Page 188 of The Unwilling Bride
I shiver. Heat surges under my skin. The feel of his hand around my throat is like a lit match to the gasoline that my blood has turned into. My vision tunnels. My core tightens.
I’m so turned on that when he begins to dry fuck me against the door, pushing up and into me, again and again, rubbing that thick column of his cock through our clothes and up against my pussy lips, I feel like I’m going to explode.
It’s embarrassing how little friction I need to get this turned on. My thighs quiver. The tightness in my lower belly spirals up my spine.
He doubles up on the speed and slides his hand down to my butt. He squeezes it, then angles his body enough to deepen his strokes. Long, smooth, sliding up against my pussy, hitting my clit over and over again, until my entire body shudders
When my eyelids flutter down, he nips on my mouth. "Eyes on me."
I stare into those mesmerizing blue irises as the orgasm holds me in thrall.
That’s when he loosens his hold on my throat. I suck oxygen into my lungs. It fans the flames of my climax. The orgasm crashes over me. I open my mouth on a silent scream, and my climax flings me over the edge.
It’s the most intimate experience of my life, despite the location.
When I slump against him, he rubs his crotch gently against my very sensitized core. I shudder.
One side of his lips quirks. The expression on his face is tender. More open than I’ve ever seen before.
He kisses my forehead tenderly. Then the tip of my nose. Then brushes his lips over mine. He nips on my chin; I moan and stretch myneck to give him better access. He nibbles his way down my throat, to the neckline of my chef whites.
That’s when there’s a knock on the door. "Chef? Harper? Are you guys okay?"
I stiffen. Mark’s voice. He must be wondering where we are. I lower my feet to the ground. James continues to have his arms around me. He doesn’t let go.
"Harper?" he calls out. "Is Chef okay?"
"I’m good," James calls out. "Just finalizing a contingency plan for the rest of the day."
There’s a pause.
"See you guys out here." It’s followed by silence.
"Contingency plan?" I frown.
At some point, my skull cap must have fallen off, and my hair has come loose from its bun. He tucks a strand behind my ear, and nods.
"We’re going home."
"Home?" I stare at him in shock. "It’s the middle of a working day."
"And I want to fuck my wife."
"Oh."
"Oh, indeed." He smirks.
A flush crawls up my neck. Not because I’m embarrassed… Nah, I’m not embarrassed that the man I have fucked many times in my dreams wants to actually fuck me.
I slide out from between him and the door, and this time he allows me. I don’t want him to see just how overwhelmed I am. I gather my hair into a messy bun, look around for my hair tie on the floor, but can’t see it. I sigh, letting my hair flow down to my shoulders again. "We can’t leave. What if today’s the day the Michelin inspectors decide to come on a visit?"
"Fuck the Michelin inspectors."
I whip my head in his direction. "Did you just say?—"
"Yeah. Fuck them. I want to be with you. I want to be inside of you. I need to feel my wife’s pussy milk my dick as I consummate our marriage."
This time, I am embarrassed. "You can’t." I cough. "You can’t say those things out loud; someone might hear you."
