Page 64 of Vows in Sin

A deep moan rises from him. Out of patience, he grabs my waist with his good hand, lifts his ass off the bench and yanks me down onto his lap. “Oh god!” My eyes close, my head lulling back as he simultaneously jacks his hips up in the air, a punishing jackhammer thrust entering me. I stretch and burn, warm tingles of delight and fire sparking inside me.

“Seraphina,” he gasps. “My arm.”

I glance down, seeing that my fingernails are digging into him. Hard. “Oh crap. Sorry.” I smooth my hands down his arms, gently over the sling then bring one hand up to his good shoulder, holding on as I move my hips back and forth.

“You’re a fucking goddess. So beautiful. Let me see you.” He cups my face in his palm, slipping his thumb between my lips.

One hand holding onto his neck, I stare into his eyes as I suck his thumb, rocking and rolling my hips, letting that delicious burning yearn grow in my core.

“Fucking hell, Seraphina. You’re gonna kill an old man.”

I tighten the hold I have around his throat. He leans back, rewarding my naughty move with a punishing upward thrust of his hips. With one hand, he forces me to clamp down on him, glueing me to his lap as he starts fucking me, hard and fast.

I’m bouncing on his lap, sucking his thumb like I would his cock. I clench my pussy around him, locking my muscles tight.

“Hold it there,” he moans. “Come with me. Are you ready, sweetheart?”

I don’t want his thumb out of my mouth. I nod. He grips my hip harder, bouncing me as he reads my moans. When my head finally throws back, my cry frees from my throat. “Yes! Reign. Yes!”

He gives his own victory cry, holding me down on him so he can fill me up with his liquid heat. I collapse against him, my head falling against the curve of his neck and good shoulder.

He wraps his good arm around my waist, catching his breath. “Come here, my doll.”

He brushes my hair back from my face, replacing it with the scruff of his beard as it rubs my skin. His lips are warm, his voice gruff. “When do we tell Tabitha?”

Our perfect moment is over.

“Hang on.” I stand, doing my best to catch what I can in the pocket square that he hands me from his suit jacket pocket. I rub between my legs, trying not to ruin my dress.

I sit down on the bench, leaving enough room between us so we can look at one another. “Not yet. There’s far too much going on. We don’t need to add to the drama.”

“Drama?”

I press a hand to his chest. “If you know Tabitha like I do, when she finds out, there’s going to be. Real. Serious. Drama.”

He grabs my hand in his. “But I want the world to know.”

“So do I,” I agree. “But not yet.”

He brings my hand to his lips. He sucks the end of my fingers, biting them before he releases. “When?”

“When things calm down.”

“I need a date,” he urges.

“After the wedding.”

He eyes me. “How soon is this wedding?”

“A couple of days,” I reassure. “No more than that. I promise. Emilia says what the people need now is hope. And weddings bring hope.”

Desperate, his brows rise. “Right after?”

“At least let the bride and groom cut the cake first,” I joke.

Footsteps approach. My heart stutters. No one can know.

Not yet.