Chapter Five

 

What was she doing?

When he’d left her this afternoon, she’d known they had to clear the air before things went any further. She had to tell him about everything, including the phone call she’d made to request reinforcements.

He deserved to know.

So why hadn’t she said anything? Why had she spent the evening with William, his friends and coworkers, pretending to be his wife? His real wife.

Because you wanted it to be true.

After some straight talk from Bubbles and Pat at the bar, all her reasons why she and William weren’t a good idea seemed small and unimportant. Excuses to cover up her fear that she’d fallen in love with a man who might not want to stick around once his paperwork came through.

The fact that he’d lied about his mystery woman should have reinforced her doubts. If she were smart, she’d tell him what she knew and get the hell out of town.

But if she were honest, she’d admit she was more relieved than upset that his heart didn’t belong to anybody else.

Because she wanted it for herself. 

The Waynes always knew when they’d found the person they were meant to love. She’d believed that, seen the proof, but after too many years of waiting for someone to finally come along, Bronte had given up.

Of course, she hadn’t counted on her own obstinate nature keeping her from seeing what was right in front of her for months. Or for all of their problems to still be there waiting on the other side of her great epiphany.

She was in love with her accidental, temporary, inconvenient rascal of a husband.

He made her feel alive. Made her feel so much she wasn’t sure what to do with it all. It was overwhelming. And the more she learned about him, the worse it got. Her heart hurt for him, her body craved him, and all she knew was that they both had too many damn clothes on.

“What is it, Bronte? Never had a man carry you down the street and up two flights of stairs before?”

She shot him a baleful look. He wasn’t even out of breath. “Set me down, show off.”

“No.” His hands flexed around her curves. “I need you in my arms, Nightingale. You’ve been driving me crazy all night.”

He slid his fingers beneath her silk panties and they both groaned. “Take off your jacket.”

She obeyed quickly, expectation making her heart pound. “Now what?”

In answer, William dragged her down his body, lining her up until she felt the thick weight of his erection gliding over her sex.

“I can feel how wet you are,” he said hoarsely. “That silk is giving away all your secrets, darlin’. I wanted to take my time, but I’m not sure how long I can wait to get inside you.”

“Don’t wait,” she gasped, her hands caressing his neck, his shoulders, anything she could reach. She tore at the buttons on his shirt, surprised at how badly her hands were shaking. “I need you now. I want you, William.”

He made a pained sound and then she was backed against the nearest wall so he could pump his hips hard against her. It felt as if he was trying to fuck her through her clothes.

“She wants me, she says,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Are you trying to make me come in my pants, woman?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she took his earlobe between her teeth. “As long as the next time you make sure to come inside me.”

One large hand left her hips to yank at the neckline of her dress. “I need to see you. I want to touch these breasts you’ve been teasing me with. Kiss them.”

He managed to push the fabric halfway down her arms, snarling when he realized her bra clasped in the back. “Off. Now.”

Arousal soaked her at his harsh command. He was mouthing kisses along her neck and the top of her breasts, impatience rumbling in his chest as she reached behind her and managed to snag the release. The tangled sleeves of her dress were making it difficult to move.

“Oh God,” she moaned when he yanked the bra down forcefully, revealing her heavy breasts to his gaze.

William’s stare was as potent as a physical caress. “I’ve been starving for this feast, love. For you. Will you give me a taste?”

She arched her back, offering herself up to him. “Please.”

Bronte couldn’t contain her cries when he took each breast in his mouth in turn, biting, licking and sucking on her nipples until she was begging for release.

“Beautiful,” he groaned, tongue circling the tight, sensitive buds. “Beautiful Bronte, do you like this?”

Her shoes fell off and she dug her heels into his perfect ass, hearing him groan in response before his hips started rocking hers into the wall.

So close. So close.

“You need to come, don’t you, Mrs. Finn?”

“Please.”

“I’m the one begging now, darlin’. Let me take care of you.”

He took another hard pull from her nipple as his hand slipped between their bodies, his fingers unerringly finding her clit beneath her dress and pinching it between his thick fingers.

