Page 137 of The Perfect Wrong

“Stay with me, beautiful. We’re not close to done. Let’s find out if this little bed can take it without breaking. Can’t believe your old man doesn’t get you anything bigger.”

Is he serious?

He has a point in his own wicked way.

The bed isn’t much—a pretty mediocre double that feels cramped with his massive bulk sharing it—and it squeaks like a field mouse every time his weight sinks down.

Before I can protest, Chris covers my mouth, making me feel the marks I left behind on his palm.

“We’ll try to stay quiet,” he whispers, his breath steaming against my ear. “We’lltry.Only, I’m giving fewer fucks by the second about keeping this a secret. Not nearly as much as I care about making you sing, Cordelia.”

Yep. He’s officially lost it.

Doesn’t he get that wecan’tlet anyone hear?

But he’s right about one thing—I can’t bring myself to care when he mounts me from behind, slamming his cock into me in a single determined jerk.

This isn’t like our last night in Vegas where every round was frantic, so hot but so rushed. We were trying to cram a whole lifetime of sex into less than a week.

But now that we’re doing it again, now that we have a little more time...

He starts thrusting slow, but hard.

I push my face into the mattress, trying to remember to breathe.

His rhythm rises to full jackhammer in minutes.

Soon, I’m shaking with every powerful stroke.

I can barely hold myself up on my hands and knees, weathering his thrusts.

The fist in my hair helps, pulling harder all the time, grabbing at the roots with this delicate sting while he growls his pleasure.

Another ten strokes and his balls swing up, slapping my clit with this insane pressure that’s made to bring me down.

My eyelids barely flutter shut before I’m catapulted into the zone.

Another climax cuts through me.

I shove my face into the sheet, praying the bedding muffles my scream.

“Delia—fuck!” Chris rumbles behind me, his wall of muscle hardening.

That sends me spiraling faster, harder, dropping me headfirst into delirium.

I’ve left this world, bound for nirvana.

We come together so beautifully I’m tearing up by the end.

The bed creaks like it’s on rails, so loud it should scare me, if only I could still worry about anything through this mad mating heat.

We rut like animals, drunk on the pleasure erupting through us.

His cock swells, plunges deep, and floods my emptiness.

Ropes of hot come hurl to my depths, and my pussy tightens, greedily drawing it all in.

God.

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