Page 121 of Stolen Vows

A strangled groan escapes his throat, like my words caused him physical pain. He presses his forehead to my inner thigh, turning and dragging his teeth over my sensitive skin. He looks up at me from underneath his lashes, eyes blazing. “Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me, Francesca. How badly I want to keep you just like this. Stuffed full of my come. Dripping with it.”

His words send a shockwave of desire rippling through me, my overstimulated body clenching around his fingers still buried inside me. “Please,” I whimper, not even sure what I’m begging for. “Graham.”

“I know, sunshine.” He kisses me again, deep and claiming, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as his fingers slip from me to smooth over my hips, stroking me softly.

“One more, sunshine, okay? You can give your husband one more orgasm, can’t you?”

I’m nodding too fast, preening under his praise and attention.

He grins and it’s devastating and carnal. I wish I could memorize this image of him forever.

He grips my thighs firmly, fingers sinking into my soft flesh as he presses my legs together. I can feel the heat radiating off his body as he leans over me, his breath hot against my neck. He angles my hips upward, pushing my knees toward my chest until I’m folded nearly in half, completely exposed and open to him again.

I gasp as I feel the hard length of his cock sliding between my slick folds, coating himself in my wetness. The swollen head of his dick bumps against my sensitive clit with each pass.

Then he adjusts himself, repositioning himself until his cock slides through the tight space between my thighs.

Oh. “Oh.”

This is kind of like that scene that I highlighted in my book the other day. My toes curl at the realization, pleasure fizzing through my veins.

Graham starts thrusting, his hips rocking against mine as he fucks the tight channel of my thighs. The underside of his thick cock rubs deliciously against me with each stroke. The barbell of his piercing a bright cool touch. Sparks of pleasure shoot through me, making me tremble and clench.

“That’s it, sunshine,” he rasps, his voice low and rough with desire. “Squeeze those pretty thighs together for me. Nice and tight, just for me.”

I moan, my head falling back against the pillow as my eyes drift closed. It feels incredible. Jesus, I didn’t thinkthiswould feel so good. He’s barely even touching my clit, and he’s not even inside of me.

How can it feel this incredible?

Maybe it’s just him. Maybe everything with my husband feels better.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises gruffly, picking up speed. He fucks my thighs harder, faster, chasing his pleasure.

I’m lost to the feel of him. His weight pressing me into the mattress, his labored breathing in my ear, the way he keeps nudging my clit.

I whimper and nod, my breath coming in shallow pants as I try to keep still for him. It’s torture, feeling him so close to where I’m aching for him, but not quite getting what I need.

His thrusts grow more urgent, his cock sliding faster between my slick thighs. The friction is maddening, stoking the fire building inside me with each stroke. I’m so close, teetering on the edge of release. My body is wound tight, every nerve ending crackling with need.

“Please,” I whimper, my voice breaking. “I need?—”

“I know what you need, sunshine,” he growls. “Be patient for me. I’ll take care of you.”

“Okay.” I nod, my back arching off the bed.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he grits out, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “I’m going to come. I’m going to fill up my wife’s pretty cunt.”

A needy whimper escapes my throat at his words, my body clenching in anticipation of another orgasm. “Please,” I beg, not even sure what I’m pleading for anymore. I just know I need him, all of him, any way I can have him.

With a low growl, Graham pulls free from my thighs and notches the swollen head of his cock at my entrance. He thrusts inside of me once, twice, three times. And then he comes.

I stare up at him in awe as his release crashes over him. He looks like some ancient Greek god carved from marble come to life.

My husband.

God, just those two words get me kind of worked up. The fact that I get to call this man mine turns me on. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this view.

His muscles clenching and flexing beneath his golden skin. Hair wild and windblown from my fingers tangled up and tugging all night. Eyes squeezed shut, long lashes fanning shadows across his chiseled cheekbones.

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