Page 13 of Pucking Curves

“Wren, baby, if we rush out and get an annulment now, it’ll do more harm than good,” I murmur, stroking her cheek. Trying not to grind against her again. Goddamn. Her pussy is right there. Wet. Perfect.Mine.

I bite my tongue, fighting a growl.

“How have you possibly drawn that conclusion?”

I latch onto the only thing that comes to mind. “Britney Spears.”

She cracks a smile.

“I’m serious.” No, I’m not. I’m making this shit up as I go, desperately trying to convince the woman I breathe for not to leave me before she even gives me a chance. “No one gave a shit that she got married in Vegas. It happens all the time. They cared that she got married and then annulled the marriage within days. That was the big story. We need to wait it out.”

“For how long?” The reluctance written all over her face is goddamn deadly.

Permanently.

“So eager to get rid of me?” I ask, trying to pretend the thought doesn’t bother the fuck out of me. It does, though. Last night, she told me she’d been wanting to kiss me forever. Now, she can’t wait to be rid of me. I refuse to believe she just wanted to fuck.

Wren isn’t a puck bunny. She hasn’t dated anyone in the year I’ve known her. Hell, she hasn’t even looked at a man in the last year. Her eyes are always on me. I know damn well that’s because she feels something for me.

“Eager not to ruin your friendship, Archer,” she says quietly, worry written all over her face. “Micah is going to kill you.”

So that’s it. The sole reason she’s so fucking scared right now. It’s her brother. And of course she isn’t worried about her relationship with him…she’s worried about mine. Because that’s the thing with her. Hell, maybe it’s the thing with both of us. We put everyone else first, all the goddamn time. We worry about everyone else first.

Isn’t that why I’ve hesitated for so fucking long? Because of Micah? Because of the team? Because everyone else’s needs came before mine? It’s what I’m supposed to do as their captain—put their needs first. But goddamn, I hate knowing she’s doing the same thing—prioritizing my friendship with him above what she really wants.

“Let me worry about Micah, wife.”

She whimpers softly, and I realize that, despite all her worries and objections, she likes that title. She likes knowing she’s mine. And she likes hearing me say it.

Fuck. With the evidence right in front of me, I can’t help myself. I attack her mouth like the unruly beast I am.

She doesn’t stop me. She doesn’t tell me no. She just whimpers again, clinging to me. Kissing me back like she’s going to die if my taste isn’t in her system right now.

I know damn well that I should stop this before it goes too far and gives her something else to regret, but I fucking don’t. She’s beneath me, squirming and writhing, soft and pliant, warm…

I grind my cock against her hot little pussy again, kissing a trail down her body. She’s so damn soft. So beautiful.

“Archer!” she sobs, her back bowing from the bed when I wrap my lips around one hard nipple through her shirt again.

“Shh. Let me just have a taste,” I murmur, already pushing her shirt up her body. “Just one taste…” Goddamn, she’s beautiful. Her alabaster skin quivers beneath my palms. Her full breasts beg for my mouth. Those wet little panties demand attention.

I groan, pushing her breasts together. My mouth descends on one, dragging her nipple through my teeth.

She sobs my name, her hands flying to my hair again. She isn’t gentle as she pulls. My balls cinch up tight, loving every second of the pain.

I move to her other breast, biting down.

“You’re going to make me come!” she cries.

Ah, hell. My wife is so fucking horny.

“Not yet, Wren. Not fucking yet.” I drag my lips down her round belly. Dip my tongue into her belly button.

She sobs beneath me.

My fingers hook into the sides of her panties, tugging them down. Her pretty little mound appears, bare, her lips wet with her juices. I tug the fabric down lower, breathing her in. She’s sweet and tangy.

My mouth waters.

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