Page 62 of Breakaway Bet

“Dinner was fun. I never thought I’d have fun just hanging at home with my wife,” he murmurs.

I look up at him, and it feels like I’m temporarily blinded by him. He’s so damn attractive that it’s like looking at something too bright for too long.

“That’s because you’ve never been married to me before,” I tease.

“Guess I got lucky.” His eyes flick to my lips, and when they flick back to mine, something changes. The air is charged with electricity, and then his mouth falls down to mine.

It’s a soft kiss, tender, and all I want is more. I deepen it, wrapping my arms around him and opening my mouth to his.

We kiss there for a minute or an hour, I’m not really sure. Time seems to come to a standstill as it turns into a make-out session. His hands move along my torso, and I’m waiting for him to go a little higher, to finally grab my boobs, but he stops short and pulls back, leaving me panting and breathless.

“Fuck, Ive,” he says, dropping the second syllable in my name.

“What?” I challenge, my voice more of a whisper than a demand. I lean forward to capture his lips with mine again.

He lets out a strangled growl. “I’m barely holding it together here.”

“Don’t feel like you have to on my account.”

He presses his lips to mine once more. “I want your tits in my mouth. I want to taste your cunt.”

I shiver with anticipation.

“I want to be the only man who ever knows what your cunt feels like.”

Oh my God.

“I want to fuck you until my cum is dripping out of you.”

I think I might climax just from his words. “Do it, Cash. Do it all to me.”

His eyes flash as he backs up a little and shakes his head. “Oh no, baby girl. Not tonight. I’m not fucking you until you’re begging me for my cock.”

I flinch back in disappointment at his words. I thought tonight was going to be the night…and now, this?

What, I’m just supposed to go to bed when I’m all wet and waiting for him?

What the fuck is that?

Before I get the chance to unleash my anger, he pulls his shirt off.

I’m pretty sure I’m drooling. “Not tonight?” I ask softly.

He shakes his head, and holy shit, he’s sexy. He’s still close, and I reach over and brush my fingertips along the tattoo I spotted there the other morning. It’s a bunch of numbers that are just under his chest along his ribs. It’s so small that from far away, it might just be mistaken for a little line, or maybe you wouldn’t even see it at all.

He closes his eyes as I do it, like it’s physically affecting him for me to touch him there. I don’t ask him about it. Not tonight.

Even though he said he’s not going to fuck me until I’m begging, he never said anything about doing other stuff.

I pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the couch. I’m not wearing a bra underneath it, and his eyes move immediately to my tits.

“Not tonight, huh?” I challenge.

I move toward him and wrap my arms around him so our chests are smashed together, and I scratch my nails up his back. My eyes meet his, and he’s looking down at me with all this heat in his eyes, like he’s barely holding himself back.

I don’t want him to.

I want him to unleash that animal on me.