“I knew my wife wanted me,” he whispers against my lips.

Then he bites down—hard enough to draw blood.

“Ouch. Fuck.” I pull back and wipe the warm liquid from my lip.

He shakes his head, swiping the blood away with the tip of his finger.

My stomach flips.

My mouth drops open as he sucks it clean.

Shit. That was so wrong—and so hot. His hand cups my aching pussy. Just a light touch, but it’s enough to make me almost jump off his lap.

“Did you like that, hmm? A little bit of pain?” he asks, tilting his head, studying me.

“Yes,” I breathe.

His fingers slip under my panties, and then he rips them clean off.

“Atta girl.”

He grips my throat and thrusts two fingers inside me, making me cry out.

“F-Finn,” I moan.

He doesn’t let up. There’s no teasing build. No slow seduction. Just—intensity.

“Already trembling for me. I fucking knew it.”

The sound of my wetness echoes between us.

“I want you to bleed for me, temptress. But before I can do that, I need to break you in. Make you all fuckin’ mine. Is that what you want?” he rasps.

I nod, breathless, already ruined for anyone else.

When his thumb presses down on my clit, I jump and moan at the same time.

“You really are sensitive,” he says, almost with concern.

He pulls my face to his, stilling his fingers inside me, his eyes locked on mine.

“Fuck. Please tell me you aren’t a virgin. I don’t have it in me to be gentle with you,” he says.

I can’t help but giggle.

“You think I’d be brave enough to sit on your lap if I was? No. I was just… surprised,” I tell him.

He frowns.

“By?”

I can’t find the words right now, my head is fried.

“This is pretty simple stuff you’re doing. We haven’t even gotten anywhere near the interesting part yet,” he continues.

A thrill shoots up my spine.

“Interesting?” I ask.

He smirks.

“All in good time. I don’t wanna scare you off just yet.”

My mouth drops open just imagining what he could do to me.

“Now, what was surprising about being finger-fucked and choked?” he asks, genuinely curious.

I shake my head with a small smile.

“No. When you pressed down on my clit. You didn’t even search for it. You just... knew where it was.”

He blinks at me.

“Stephanie… serious question. How many brain cells did your past lovers have? And why couldn’t they find the clit? What the fuck were they aiming for?”

I shrug.

“Fuck knows. But I’ve never had a clit-stimulated orgasm from a man before.”

A slow, deadly smile spreads across his lips.

“Never? Fucking hell. You shouldn’t have told me that, because I’m about to come in my boxers.”

I bite my lip and shake my head. I like that I can make him lose control too.

“Are you accepting this challenge, Dr. Quinn?” I playfully ask him.

His fingers begin to move again, and I lean down to kiss him.

I want to worship him for what he’s doing to me. For what he might be capable of.

I want him to feel what he does to me.

“Easy.”

I let out a squeal as he lifts me in his arms, then lowers me into the wooden chair.

“Legs open,” he says, towering above me.

He slowly unbuttons his shirt, just enough to reveal more tattoos sprawling across his chest. Then he rolls up his sleeves, veins popping. Christ, he’s gorgeous.

My heart pounds. My body is burning for him.

Looking around the room, he steps away, only to return with two black and gold belts.

Without a word, he places my arms on the rests and ties them tight.

Then, he drops to his knees in front of me.

And that’s when my pulse nearly stops.

My boss. My husband. The man who makes me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt, on his knees, for me.

Not to propose.

Not to beg.

But to devour.

I never, ever, in a million years, thought I’d have him like this.

Let alone to eat me out in a fucking strip club.

Yet here I am, legs spread, waiting for my husband to put his mouth on me.

And for once in my life, I’m not afraid of being seen. I’m afraid of how good he’s going to make it feel.