Shayla Black - Forever Wicked

“Better,” he praised before he took her nipples in his mouth again, one after the other, savoring the soft skin of her breasts with his fingertips.

The starch that had stiffened her muscles since she’d walked through his door melted more with every pull of his mouth on the candy-hard crests. He could smell her now. The tang of her arousal filled his nostrils and made his blood boil. Every time he had Gia under his power, she fired him up like no woman ever had. Feeling her now warmed him like the sun after a long, cold winter.

But after what seemed like a thousand freezing seasons without her, he needed more.

With a growl, Jason fitted his hands around the little straps over her hips and ripped her thong away. He lay his palm over her bare pussy, letting her feel the claim he had placed here long ago. Then he ground the heel of his hand in a tight circle, directly over her clit. To his great satisfaction, she spread her legs wider to him, granting him even more access to her secret flesh.

He’d been wrong earlier. His wife didn’t just intoxicate him; she held him spellbound.

“Gia, baby, I’ve missed you,” he blurted.

He nearly bit his tongue off. No way should he admit that. The truth gave her power. He had to watch himself, somehow not get lost in her.

With a mewl, she lifted her hips to him. He sank his fingers between the velvety folds of her cunt, dipped his fingers into her wetness, and he caressed her clit. His slow rub had her writhing as he awakened the nerve endings under the hood of her flesh. Then he withdrew.

“I’ve missed you, too. Don’t stop,” she begged.

Wondering if she meant that or merely said what she thought he wanted to hear, Jason massaged her clit again, more circular motions that hardened the little bud and had her bucking closer for more. “Tell me who else makes you feel this way.”

“No one,” she breathed out.

Gia had admitted as much before they married, and he’d hoped the same was still true. “Who else has touched you like this in the last year?”

As he brushed her nerve-laden bundle again, she whimpered. “No one.”

“You haven’t let anyone pet this pretty pussy since me?” He wanted to hear her admit it again. He ached to believe it.

Jason softened his touch, concentrating the rhythmic cadence exactly where she wanted it, taking her closer and closer to the edge of pleasure.

“No,” she gasped out. “Even when I saw you with other women in the newspaper, I couldn’t…” Her thighs went taut, and she gyrated, trying to take him deeper. “I couldn’t do it.”

She thought he’d been unfaithful? That grated on him. It would probably be wise to let her think it, but where his wife was concerned, he had yet to make a damn logical decision.

“I attended benefits and art showings with ‘appropriate’ dates for one good cause after another. I smiled as photographers snapped pictures. I did not take anyone to bed.”

Gia turned her head away and tried to draw her legs together to shake off his touch. “You don’t have to lie.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “So why would I bother? Nothing in our prenuptial agreement prevents me from fucking someone else. But I didn’t.”

Around the edges of the mask, he could see her brows furrow together. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why?” He ripped the mask away. “Because you think I’m a deceitful playboy who chases one piece of ass after another?”

She blinked, readjusting to the light and focusing on him. “I wouldn’t have married you if I thought that.”

Jason raised a brow at her. “Do you think I cheated because you’re not special enough to inspire fidelity?”

“N-no.”

He sat back on his heels. The denial had come out, but he didn’t believe it. He wasn’t even sure she did.

“Then tell me why you think I’ve been playing musical beds.”

Rolling her shoulders back and crossing her legs, she shut her eyes and refused to meet his gaze. “I assumed you’d moved on with your life.”

The way she’d moved on with hers. Damn it. He should probably do the same, but now that he had Gia here, he wasn’t convinced he could ever let her go.

Jason grabbed her chin. “Look at me.”

Her mouth twisted and her nose reddened as she fought tears. “Can’t you just take what you want already?”

So she could hate him for it later? No. She seemed to think he merely saw her as a body to fuck. Or that he didn’t care about any pleasure but his own. If they were going to make any progress in the future, he needed to set the record straight now.

Hovering over her, he plunged one hand into her hair and tugged until he captured her gaze and her mouth trembled directly under his. He thrust two fingers into her weeping pussy and prodded her clit with his thumb. As she gasped and her body opened to him again, almost as if against her will, he slammed his lips over the soft velvet of hers and fused their mouths together.

