Page 28 of Accidentally Marrying the Prisoner
Kneeling between my spread knees, he cups his right palm beneath my chin and says, “Spit it out.”
Gladly.
Oops, spoke too soon.
I should’ve seen it coming, but I’m too late to stop him from feeding his sticky, cum coated fingers into my pussy.
“Dammit, Conrad!” I yell, though my eyes roll back in my head, my hips swiveling as he pumps in and out of me while tonguing my clit. “Why did you do that?” I flex my hips, urging him to push his fingers deeper. “Are youtryingto get me pregnant?” I ask breathily with a long, drawn-out moan.
He doesn’t answer because he’s too busy alternating between massaging my clit with the tip of his tongue and suctioning his lips around it. I’m too busy to care as I concentrate on the heat that’s building in my core, my pussy deliciously sore as he finger fucks me harder, trying to find the magical spot within me that makes my head spin.
With my hands on the backs of my thighs, I lift my knees toward my shoulders, changing the angle enough that he finally finds his target.
“Conrad, oh god, yes!” I pant for him, my eyes rolled back in my head with the intense pleasure.
“That’s it. Cum for me like a good girl,” he says with a low growl that makes me shiver.
Another two pumps of his fingers and his praise aboutwhat a good princess I am for himis all it takes for me to go hurtling into bliss, colors flashing behind my eyelids.
“That was amazing,” I say, trying to catch my breath when I let my legs drop.
“Mmhmm,” Conrad says. “You’re amazing.” He turns his cheek to kiss my inner thigh, murmuring that I’mhis princessandsuch a good girl and the best wife.
As the aftershocks of pleasure fade, my heart drops, now that I’m back in my right mind. I push his head away, then climb out of the car with my keys, somehow managing not to collapse with my legs so unsteady. Tugging the hem of my dress down, I round the car to Conrad’s side.
“Did my mom put you up to this?” I ask, tipping my head all the way back when Conrad stands.
“Put me up to going down on you in the parking lot?” His chuckle is deep and oh so sexy, and he wipes his mouth, then circles my waist, his lips hovering over mine. “No. That was my—well, your—idea.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” I sniffle and push him away when he turns his head and kisses the edge of my jaw instead. “I thought we agreed—no babies with randomly assigned spouses.”
“You’re not so random anymore, princess,” Conrad says, suddenly dropping to push his shoulder into my hips, lifting me in a fireman’s carry as he takes the stairs two at a time to our apartment.
“Doesn’t matter!” I yell to his back, slapping his firm butt, then squeezing it to apologize for slapping it, then slapping it again because I’m miffed at myself for even having the urge toapologize. “I’m not having kids with someone I’ve just met and who’s going to disappear in three years.”
“See, now I’ve been thinking…this whole three-years thing?—”
The world turns topsy-turvy when Conrad drops me to my feet on the landing, and I do a double-take after seeing who’s sitting on my wicker couch. With surprise tinged with annoyance, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
CHAPTER
TEN
CONRAD
Great, just what Mirabeth needs. More people expecting to chit-chat. Or more specifically,herof all people.
Alisa stands from the couch, having sat there and waited for who knows how long, interrupting the pressing conversation I need to have with Mirabeth. Even better—not—she’s shown up in a silky, black robe, the belt knotted tight at her waist, wearing slippers that I’m pretty sure I once gifted her.
“I need to talk to you,” Alisa says to me, chewing the inside of her cheek.
Mirabeth says low with agitation, “I’m going to bed. I’ll leave you two to it.”
I snag Mirabeth’s elbow when she tries to leave, pulling her into my side. “So talk,” I tell Alisa. Anything she needs to say to me can be said in front of my wife. Anything thatcan’tbe said in front of my wife, I don’t want to hear.
Alisa darts her eyes to the side when one of our neighbors trudges up the stairs. “Can we go inside?”
“I guess,” Mirabeth mutters. This exhausted impatience is a new side of her, and it’s wholly understandable, given how farI’ve pushed her; how many people I’ve introduced her to in the short time we’ve known each other; and also the fact that my ex-fiancée has shown up to our apartment in the middle of the night, half-dressed.
