Page 41 of My One Week Husband
My blood surges, heating as my wife opens the door to her fantasies.
Then she kicks it wide open with a stiletto-heel boot. “And there was nothing ordinary about it. I’d never felt anything like it before. I was dominated. And it was everything. I wanted the roughness. I wanted the pain. He made me feel alive. He made me feel desired. In the previous relationships I’d been in, I’d never felt that way.”
Holy. Fuck.
Scarlett just unspooled her dirty dreams.
In my lap.
She laid them all out for me to see.
I see them. Oh hell, do I ever.
Elodie waves a hand in front of her face. “My God. I think I’m getting turned on just hearing about the two of you together.”
Hazel leans in closer, kisses her neck, and whispers in her ear, “I can help you with that, sweetie.”
“You better.” Elodie gives her wife a kiss, then adds, “And on that note, I think we’re going to have to go back to our room.”
Hazel grabs her drink, swallows it in a down-the-hatch fashion, then clears her throat. “Thank you for getting my wife worked up. We’re heading upstairs.”
Scarlett laughs playfully, then waggles her fingers. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“I’ll do everything you’d do,” Elodie says with a wink, then they scurry away.
Scarlett tosses back the rest of her wine and sets down the glass.
My gaze pins hers. “Let’s do all the things you would do.”
As we walk down the hall to our room, I slide a hand around her waist. “You have a little bit of an exhibitionist in you,” I whisper.
“Apparently, I like it when strangers think we have the hottest sex ever,” she says.
“They don’t have to think it. Because I know it. Because we do.”
She stops, drags her nails down my chest, and grabs the waistband of my trousers. “We do. It’s raw and it’s primal, and my husband can’t get enough of me.”
I growl, desire pounding through my body as Scarlett makes all of her wishes clear. She’s communicating her fantasies. Letting me know she’s never had the kind of sex that she wants. She’s never been worshipped. She’s never been ravaged. I cup her cheeks, gripping her face hard. “You’ve never been fucked good and hard by a man who wants nothing more than to have you.”
“No. I haven’t.”
“That’s about to change.”
We open the door and go inside.
17
Daniel
Inside the room, I pounce. I grab her wrists, pinning them above her head.
She trembles, her body vibrating with need. “Did you do that on the veranda to get me all worked up?” My voice is dark, smoky.
She grins like a siren. “Did it work? Did it get you worked up?”
I slam my hips against her, letting her feel the length of me. “Every second I’ve spent with you today has made me want what I’m about to do to you now.”
“What are you about to do to me now?” She’s breathy, her voice laced with wanton curiosity.
I drag my nose along her neck, inhaling her scent. It drives me mad with lust. She’s wearing the perfume I gave her. When I reach her ear, I draw her lobe between my teeth then nip.
She murmurs, a sign for me to bite harder. I nibble on her earlobe, and she gasps. “The way you smell reminds me that you’re mine,” I whisper.
“Because you gave it to me. Because you want to mark me.”
“You want to be marked.”
She thrusts her hips closer to me, her pelvis seeking me out. I slam my body against her again so she can feel what she’s done to me.
With her arms high above her head, her wrists pinned in my left hand, I drag my stubbled jaw across her face, my kisses trailing over her cheek. I reach her lips, dust a kiss there, then claim her lush mouth, hard and devouring. It’s a kiss that makes my brain hazy, that makes every cell in my body heat up.
I drop her wrists, pull back, and gaze at her lust-struck expression, her glossy eyes. “I know that you want it rough. But the question is, how rough do you want it, love? How hard do you want me to fuck you?”
She swallows, her lips trembling, then she lifts her chin. “I want to feel it tomorrow. I want it to blot out everything I’ve ever felt before. I want it to be the only thing I feel.”
Desire thrums through me. I run the back of my hand down her cheek. “Like I said, my wife is dirty.”
“So dirty,” she whispers, then I claim her lips once more with a ruthless kiss.
I’m not gentle. Not in the least. I devour her mouth, kissing her hungrily. I consume her, tugging her bottom lip with my teeth, making her moan, making her growl. I travel along her neck again, biting as I go. She arches against me, her nails dragging down my back. I listen to her every cue. I slide my hands along her stomach and up over her breasts, reaching for the top button on her blouse.
