Cash
She doesn’t know I’m coming. Instead of replying to her texts, I headed out the door, driven by urgency and possibly a little lunacy. Because I’m done waiting. We danced around each other for two months before giving in, and ever since then it seems like the world is conspiring to keep us apart.
My wife.
Her ex.
Too much baggage.
Reaching her door, I announce my presence with three loud raps of my fist. My heartbeat does an erratic, thunderous, dangerous dance in my chest as the soft pad of her footsteps narrow the distance between us.
I can already taste her, feel her, smell her. Hear her throaty cries when she comes. God, she’s in trouble. Heaven and Earth can’t stop me.
She swings the door open, and our eyes meet. She sucks in a breath.
I do too, but it does nothing to calm this disastrous storm inside me. It’s not the product of anger, though that emotion is wreaking havoc somewhere in the trenches of my gut. No, this is the consequence of agony, the result of Fate’s merciless fuck you.
This is the by-product of not only catching her in another man’s arms, but reliving the burned image every time I close my eyes.
This is possessive jealousy on steroids.
“I only need to know one thing. Do you want me?”
Narrowing her warm sable eyes, she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and fuck, if I make her ache for nothing else, that come-hither nibble is reason enough.
“Answer me, Jules.” The fierce timbre of my voice widens her eyes.
“What kind of question is that? Of course I want you.”
I push my way into her apartment, backing her up step-by-step, and take her chin in my hand as her front door slams shut behind us.
“I won’t share you.”
“I won’t share you either,” she counters.
“Understood.” Catching a whiff of her vanilla scent, I lower my gaze to her pajama-clad body. “Take off your clothes.”
Her breathing quickens, and the alluring swell of her tits draws my focus. She brings her hands to the buttons of her top, hypnotizing me as she works them free. But I feel the weight of her stare and all but fall into her eyes.
Time seems to stop as she studies me. “You’re angry with me,” she says, a ring of truth in her statement.
“Yes.”
“Nothing happened.”
“You kissed him. That’s something.”
“He caught me by surprise. It didn’t—”
“Finish taking off your top,” I interrupt, voice thick as I gesture toward her cotton PJs.
She shrugs out of her night shirt, and then she’s standing in front of me naked from the waist up. Hell, there’s something so fucking sexy about her vulnerability, and I respond to it in a very visceral way by shoving her to her knees.
“I want your mouth.”
Her mouth on my cock.
Not on his lips.
She works the button of my pants free, pulls down the zipper, and takes my cock in her hand. I’ve never been so ready to come down a woman’s throat, so achy and hard as her fingers curl around me. I grab her by the back of her head and fist her thick locks so she can’t back away.
“I need you so damn much, Jules. This might be quick, but it won’t be gentle.”
“It’s ok—”
I silence her acceptance with my cock, groaning as those tempting lips close around the tip. Even though I’m controlling the movement of her mouth—the depth of my thrusts, the speed—she’s literally got me by the balls. Her fingernails are a light scrape against my sack with each slide of her mouth, from head to base.
“You’re so goddamn sexy.”
She welcomes my thrusts with fervor, even the ones that hit the back of her throat, but I can’t help but wonder if she’s sucking me out of my mind due to guilt. Did she feel something when she kissed him? Is she thinking about him right now, wishing he were here instead of me?
“Open your eyes,” I command, not liking how she’s shutting me out.
Her gaze collides with mine, and God there’s that decadent stare again, like smooth chocolate inviting me in, tempting me to drown in sin.
“You’re wrecking me right now.”
She moans around my cock, and I’m pretty damn sure she’s enjoying the task, but I still can’t get the idea out of my head that she’s got him on her mind.
“I want to murder him.”
She tries edging back, but I won’t let her. For a few seconds we both pant—her through her nose, and me through the space between my lips because I can already taste her on my tongue.
The spice of her desperation.
The sweetness of her apology.
The satisfying flavor of her choice.
“Choose me, Jules. I know my life is one big fuck-up, but I need you more than he does. I want you more than he ever will.”
Because there’s no way I’d let her run halfway across the country without me right on her heels.
Her eyes glisten as if finding a hidden meaning in my words. She digs her fingers into my ass, pulling me closer as her long lashes flutter against fair cheeks. Taking in a sharp breath through her nose, she works me deep enough to gag.
Hell, she’s working me toward complete and utter destruction.
My knees shake under the strength of her skill, and my mind finds nirvana, a blessed void where only the suction of her mouth exists. I want it to last forever. Every noisy slurp, every whirl of her tongue.
“Jules,” I groan, about to come harder than I’ve ever come in my fucking life.
She gags again, and I release all that I am into her beautiful, busy mouth. Her throat works overtime to swallow my load, and afterward, I reach for my tie because I’m just getting warmed up.