Hell, he couldn’t inhale her fast enough, take her deep enough. As he shoved his way into her mouth, sweeping inside for a devouring kiss, Jason reveled in the fact that he touched her, penetrated her. He meant to do it again—frequently—lap at her flavor and drink in her reaction. He’d listen to each little breath and eat up every inch of her surrender over and over until she was completely in his hands and under his control again.

Pumping his fingers in and out of her as he swept through her mouth, Jason waited until an aroused glow suffused his wife, until she held her breath and her legs twitched, until she fought her restraints and kissed him with abandon. Then he jerked away, staring hard at her beautiful flushed face.

“No…” She pleaded with him.

He merely raised a brow at her.

“Mr. Denning,” she added hastily. “Please.”

Fuck, she was killing him. But this lesson had to take precedence. He might not respect her choice to come here for money, but he refused to let her believe he saw her as a whore.

Shaking his head, he tried not to soften in the face of her entreating stare. “You’re my submissive and my wife.”

“Yes, but—”

“No,” he corrected. “I have not touched another woman since our wedding night. And to set the record straight, if I intended to use you simply for my pleasure, nothing would have stopped me from fucking you right now, especially not the resentment you’d feel afterward. I want you to think about that, Mrs. Denning. I’ll be back.”

The door shut behind Jason, enclosing Gia in his bedroom by herself. His words hung in the silent room and reverberated through her body. His sudden absence made her feel ridiculously alone, but having him gone didn’t stop her body from throbbing for what only he could give her. With her breasts bare and her pussy exposed, she couldn’t not be aware of her naked vulnerability. Nor could she seem to pry her heart from her throat.

What the hell was going on?

As a police officer, the idea of being restrained in a man’s bedroom somewhat against her will should bother her. But Jason had relegated her to a desk because he didn’t want her hurt or killed hunting down Tony’s killer. Her husband would never physically harm her. On the other hand, he would very likely make her heart bleed—as if she hadn’t already been suffering since their separation.

If he hadn’t aroused her just now with the purpose of wringing every bit of his money’s worth from her body, then why had he touched her? To prove he could rev up her libido? Or something entirely different? Everything about his behavior in the last twenty-four hours confused her. She’d assumed that he wanted a divorce and that he sought to make her pay with her body before he paid in cash. Now…she wasn’t sure. If he’d brought her here merely to use her before he began legally shedding her, why would he insist he’d been faithful? Or speak her married name so emphatically, like he meant to underscore the fact that, at least on paper, she was still his wife.

Once, she’d believed that he loved her. He’d never said the words, but what he lacked in verbal affection he’d more than made up for in a hundred other ways, like his romantic, over-the-top proposal. Like remembering that she loved stargazer lilies and having huge bouquets stuffed with them at their last-minute wedding.

Like having chocolate mousse for her tonight?

Gia closed her eyes. Why couldn’t everything be different? The night she and Jason had married, she’d been on top of the world. He’d been the most dashing groom. Somehow, in less than twenty-four hours, he’d seen to every detail of their elegant ceremony. He’d even had a selection of insanely beautiful wedding dresses delivered to her door so she could pick one and have it hemmed or tucked as needed.

That night, she’d been Cinderella at the ball, swept into his glittering world for an enchanted evening, fooling herself into imagining that she belonged beside him. Her phone ringing with the news of Tony’s murder had been her clock striking midnight. Reality had ripped her from fantasy. Suddenly, she’d realized that her brother was gone forever, her parents didn’t know she had a husband, and she had a mountain of responsibilities that weren’t going to go away simply because she’d been foolish enough to marry a man she couldn’t keep.

When she’d forced herself to let go of Jason mentally, Gia had been sure he would forget her within a month or two. Six at most. But nearly a year later, he seemed resistant to the idea of releasing her for good.

Was it possible he still cared?

Gia glanced at the clock. He’d only been gone ten minutes. Somehow, it felt like a week. But that wasn’t new. For unending months after their marriage, being away from Jason hadn’t been a mere ache, but a plague—a ceaseless yearning that had hounded her days and haunted her nights. After just a little taste of him tonight, the need thrumming inside her, demanding to be close to him was twenty times worse.