Page 114 of The Perfect Wrong

My mouth pulls open, but no sound comes out as my vision blurs.

Fireworks.

Fireworks galore, and they’re all screaming green.

The roughest O of my life shakes me to bits. Eternities condense into minutes and even the walls are throbbing.

Only the steady sensation of cool water striking my back keeps me grounded, standing, together. I’ve turned into so much fragile glass in his hands.

Hurricane Chris owns me, tames me, works me over the way only a man with his carnal knowledge can.

Every touch screamsobsessed—and I’m becoming too addicted.

Shamelessly obsessed.

I don’t even notice when he draws away until I start to come out of the rapture.

Then I feel him behind me, holding my hips, gently making sure I don’t collapse.

There’s the faint tearing of a condom ripping open.

He reaches around for my chin, twists my head, and makes me look at him before he fills me again.

“You, Cordelia Burr, are built to fuck. I’m going to use this every damn day till my balls are drier than the Mojave Desert,” he growls, cupping my mound with a territorial squeeze. “This week, you’re mine completely.Mine.”

Jesus, that word.

That guttural tone.

That jealous spark in his eyes.

As long as I live, I’ll marvel at how good it feels to be his property.

And he knows it, the cruel reminder hidden in the need etched on his face when he pulls my mouth to his.

We kiss with a sticky-sweet passion unlike anything before.

He won’t stop kissing me as he pushes inside me, and not gently like last night.

This morning was made for him and what he loves and I’m more than okay with it.

...he’s made me okay with beingused.

But I enjoy the challenge, too.

I like weathering his fierceness and stabbing thrusts, seeing how much punishment I can take.

Then he finds that spot deep inside me that makes my knees buckle.

“Chris!” I reach for his hand and squeeze until it hurts, digging my nails into his palm.

He makes a rough sound, something between a gasp and a chuckle.

His thrusts quicken, driving the full force of his body into me, making my flesh ripple.

Stroke by stroke, his balls pressed so tight every time he pushes in to the hilt, I’m gone.

Catapulted clean out of my mind.

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