Page 152 of The Christmas Trap

“Remember what I promised you?”

I nod. “My orgasm.”

“Indeed.” He urges me to stand then step between his thighs. “Lift your dress.”

“What?” My gaze widens.

“Don't you want your orgasm?”

Of course, I do. What kind of question is that?It no longer surprises me that the question spikes my lust and tightens a knot of desire in my lower belly.

His touch sparks a raw ache behind my pussy and turns me into a mass of molten need.

“Answer me, wife.”

Well, hell, when he calls me that, it touches something deep inside of me. No way, can I resist him.

“Yes.” My voice emerges strong and sure.

He nods as if it’s confirmed something to him. “Then do as I say.”

The edge of dominance to his tone is sharper than the lash of a whip. It spurs me on to take handfuls of the silky material of my dress and pull it up. Slowly. Slowly. The whisper of the fabric against my thighs sends goosebumps trembling over my skin. I pause when the hem brushes against my upper thighs.

He’s at eye level with my cunt. He leans in and nuzzles the shadowed place between my legs. Oh God. Liquid heat licks up my veins. My knees threaten to buckle from under me.

He steadies me with a hand on my hip. When he’s confident I can stand on my own, he lowers his arm and leans back as if settling in for a show.

“Keep going,” he orders.

I lift my dress up, then further up. Until my pussy is bare.

He makes a noise at the back of his throat. “No panties.”

I allow myself a small smile of triumph.The dress wouldn’t allow for it.

“Of course, not.” I hear the smirk in his voice.

He urges me to take a step back. “Widen your legs.”

The dark desire in his words, the sin which drips from his tone, lights a fuse in my blood.

I shuffle my feet apart as much as my position will allow.

The red-soled heels I wear lend extra height to my legs. It makesme feel strong and proud and powerful. That, and the fact that my husband is staring at my cunt, and his elevated breathing, as well as the growing tent between his legs, tell me he’s very aroused.

He snakes out his arm and slaps my pussy.

I cry out. I should have expected him to do this. It’s his favorite way to greet that intimate part of me. Yet it takes me by surprise.

Shock waves pulse out from my clit to my nipples, which tighten, and to my brain cells, which turn into oscillating pendulums of desire.

“Keep it down, we don’t want to alert my family,” he drawls.

Oh my God. That’s so forbidden, not to mention, embarrassing. And of course, that ratchets up my desire.

Still, I put up a token resistance. “If anyone walks in on us, they’ll see me like this.”

“In which case, you’d better come quickly.”