“What are you—oh my GoddamnWilliam!”

She felt him smiling, but his voice was barely recognizable. “I’m not stopping this time. Not until you beg me to. Not until I’ve squeezed the last scream out of you and you can’t remember what it’s like to be without me inside you.”

Bronte dipped her head to kiss him, sucking on his lower lip and sliding her tongue against his greedily. His masculine taste made her moan, and the two fingers that slipped inside her to rub that spot—oh fuck, that perfect spot—turned the moan into a shout as she came on his hand.

She was still quaking with it when he laid her on his bed, stripping her with swift, urgent movements.

“Again,” he said, lowering himself down beside her, fingers between her legs and mouth back at her breasts.

“You’re so beautiful, Bronte. So tight. I need you to be ready for me.”

“I’m ready,” she swore, lifting weak arms to try and drag him on top of her. “You’re the one who needs to get naked.”

“Not yet.” He closed his eyes when he added a third finger inside her, stretching her to her limit. “Once I start, I won’t be able to hold back. Not this first time. Not with you. You have to come for me first.”

“Again?” She tossed her head, a little defiant and a lot desperate. She unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and slipped her hand inside, caressing his abs. They tensed and flexed beneath her hand and she shivered, fingers fumbling with the button on his jeans. “I want you inside me, William.”

“I am inside you. Can’t you feel me?” The thick digits were thrusting harder inside her now and the heel of his hand was pressing against her clit. “Can’t you hear how wet you are for me?”

He swore under his breath. “Look at you bucking against my fingers and begging for more. Sexiest wife I’ve ever had.”

She gasped out a laugh. “The only one you’ve ever had, buddy.”

“My only.” He looked down at her breasts and licked his lips. “I want to be the only one to do a lot of things to this body. Things that you’ll blush about later. Things you’ll never forget.”

She cupped her breasts, lifting and pressing them together, feeling his cock digging into her hip impatiently in reaction. “I think I can guess a few of them.”

“You’re reading my mind, love.” He licked her nipples and sucked deep, his magic fingers throwing her over the edge again, making her scream.

“That’s right. You’re shouting my name, aren’t you, Nightingale? Only mine.”

He got to his feet and stripped, his eyes a wild, turbulent sea and his cheeks flushed with need.

For her.

Bronte looked down and swallowed another moan as he gripped the base of his thick shaft. He was beautiful. A marble statue come to life. The man didn’t have an ounce of wasted flesh on him, but what he did have was big. Bigger than she remembered after that one quick glimpse all those months ago.

“Like what you see?”

He was waiting, she realized. Asking permission like he had every step of the way, so she would know she was in control. Safe. In that moment she felt another door in her heart open wide. One she’d locked years ago and forgotten all about until now.

William had given her another gift.

With her throat tight, she leaned back on her elbows and let her thighs part seductively. “I’m not sure. I think you need to bring it closer.”

His smile, half knowing and half relieved was her reward. Then his hands were on her calves, tugging her toward the edge of the bed.

She let out an undignified yelp as her ass hit his thighs. “That works too.”

William lifted one of her legs to dangle over his arm, the other falling to the side weakly as he dragged the head of his erection through her arousal. “I’m healthy, Bronte. I haven’t been with anyone since you seduced me in those sexy dinosaur scrubs.”

Since they met? She was stunned, but too distracted by what he was doing to realize what he was really asking. “William?”

He waited for her to look into his eyes. “I don’t want anything between us. Not here.”

She must have nodded or made some sound of agreement, because he fell on her with a loud groan, filling her with one deep, forceful stroke that stole her breath.

He leaned over her, his thick shaft stretching her almost to the point of pain. “I’ve never done this before. Bare Bronte,” he moaned. “That’s my new drug. I’m so deep, darlin’. Fuck, love, if you felt any better I would die.”

“I’m on the pill,” she managed to gasp, her neck arching as her body tried to adjust to the thickness of him. “We’re safe.”

He pinned her to the bed, her knee near her shoulder, unable to do anything but take the pounding pleasure he was determined to give. “What if we weren’t?”

