Page 104 of Beloved Beauty

She leans over, her fingers sliding under the hem of my shirt. “I see you now.” Her eyes spark. “And what I see makes me want to sin.”

“We’re married. Pretty sure it doesn’t count as sinning.”

She grins. “We can pretend it is. I want to do very dirty things to you.”

She starts shimmying out of her clothes, pulling it over her head with such determination she nearly elbows herself in the face.

“Whoa there, cyclone,” I say, sitting up a little, watching her with barely contained laughter. “That top’s not going down without a fight.”

“Shh,” she mutters, head popping through the neck hole, hair wild and tangled. “Let me seduce you in peace.”

I bite back a grin.

After a brief but valiant battle with her jeans—one she barely won—she’s finally naked and crawling over me, all warm skin and wicked smiles as she straddles my hips.

“You’re sore and aching,” she says, pressing her palms to my chest. “So lie back. I’ve got this covered.”

She tugs my shirt over my head and her fingers hook into my shorts, wiggling them down.

“Feels a little wrong,” I say, hands skimming up her thighs. “Taking advantage of my wife while she’s drunk.”

“Impossible,” she says, leaning in until her mouth grazes mine. “I always want you. Especially when I’m drunk.”

She starts slow—fingers drifting like they’ve got all night to get where they’re going. Her mouth trails warm, deliberate kisses down my chest, her breath a tease that dances over skin still buzzing from her touch.

There’s a confidence to her tonight—soft and playful––but sharp as a blade. Like she knows what she’s doing to me and she’s enjoying every second.

And I’m letting her. Willingly. Desperately.

I’d let her do anything to me.

She sits back enough to study me, her eyes dark with mischief. Then she dips her head again, her tongue tracing the line of my abs as she maps the territory before claiming it.

“Jesus, favorite,” I say, aching to be inside her.

She grins without looking up, acting innocent. “Hmm?”

My laugh is low, caught somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. But it cuts off fast—transforms into a groan that punches out of me when her mouth finds its mark.

She takes my cock into her mouth and moves slowly in a way that says she’s not here to please me but to ruin me. Every bob of her head and movement of her mouth is precise and unhurried.

Her hands slide up my thighs, palms dragging, and my legs twitch beneath her grip. I swear under my breath, hips stuttering forward in a motion I can’t control. She doesn’t flinch, just hums low in her throat, a soft vibration that coils through me.

My fingers fist the sheet beside me, jaw clenched tight as I fight the pull. But it’s useless. She’s got me. Completely. Every graze of her mouth sends me spiraling closer to the edge, and she knows it—savors it. She eases back just enough to breathe me in, tongue flicking over the crown of my cock in a way that makes my vision go black at the edges.

And the worst part? The best part?

She’s not even trying to finish me. She’s playing. Exploring. Enjoying the slow unraveling of a man who usually has all the control. But tonight, she’s stripped it right out from under me with nothing but her mouth and a wicked little smile.

Her nails skim the inside of my thigh, and I bite down on a groan, my whole body taut, held together by threads. One more pass. One more breath. I’m?—

But then she pulls back, eyes blazing, lips swollen, face flushed with heat and power and something else entirely. She lets go with a soft, wet sound and glances up, her eyes burning. Her fingers curl around my hips, keeping me there.

She moves up my body with a kind of grace that shouldn’t be possible when you’re tipsy and naked, but somehow, Magnolia makes it feel like poetry.

Her thighs frame my hips as she straddles me again, the warmth of her skin brushing mine in all the places that matter. She kisses my neck, my jaw, then my mouth—slow and deep.

And then—she takes me in.

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