Page 97 of The Temporary Bride

“Please,” she breathes, her hips shifting toward my mouth.

That’s all I need. I close my mouth over her and start eating her out properly, my tongue working her over, and her sounds shift from soft and restrained to filthy and raw in about thirty seconds.

She doesn’t hold back with me anymore, not like she used to, and I love that. I love that I get this version of her, the one who doesn’t try to manage her reactions or stay quiet. Her thighs tighten against my head, her hips roll toward my mouth, and I take everything she gives me and push for more.

I lick into her pussy, curling my tongue, alternating between fucking her with it and teasing her clit in slow, deliberate strokes, reading every sound and every shift of her body. She tastes incredible. She always does, and I still haven’t gotten my fill of it. I don’t think I ever will.

“Right there,” she gasps, tossing her head. “Don’t stop.”

“I’ve got you,” I say against her, my lips brushing her clit as I speak. “Give it to me.”

She’s close. I can feel it in the way her thighs have started to shake and the way her grip on my hair has gone tight enough to sting.

I slide two fingers inside her as I work her clit with my tongue, curling them forward, and the sound she makes is loud enough that I’d be surprised if anyone left in the building didn’t hear it.

Good. I want them to hear it. I want everyone to know exactly what’s happening in here.

My tongue and fingers work together as I pick up the pace. When I can tell she’s right at the edge, I draw my fingers out and wrap her legs up around my head, pulling her closer, burying my face fully between her thighs.

She locks her legs around me immediately, her thighs clamping against my head, and comes hard, crying out into the empty gym.

“Ah! Ah, Tristan, oh my god!”

I can barely breathe with her thighs locked around my head, but I don’t give a single fuck. I work her through every wave of it, my tongue not letting up, until the last tremor has passed and her legs finally go slack and drop from my shoulders.

I pull back and look up at her, wiping my chin with the back of my hand, and she’s lying there completely wrecked, flushed from her chest to her hairline, her chest rising and falling in long, ragged pulls.

“Beautiful,” I murmur, my voice reverent.

Before she’s had more than a few seconds to recover, I grip her waist and flip her over, positioning her on her hands and knees on the bench. She makes a soft sound of surprise, her arms catching her weight, and then she looks back at me over her shoulder. Her lip is caught between her teeth, her hair falls around her face, and her cheeks are still flushed dark from her orgasm.

I take a moment to just look at her, appreciating a goddamn spectacular view. The curve of her ass, the slick pink of her pussy between her legs, the flush still climbing her throat. This gorgeous woman, on her knees on a weight bench in a gym I bought this morning on what most people would consider a whim.

Fuck, I don’t consider it a whim.

I’d buy ten gyms if it meant she could move through her life without having to brace herself every time she walked into a room.

“My wife.” I drag out the words, running my palm over the curve of her ass. “So beautiful. So filthy.” My thumb traces down through her wet pussy lips, and she shudders. “You have no idea what you do to me. Every single time.”

“Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice shaky and a little wrecked. The sound of it is almost enough to finish me off before I’ve even started. “Please. I need you inside me. God, please, Tristan.”

“You beg so prettily,” I praise in a low voice, my cock straining against my pants. “I can never say no to you when you ask so fucking nicely. You know that.”

I shove my pants down to my thighs, wrap my hand around my cock, and tease her entrance with the tip of it. She rocks her hips back toward me, chasing the contact, and we both groan as I slip a few inches inside her.

“Please,” she repeats, the words coming faster this time, more urgent. “I need you. Please.”

God, I could never resist her. I could never deny her anything.

I keep going, sinking into her with several strokes, filling her deeper each time. When I’m fully seated, I go still, running my hands greedily over the curve of her spine and the globes of her ass.

“This is where your husband’s cock belongs,” I rasp. “Right here. Doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her head dropping forward. “God, yes. Please move.”

I pull back and drive forward, and the force of it makes her ass shake and pulls a cry out of her that echoes off the glass walls. I grip her hips harder and do it again, setting a pace that’s harder and deeper than I’d normally start with. But she’s already come once, and she’s wet enough that she takes every stroke easily, her pussy gripping me like it’s trying to drag me back in every time.

The gym fills with the echo of my hips slapping against hers, the sounds she’s making, the bench creaking as it shifts slightly beneath her. We’re not being quiet, but I don’t care. There’s no one here to hear it…