“What?”

His breath was hot on her cheek and there was an edge to his voice. “I’m fucking your tight pussy bare, Mrs. Finn. You can’t know how many times I’ve taken myself in hand imagining how you’d feel. How hard I got at the thought of coming inside you, filling you up until you were dripping with it. With me.”

She moaned at his words, his thrusts coming harder. Faster. “William.”

“I need to claim it,” he rasped, his cheeks flushed with heat and desire. “You’ve been saving it for me and I need to mark it as mine. I wouldn’t care if you weren’t on the pill, Nightingale. I’ve imagined that too.”

That shouldn’t make her so hot. “Oh hell, you’re as kinky as your cousins, aren’t you? First the spanking and now you’re thinking about knocking me up.”

“You haven’t seen kinky yet, love.” He changed angles and thrust deeper, making them both moan out loud.

“Is it wrong for a man to admit he wouldn’t mind seeing his wife pregnant?” he asked, breathless with arousal. “Or maybe we should wait to bring it up until I’m older, so you won’t feel so dirty begging for my come.”

She whacked his arm, her body trembling as fire burned through her, building to an inferno. “Stop.”

“No! Wait! Don’t stop,” she shouted when he paused above her.

“Which is it, Nightingale?” His chest expanded, face almost feral as he waited for her reply. Oh God, she was so close. “You can only pick one.”

“Don’t stop.” She needed him. All of him. “Please, William.”

“Tell me what you want.”

For this not to be a fantasy.

Bronte’s eyelids fluttered but she struggled to keep them open, to look right into his. “Come inside me, William. Give me everything. I dare you.”

“God yes,” he groaned, the last of his hesitation disappearing at her words.

The bed started groaning with the force of his thrusts, headboard banging against the wall as she reached for something to hold onto. Anything.

William.

She could hear the noises she was making, daring him to take her harder, begging to be filled, speaking in lust-filled tongues, but she couldn’t find it in her to be embarrassed or shocked. He’d woken something up inside her and it was loud and greedy and fearless.

“I’m close,” he said almost angrily. “I want more but it’s too good. You’re squeezing me so tight, darlin’. You want it now, is that it? Too impatient to wait?”

“Yes,” she panted, close to sobbing it felt so good.

His fingers dropped to her clit again. “You first, Bronte. I want to feel you coming on my cock before I let go.”

As if it were a command she had to obey, Bronte’s body shook with a climax so powerful she almost blacked out.

William roared above her and a flood of warmth filled her as his thrusts lost their rhythm. Then he was begging and praying too, unintelligible words that were muffled against her breasts. She wrapped her arms around him until his large body stilled and shuddered.

What just happened?

Her experience was limited to teenage fumbling in backseats and post-prom hotel rooms for the most part, but she was willing to go out on a limb and bet that had gone on a record somewhere. Like an earthquake registered on the other side of the globe.

Seismic.

And he’d wanted to come inside her. Mark her. He’d made her beg for it.

She was a strong, black woman with a good head on her shoulders, but that was the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced.

“I think you won this round. I heard a bell ring.”

William lifted his head, his blue eyes lightening with suppressed laughter. “We’ll call it a draw since I’ve lost all feeling in my legs.”

They both chuckled and he rolled off of her, flopping onto his back. “I need a minute.”

“I’m impressed. I might need at least sixty.”

He raised himself up on his elbow and let his gaze roam the length of her. “That’s excessive, Mrs. Finn. Anything I can do to speed up that timeline?”

Keep looking at me like that.

“Why don’t we compromise?” He said, before she had a chance to respond. “I’ll draw us a bath.”

She waited, raising one eyebrow. “What’s the compromise?”

He was off the bed so fast she assumed he could feel his legs again. “You can rest until it’s ready.”

“That’s all?”

“I’ll wash while you ride.”

His wicked laughter followed him out of the room.

Bronte closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She might not have to worry about confessions or who was showing up tomorrow. She’d die before the sun came up.

But she’d be smiling.