I grab at his hair, directing his mouth and I roll my hips to spur him on. His tongue pushes inside me and it’s the mostincredible feeling. I arch my back, I lay myself flat against the desk and lose myself as he eats me out.
“Make your Queen come.” I gasp. “Show her how sorry you really are.”
He groans, his hands tightening around my thighs, and I delight in the knowledge that the bruising he’s inflicting on my flesh will stay there for days after.
My orgasm hits me like a tsunami.
Wave after wave of ecstasy punctuates through my body and I scream out, riding Preston’s mouth, needing more, needing him.
It feels like the first time, it feels like that desperate first climax when I was half petrified of him and yet already falling stupidly in love with those piercing blue eyes, with that chiselled jaw, with him, my husband.
“Preston,” It sounds like a battle cry. It sounds like a prayer.
I don’t care if they all hear me, if everyone in this building hears me fall apart.
He lifts himself up, pulls my body and manoeuvres himself so that he’s above me, and, as he drags his cock out, he fixes those devastating eyes on me.
“You let me back in, Ruby, you let me fuck you again and that’s it. No going back, no divorce, no freedom…”
I snarl, grabbing his throat. My hands might be small but the feeling of dominance doesn’t escape me as I squeeze just a little.
“You think I’m playing games?” I say back. “I already told you what I wanted. You’re mine, Preston. Just as I am yours. I’m not looking for freedom, I’m not looking for a quick fuck.”
He draws himself up, his mouth twisting into that familiar smirk.
“Is that so, wife?” He says, before crashing his lips into mine in a devastating kiss.
I moan, twisting my tongue, letting him ravish my mouth, and as he does he pushes himself inside me.
“Oh god,” I gasp. It’s been too long. It’s been what feels like forever.
Within seconds we both go into a frenzy.
I tear at his shirt, almost rip the buttons off with the need to see him, to feel him.
One of his hands twists in my hair, wrenching my head back as he peppers my neck with kisses.
His thumb finds my clit and he begins circling, almost torturing me with his touch, while he’s slamming into my pussy.
“Ruby,” He groans, “It’s so good, you’re so fucking good.”
“Come in me,” I gasp. “Come in your wife, and prove your love.”
I don’t know if it’s my words or the fact that he’s close but he bites down onto my shoulder, bites hard enough that I yelp, and then he’s coming, pouring himself into me.
For a moment we both lay there, him still on top, still buried to the hilt.
“Don’t…” I say, as he starts to slide off me but he fixes me with a look.
“They’re waiting.” He states.
For some reason I find that thought amusing. That they’re all stood around, these powerful men, waiting on me.
“Fine,” I mutter, more to myself.
Preston rearranges his clothes then offers his hand for me to take. Thankfully my dress isn’t crumpled but I run my hands down it all the same, smoothing the cool fabric.
“Shall we?” I say, like I had this all planned out.