Page 9 of Sins of Arrogance (Syndicate Sins #1)

MICK

Kara shifts up onto her knees and reaches behind her neck to unhook the halter top. Then her hands lower and there's the soft swish of a zipper going down.

She lets the dress fall away from her body, revealing her bountiful tits, the sweet swell of her tummy, the thin silver lines attesting to her pregnancy with Fitz. Then she pulls it off completely, tossing it to the floor as she settles back on her arms, her legs stretched out toward me.

No shame. No hesitation. Just all that soft, pale skin and those full tits rising with every breath.

Fuck me.

I cross the room in two steps, grip her ankles, and yank her to the edge of the bed. She gasps, but her thighs fall open like they’re begging for me. Moisture turns the gusset of her panties dark, and I haven’t even touched her yet.

"You’re soaked," I rasp.

"Whose fault is that?"

It had better be mine. Always and forever. No one else touches this woman but me.

I sink to my knees and press my mouth to the heat of her through the thin cotton. She arches, whining low in her throat. The scent of her hits me like a punch to the gut – sweet, musky, mine.

I want to tear these panties off with my teeth. I want to push her down and hold her there while I fuck her so hard she forgets her own name. But I can’t.

I won’t.

Because if she ever sees what’s inside me, the part that wants to pin her, to mark her, I don’t know if she’ll ever look at me the same way again.

Unable to hold back everything, I press a hot kiss just above the wet cotton, sucking at her pussy lips through it. I don't drink to excess. I don't do drugs, but I get drunk on her taste.

She moans, writhing on the bed, pressing her feminine flesh toward my mouth.

I indulge us both until the frustration of even the slight barrier her panties make is too much. I want her bare for me. Dripping. Open. But I can’t let myself forget she’s not just a body, not just a wet, greedy cunt I want to live inside.

She’s Kara. My wife.

I force myself to draw my knife instead of ripping her panties from her body. That would hurt her. Yanked hard enough to tear, even cotton will leave angry marks like a rug burn.

I did it once before. Right after she got pregnant, when we finally got to have penetrative sex for the first time. The marks lasted for three days and she winced when they brushed against something…or someone. Me.

I'll never do it again.

Pressing the tip of the lethally sharp blade of my knife between the fabric and her hip, I slice upward not even brushing the silky-smooth skin underneath.

Another quick slice on the other side and I can pull the panties from her body. I draw them upward, rubbing over the swollen little clit that is now peeking out of its hood and begging for attention.

She bucks her hips, hungry for more, but I bring her panties to my nose, mainlining her pheromones for several deep breaths.

"Michael!" She draws my name out in demand.

Hell, I love when she calls me by my given name. She's the only person who does and she only does it in the bedroom.

I tuck her panties into my pocket and Kara surges up from the bed, cupping my face between her hands, and kissing me like it’s the only way she can breathe.

Her tongue tangles with mine, needy and messy and real. She moans into my mouth and shifts so she can rub her soaked pussy against my chest, dragging her slick over my skin.

I’m going to lose my mind.

If my cock was out, it would already be inside her slippery, tight folds.

She breaks the kiss, panting. "I need you inside me, Michael. I want it hard. I want to feel you after."

Teetering on the edge of control, I close my eyes for a beat, swallowing the feral snarl that threatens to rip from my throat. "Ye don’t know what you’re asking."

"Yes, I do," she gasps with certainty. "I trust you."

God help me. A woman like her shouldn't trust a man like me. And her trust shouldn't make my cock throb like it’s about to tear through my pants.

But it does.

"You'll have to wait. I want to taste your sweet honey straight from the source first." I spread her thighs wide and bury my face in her pussy.

Her cry is instant, sharp and breathless. "Michael!"

Both tangy and sweet, she tastes like fucking salvation.

I flatten my tongue and drag it from her slick entrance all the way to her clit. Her thighs quiver against my shoulders, and her hands fly to my hair. She grips tight like she needs something to anchor her.

She always responds like this. Always melts the second I touch her. It’s a damn drug, the way her body yields, the way she writhes when I suck her clit into my mouth and lap at it like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.

She bucks, and I hold her down with an arm across her pelvis. Not as hard as I want to. Just enough to keep her still while I tongue her until she’s panting my name.

"Please, Michael. I can't…"

"Ye can," I growl, the words muffled against her heat. "You’re going to come all over my mouth, Kara. Give it to me."

She shatters.

One minute she’s begging, the next she’s gone, head thrown back, thighs locked around my head, screaming as her pussy pulses against my tongue. Her orgasm rolls through her in waves, and I keep licking until she jerks and tries to pull away.

Too much. Too sensitive. But she tastes too good to stop.

Only when she’s sobbing my name do I finally let her go.

I rise, shoving my pants and briefs down in one motion. My cock springs free, flushed and hard and aching to be inside her. Kara’s eyes drop to it, and she licks her lips like she’s starving. I almost come from that look alone.

"Get on your knees," I rasp. "Hands and knees, baby. Let me see you."

She doesn’t hesitate.

She turns, presenting herself with the confidence established intimacy. Ass high, thighs parted. I can see everything – her swollen pussy, her juices, the way her inner lips glisten in the low light of the bedroom.

My control slips.

I grip her hips tight enough to make her gasp and line myself up. I should go slow. Should let her adjust.

I don’t.

I shove in, hard and deep, burying every inch in one savage thrust. Only then can I stop. But it nearly fucking kills me.

Kara cries out, arching under me. Not in pain. In need.

"Yes," she gasps. "Just like that. More."

Her voice is wrecked, her breath catching with every stroke. I thrust harder, faster, chasing the edge like a madman. Her ass ripples from the impact. Her pussy squeezes me so tight I see stars.

"You’re mine," I grit out. "No one else gets this. No one else gets you like this."

"Yes. Michael. Yes, yours…" She slams back against me, matching my rhythm.

She wants this. Needs the same filthy, ruthless pleasure I do.

I reach around and palm her tits, one hand cupping the heavy globe, fingers tweaking her nipple while I keep pounding into her.

"Ye drive me insane," I growl into her ear, leaning over her. "Ye know that? I think about fucking ya every time I see you walk across the room."

"I love it," she moans. "I love when you lose control."

She doesn’t know what she’s saying.

I never lose control. Not fully. Not with her.

Because if I did, she’d be pinned to this bed, unable to move while I fucked her until she couldn’t breathe.

I slide my hand between her legs and rub her clit as I thrust harder, faster, deeper. She starts to come again, shaking and gasping, walls milking me like her body doesn’t want to let me go.

And I don’t go. Not yet.

I slow just enough to drag it out, her pussy still fluttering around me, still so damn hot and wet it takes everything in me not to give her every dark, unholy thing I fantasize about.

When her moans fade to whimpers, I pull out, flip her onto her back, and thrust in again.

I need to see her.

Her eyes are glassy, lips parted, flushed and swollen and perfect.

"More," she whispers. "Please."

God help me.

I fuck her slow and deep now, grinding in circles with every stroke. I watch her unravel. Watch her melt under me. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, and I can’t stop touching them, squeezing them, sucking on them until her back bows and she claws at my shoulders.

I hold her like she’s fragile even as I drive into her like she’s the only thing keeping me grounded. Because she is.

She comes again, this time silent. Just her mouth open in a soundless cry and tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. She clings to me like she’ll drown without something to hold on to.

I let go.

My climax tears through me, white-hot and brutal. I bury my face in her neck and groan as I pulse inside her, my cock jerking with every spurt.

We stay tangled like that for a long time. Her breath is ragged. Mine is worse.

And the monster inside me?

Still there.

Still hungry. Always feckin' hungry.

For her.