Page 91 of Marry Lies
He hisses as he exhales, and his heart hammers underneath my hands as I get a subtle whiff of green apples.
“Fuck,” he rasps. One of his hands comes to my butterfly tattoo, and he traces the outline, eyes blazing with need. “I hope you know that this tattoo is so fucking sexy.”
I roll my hips on top of him, and he squeezes my arse appreciatively. It sends a wave of pleasure skittering down my spine.
“Yes,” I cry out, not daring to take my eyes off him. There’s a dark, smoldering flame in his eyes as he watches me, and it startles me for a second. He’s so…intense.Thisis intense. I take a deep breath and slow down, wanting to watch every emotion and reaction play across his features in real time. I reach down for his hands, lacing my fingers through his, gripping him tightly.
“Estelle,” Miles says, his voice hoarse. His hands squeeze mine as his jaw tightens. “I want you to come for me.”
I nod, working my hips in small circles to get the friction I need. Holding hands with him as I ride him feels so intimate.
Thisisintimate. You’remarriedto him.
The thought makes me groan as I arch my back slightly. I am so full, so complete here with him. Like somehow, watching him unravel before me somehow ties us together officially. A delicate thread begins to form between us. Even though my instincts are telling me to close my eyes and throw my head back, I can’t look away from him.
From the way his jaw feathers with each snap of my hips.
The way his hands squeeze mine, encouraging me to keep going. The darkened pupils of his green eyes. The way his nostrils are flaring—like he’s holding back slightly.
Small whimpers escape my mouth. I’m on fire. The feel of him sliding in and out of me—it’s glorious, sensual, and everything I never knew I needed.
“Estelle,” he murmurs again, bending forward to kiss me. I stop moving to kiss him back, but he growls and bucks his hips up into me. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
I groan as I work my hips faster, harder, meeting every one of his thrusts. “I’m close,” I tell him.
He moves my right hand, that’s still laced with his, and presses it on my lower abdomen. “Play with yourself. Let me watch as you fall apart.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. As I grind against him, I use my hand to rub my clit.
“Fuck, Miles, I’m…”
Everything pulls tight, but I keep my eyes open, watching him as my orgasm crests. His mouth drops open, and the dark, ferventneedwritten all over his face sends me over the edge. My whole body convulses on top of him, my thighs squeezing his hips as I scream his name over and over. A maelstrom of sensation explodes through me over and over. I stop moving, going boneless, and he drives up into me. My toes curl against the leather of the couch, and I have to actively work to keep my eyes open.
Watching him as he watches me.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he mutters as my climax slows. His thrusts get harder, deeper. My forehead presses against his as his hips start to jerk erratically. “I could watch you forever.” He pants against my face. “I fucking love—” A groan escapes his lips, coming from somewhere deep in his chest.
I bring my hands to the sides of his face, pulling back slightly and watching him as he breaks apart underneath me. Face slackening, his eyes cloud over as his hips still and he lets out a low, sensual moan as he comes, hands squeezing my hips tightly with each pulse of his cock inside of me. My eyes don’t leave his face as he sighs contentedly, cheeks pink from the exertion.
“Fuck, wife,” he growls, tugging my body into his as he holds me.
We stay that way for at least a minute, heaving chests, steadying breaths, coming down from something I never expected to be so intense. My cheek rests on his shoulder as his hands trail up my lower back, rubbing me there softly. It reminds me so much of the nights he spent in bed with me when I was having one of my episodes…
I’m falling for him.
Throat constricting, I pull away and look down at him. “Miles…”
One of his hands cups the side of my face. “I know.” He swallows once. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He helps me off him, and I’m grateful for the low lighting. I’m sure we both look a right mess—from earlier, when he fingered me, to now, with his seed dripping down my thighs. I’m just about to ignore it when Miles drops to his knees. I gasp when he knocks my knees apart.
“I need to memorize how my wife looks with my cum dripping out of her cunt,” he says, looking up at me from his knees as his hands run up the inside of my thighs.
I smirk, running a hand through his hair. “Take a picture.”
He pauses. “Can I?”
I laugh. “We’re married, Miles. You’ll hardly be the first husband to have a picture of his wife’s fanny.”
