Page 71 of The Devil's Deceit

“Why? Sex should be amusing. It’s far more fun that way.”

“Okay, let’s see if you’re laughing when I do this.” She lowers her head and sucks the crown into her mouth.

“Fuck, not…” I gasp when she sticks her tongue in the slit. “Not laughing.”

Jamming my fingers into her hair, I hold on for dear life as she licks and sucks and nibbles, and that small hand rubs my dick with the exact amount of pressure to make me see fucking stars.

The tickle starts in my balls, shooting up my spine and sizzling along my shaft. I’m close. Any second, I’m gonna?—

“Coming,” I grit out, wrenching her off me just in time. Jet after jet of cum sprays her chest and neck and when the jets lessen, the last drops dribble down her hand. I’m out of breath, gasping for air. “Jesus. Christ, Grace. Fuck.”

A dribble of cum slides from her neck, landing on the curve of her breast. Scooping it up with her finger, she slides it into her mouth, sucks, then releases her finger with a pop. “Tastes faintly of champagne.”

I forget how to close my mouth. There is something incredibly sexy about a woman tasting the cum you’ve sprayed all over her body. Words stick in my throat, and I open and shut my mouth at least three times.

“Excellent fish impression you’ve got going on there.” Grace giggles.

It takes a second for me to flip her on her back and straddle her. Bending my head, I lick my cum off her chest. “Tastes like cum to me.”

“You clearly have an untrained palate. We are what we eat and drink, and you’ve had a glass or two of champagne.”

God, I fucking love how she banters with me. I’ve never been with a woman where I’ve had this much fun both in and out of bed.

Using my palm, I rub the rest of my cum into her skin. She arches an eyebrow. “Are you marking me?”

“Yes.”

“Warning off pretendersto your crown?”

“There are no pretenders. You, wife, are mine.”

“Until you bore of me.” Her eyes twinkle, and although I know she’s messing with me, every time she brings up what I said, I want to reach into my throat and rip those words out of my voice box. Regrets are pointless, but I fucking regret ever saying that.

“Shh.” I run my hand from her neck to her abdomen as I scooch down the bed. “I’m about to see if your cum tastes of champagne.”

The hiss she makes as I sweep my tongue over her pussy is a sound I can’t imagine ever tiring of. That boredom I predicted is a long fucking way off.

If it even comes at all.

Chapter Twenty-Three

GRACE

The platinum wedding band Christian slipped on my finger a few hours ago glints in the muted light as I thrust my fingers into his thick, soft strands and lift myself up to watch him eat me out. He does something with his tongue that lifts my pelvis off the bed.

“God, Jesus, don’t stop.”

I feel his grin, and he repeats the action. His enthusiasm for licking my pussy is unrivaled. Not that I’ve had many men down there, but enough to know Christian isn’t faking his enjoyment. His grunts and moans mingle with my own, and I swear I lose all feeling in my legs. The swell in my lower abdomen starts out as a flutter, growing in weight and intensity. One draw of his teeth over my clit, and I climax, chanting his name over and over. I clamp his head to me, and he keeps on licking and nibbling until I’m a writhing, sweaty mess.

“You must’ve had a lot of practice at that.”

He rests his chin on my mound and gazes up at me with an impish grin and those dark brown eyes of his that I’mdamn sure have tempted many a woman into his bed. A burning sensation spreads through my chest.

Ihatethe thought of him with other women, and I hate that I hate it. This man is not mine, and I’m not his. This is temporary, and no amount of mindboggling orgasms is going to change that fact.

Remember what he did. Remember what you’re here to do.

He drops kisses along my hipbone, my abdomen, my breasts. Reaching across me, he opens the bedside drawer and emerges with a silver packet. Tearing it open with his teeth, he rolls it over his erection, his eyes never leaving mine for a second.