Chapter 18

“You’re going to kiss me again, aren’t you?” I whisper.

His mouth opens. I lick my lips as my heart hammers.

“Thinking about it.”

“But I don’t want this to just be some distraction.”

His fingers brush against the nape of my neck. “Elena, you’re already a distraction. But this is because I want to.”

Then he comes toward me, and I meet him halfway, because I want it too. It’s slow at first, gentle, probing, until it’s not anymore, and his tongue is in my mouth and I’m in his lap, straddling him, how the hell did I get in his lap? And he’s so freaking hard between my legs and his hands grip my ass as I kiss him, so greedy for what he can give me, needing it more than I even realized, and this time I can’t stop, and he doesn’t seem to want to stop either.

“Brody,” I moan as he kisses my neck and pulls off my top. My lips are swollen and I can still taste him.

His eyes stare at my breasts barely covered by a black lacy bra. “Beautiful,” he murmurs and kisses my chest, up my neck, crushes my mouth again.

I moan into him. I grind my hips, feeling him stiffen even more.

“What happened to holding back?” I whisper, panting, forehead against his, because if we don’t stop right now, I know I’m going to keep on going and going and going.

“You need this,” he says, his fingers lacing into my hair, his other hand firm on my ass. “I need this.”

“You’re not just trying to distract me?”

“Wife, at this point, I have no coherent thoughts in my head, except for how I can taste you.”

I shiver, grinning. “I like that.”

“Good. I’m fucking overwhelmed by you.” His hand grips my hair harder. “All your fucking questions. The way you bounce around the room and can’t sit still.”

“You hate it.”

“I fucking love it, and it drives me crazy.” He bites my lower lip. “I want you to be quiet for ten fucking minutes while I get you off. Is that so much to ask?”

I suck in an excited breath. “Just ten minutes?”

His jaw clenches and his eyes burn with need and frustration. “It was just a goddamn number. Are you going to quit talking now?”

“Shut me up then.”

And he does. He kisses me and turns me around, and his hands start undressing me, and he doesn’t relent. It’s a full-on attack, a force of nature, and it feels so fucking good to be held down and stripped as his mouth does its filthy work kissing my lips, my neck, my breasts. He sucks each nipple, praising my body endlessly, talking for the both of us, and I swear it’s the most he’s ever said to me.

“So fucking wet,” he purrs as one hand glides between my legs. Pleasure bursts in my core. “Look at you, all messy and needy. You’re going to let me lick your little clit until you scream my name, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, Brody, I didn’t know you could talk this much.”

“When it comes to explaining exactly how I want to pleasure your incredible fucking body, I’m a goddamn poet.”

My back arches and I moan as he peels off my panties. I wish I had a snarky comeback, but my brain’s very much gone, replaced by a pulsing ache, one which only he can soothe.

And my god, does my husband give me what I want.

His fingers first. They tease my pussy, gliding up and down my lips. He licks my breasts and nipples before plunging his fingers deep inside. His mouth finds mine and I moan into his lips as he fucks me with his fingers like that.

“Your fucking noises taste like heaven,” he whispers, pulling my hair. I gasp, panting, grinding my hips. “But don’t come yet.”

“Like I can control it,” I moan, and he stops, which makes me whine. He only smirks and spreads my legs and starts kissing my inner thigh⁠—

And I’m happy that he has a little control.

His mouth feels even better than his fingers. I’m glowing with pleasure, my back arching, my muscles contracting. His tongue laps at my clit and he sucks it gently as his fingers glide deep inside of me. He sucks, licks, makes these absolutely filthy and heavenly noises as he goes down on me, and I come like my life is about to end on his obscene face.

Which he seems to enjoy. He licks me up and sucks his fingers clean when he’s all done, and I’m a drooling mess of pleasure endorphins.

“That’s my good girl,” he says, kissing me, holding me tight against him. I’m aware of how hard he is like an iron bar jutting against my leg. “You needed that, didn’t you? It’s okay, I have you now.”

I curl up into his arms. I’m tempted to offer him a blowjob, but I’m feeling sleepy and comfortable, and he doesn’t seem like he’s taking this any further. I kiss his neck and breathe him in, and I’m shocked when I glance at the clock. It’s been almost forty-five minutes. And I’ve barely said ten words.

This man managed to keep me quiet with nothing but his mouth and his fingers. And that’s no small miracle.

I don’t want to move. It feels too good lying here in Brody’s arms. I know we should get up at some point, but I’m breathing deeply, and the couch isn’t that bad really, and he seems happy enough to keep on holding me.

And at some point, I start to drift.

Only for the sound of a vibrating phone to drag me back into the night. “What the hell,” I mumble, fumbling through my pants.

“You okay?” Brody asks, half asleep.

I sit up and raise the screen. Adrenaline dumps into my veins. It’s after three in the morning—which means I fell asleep for a few hours in Brody’s arms—and Simon’s calling.

“What happened?” I say the second I answer.

Simon sounds exhausted. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should’ve waited until morning.”

“Now you have me. What happened, Simon? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Davide’s fine. But—” He takes a deep breath.

“Tell me,” I whisper.

“It’s Matty.”