Page 16 of Six Month Wife
“Fuck,” I mutter, head falling back against the massage table. “You feel so good.”
She smirks against my jaw and starts stroking me. Her teasing, torturous strokes pull the breath straight from my lungs. My hands fist the sheet.
She leans down and bites gently at my neck, her teeth grazing enough to make me twitch under her control. My cock jerks in her hand.
“Damn,” I breathe. “You do know how to take care of your clients.”
“VIP service.” Her voice is low and sultry. “I reserve this for only the most important clients.”
I maneuver my hand under her shirt, fingertips brushing bare skin. She doesn’t stop me. She lifts her arms.
I pull it over her head in one fluid motion, dropping it to the floor.
And holy hell. She isn't wearing a bra.
Her nipples are already hard, begging for my mouth. I don’t even try to resist.
I sit up slightly, catching one between my lips, flicking my tongue as my hands cup her ass. She moans. The sound that comes from deep inside of her is unfiltered as her body grinds against the table.
I reach around and touch her between her legs. She’swet. Heat pulses through her leggings, straight to my finger.
I switch breasts, tugging her tighter, kissing lower, rougher. Her fingers glide through my hair, and she holds me there like she needs this to breathe.
“Fuck, Dr. Matthews,” she whispers. It’s the first time she’s said my name like that, raw and wanting. It hits somewhere deep. "I take it back. Your bedside manner is off the charts."
Her hips roll forward, and I push my leg out, my thigh pushing against her. I grab her by the waist, and my fingers hungrily grab the waistband of her leggings as I sit up.
She breathes out sharply as I start to tug them down. I can't get far from this angle.
“Let me,” she murmurs, stepping back enough to peel them off and kick them aside.
Then she’s in front of me again, bare-legged, panting, and dangerous in nothing but a tiny scrap of lace.
She hops up on top of me and straddles me, and like that, I’m gone.
She starts grinding against me slowly, teasing both of us, only the thin barrier of her underwear separating us. I’m so hard I could snap.
“Jesus,” I groan. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She drags her teeth across her bottom lip. “You don’t look like you’re complaining.”
“I’m not. Just, fuck, you're incredible.”
I wrap my arms around her and let my hands roam her back and sides, learning every inch like I’m trying to memorize her. Because I am.
This isn’t lust. It’s hot, and reckless, and magnificent.
I don't want to hold back. I want to dive into her, devour her.
“God,” I murmur against her throat, “like Miami…”
Her hips stall.
Shit.
The moment the words leave my mouth, her body freezes. Not all the way, enough to register the shift. Her breath stutters.
“Wait.” Her voice is tight, uncertain. “Miami?”
