Page 51 of Her Possessive Dominant Fake Husband

This time when he kissed me, it was gentler, more deliberate, like he was savoring the taste of his victory. And oh, it felt like victory, surrender, and everything in between.

I arched against him, needing more, my mind a fog of urgency and need. The way his hips rocked into me left me delirious and begging for more.

“Are you sure you want this?” His breath was hot against my neck, his voice rough, cautious.

No, my mind said.Yes, my body screamed.Yes, yes, yes.

“Yes,” I said, meaning the word.

I expected him to rush, to take, but instead, he explored, each touch setting me on fire. My shirt was gone, then my pants. His hands found my skin, sending shivers down to my core. I writhed beneath him, letting go of everything but the feel of him, the truth of him.

I tugged at his pants, clumsy, desperate. He helped me, kicking them aside. The sight of him above me, powerful and exposed, made my heart stutter. His lips claimed mine, and his hand moved lower, between my legs, teasing, coaxing.

The first touch had me gasping, arching into, clutching at his shoulders like I’d drown without him.

He slid a finger in me, and the world blurred around the edges. “So wet, good girl,” he growled, pulling his hand back.I let out a whimper, but he returned, slipping two into me. Letting out another whimper, I bit down on my lower lip. His palm pressed to my body, and I bucked against his hand, the sensations exquisite, new, overwhelming.

He was relentless, his mouth on my throat, my breasts, each whisper of contact making me tremble. I didn’t know this side of him, this patient intensity, and it swept me away, filled me until I thought I might burst.

“God, Claire,” he murmured, more to himself than to me, his voice almost a growl. “You’re so…”

He didn’t finish the thought, and I didn’t need him to. The heat in his eyes told me what he wouldn’t say. Not that it mattered, I was beyond hearing, lost in the way he touched me, teased me, brought out feelings and desires I didn’t know I could experience.

And when it all fell apart, he was right there, holding me close. Not leaving. Riding it out with me, demanding I look at him. I did, seeing all the heat and hunger in his eyes. I could see how hard it was for him to hold back, yet here he was, making sure I enjoyed this, enjoyed him. Those weren’t the actions of a businessman, were they?

The pleasure consumed me, swallowing me whole, and when I came back to earth, he was there. His breath hitched as he looked at me, all of me. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way he stared made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

He moved over me, the hard length of him pressing against my core. My breath caught at the size of him, and a sliver of doubt pierced the haze of desire. Did he forget?

“Just relax,” he said, soft but insistent, the edge of command in his voice.

I tried to, but the anticipation, the need was too much. He pushed inside, stretching me, filling me, making me gasp at the hot, sweet sensation of it.

“Fuck, yes.” He growled the words, clearly holding back with effort as if to let my body adjust to him.

I whimpered beneath him, consumed with the sensation of him sliding within me, then holding still a moment, the pleasure. I felt him throbbing inside me, and the reality of it, the realness of it all, made me shudder.

“More,” I begged, surprising myself, surprising him, as his eyes flared with something that might have been shock or admiration or something else entirely.

He moved, deep and sure, and I was lost, utterly, wonderfully lost.

“That’s it,” he said, his breath ragged, kissing me hard. “You feel so… so damn good.”

Each thrust brought stars to the edges of my vision. I clung to him, dug my nails into his back, drew him closer, deeper, a rhythm that I matched, then outpaced with my hips.

I flipped him, surprising us both, and straddled him, took control, rode him like I didn’t care if I broke, as long as it was with him, for him.

“Look at you.” His hands cupped my breasts, his fingers tugging at my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through me. “Taking me. Wanting this. God, Claire.”

His hands gripped my waist, urging me on, faster, and I went. I was reckless, reckless and right, the world tightening and narrowing and exploding in one exquisite release. It was a release that left me shuddering, unable to move, almost frozen in place.

I cried out, his name on my lips, his name on my heart. He rolled us over, pulled all the way out, then buried himself inside me, buried everything but the surety of this moment.

“I want you,” he said, and I didn’t know if it was now, or before, or always, but I believed him. “I’ve wanted you since the beginning.”

My breath shattered in my chest as I came, the sensation flooding me, flooding him, until the world dissolved and rebuilt itself around us.

And in the middle of it all, I knew. I loved him.

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