Page 75 of Pick Six
“Months? You only met him a month later.” I give her more of the pressure she’s wanting, watching her in the mirror as she comes undone for me.
“Months. I had to keep seeing you everywhere, and I couldn’t get you out of my head after. Every stupid time.”
The way she stutters her words makes me feel like I’m torturing the confession out of her. Teasing her until she tells me what I need to know.
“And what about later? Did you think of me?”
“When he made me watch games with him sometimes. I tried not to.”
“Why?”
“Because I was married. I tried really hard to be a good wife to him despite everything.” She swallows against another moan.
“You were a good wife, Saint. Fuck, you were a perfect wife. He just didn’t deserve you.” I kiss the side of her throat. “But I need you to be my good girl right now and tell me what I need to know. Okay?”
“Yes.”
“What about when I came over here? All those parties and dinners? You ever think about me then?”
She doesn’t answer, so I slow down my pace and then withdraw my fingers, brushing over her clit on the way, making her buck slightly at the contact.
“Alex…” she whimpers at the loss of me. But my fingers go to her breasts, sliding my thumb and forefinger over the tip, making it glisten with her come before I twist and then lean over to lick it off.
“Fuck,” she mutters softly, her fingers running over my skin as I toy with her.
“Did you ever think of me when you were married?”
“I tried not to. But sometimes…”
“Like when?”
“That party in the spring… I knew… I knew about the cheating then. And you broughther.She was all over you all night. The two of you constantly ducking out to go make out or whatever you were doing. I wanted that. Wanted you. Then you came in to help with dessert and you stepped up behind me and when I turned and backed into you on accident…” she trails off.
I remember it. The way her ass had felt brushing over my cock. The way her eyes had lit up before she hurried off.
“You could feel how hard you made me?” I whisper as I press another kiss to the side of her breast.
“Me? I thought it was her.” Her eyes flutter open, and I can feel them on me through the mirror as I skate my hands over her skin, pausing to kiss and touch every little valley and mountain of her body. I want her like this in my bed every morning, so I can look at her every day when I wake up.
“No. I’d heard the two of you arguing earlier. Heard you tell him you hated him and were going to find a guy and fuck him. I spent all night trying to keep my mouth fucking shut and not offer myself up as tribute.” I grin against the side of her breast before I take her nipple in my mouth and skim my teeth over it.
She gasps, but she doesn’t lose the thread of our conversation. “You were all over her.”
Jealousy seeps into her tone, and I know. I know I’m a fucking bastard for the things it does to me to know she was jealous over me even then, but I love it.
“Trying to distract myself and not say anything to you. Except then I found you in the kitchen, fixing all of those desserts, all pissed off but still trying to be the good hostess. I wanted to drag you outside and tell you to blow off the fucking party and come ride my cock for as long as you wanted. Get your anger out on me while I made you come. If you had said anything… fuck if you had looked at me a little longer the way you did in that kitchen, I would have pinned you up against those cabinets.”
“I wish you would have.”
“I can now.” I slide my tongue over the tip of her nipple again before I stand back up to my full height. “Take those panties off and bend over this counter. You’re gonna watch me fuck you like I should have back then.”
FORTY
Harper
I slidemy panties off and lean over like he tells me to, glancing up at him in the mirror as he watches me. The way his eyes eat me up, sliding over every inch of me like I’m theonlything he can see makes me feel like I can believe the things he says to me. The way he praises me and tells me I’m beautiful. And like he has the ability to hear my thoughts he smiles, and his eyes meet mine in the mirror.
“You’re fucking perfect, Saint. So—fucking—perfect I can barely stand it.”
