Do you know the best thing about being with a man like my fiancé?
He knows exactly what a woman wants, fulfils her sexual fantasies. He knows exactly what to say, how to act, where to touch and when to stop…or not stop.
The game of cat and mouse is his specialty.
And today, I’m the mouse.
I’m exiting my afternoon meeting when my phone alerts me to a message and I open it up.
‘Taxi is outside. Bring your umbrella.’
Taxi? I’m working, I can’t just leave. Umbrella? Why would I need a—the downpour outside makes me roll my eyes.
‘Now. I’m waiting, baby.’
He’s waiting for me when he should be working. He’s planned this and my stomach flips in anticipation. I skip work without another second of hesitation and jump in the lift.
The taxi takes me home and pulls up outside our house.
He’s waiting for me inside.
My core ripples with arousal, heat surging to settle between my legs, and my nipples ache against my bra. In an instant I want him. I want him so badly, I shoot from the taxi and to the front door. Silence greets me when I step inside and listen for him.
The mid-afternoon sun streams through the windows of the living room as I continue to search for him. I stop, feeling the warmth on my skin that dances with my desire. I bite my bottom lip and wait.
He doesn’t keep me waiting long; two large hands cover my eyes and the length of a strong body pressed into me from behind. I gasp, drawing in a sharp breath before he turns me and backs me up to the wall with his hands in my hair. His breaths are uneven when he looks into my eyes. His body is hot through the suit I watched him put on this morning. His eyes are burning with lust that matches mine.
He crashes his mouth to mine, fusing our lips together in a kiss that is desperate and fluid, frantic yet carefree. His tongue sneaks over mine to explore my mouth with confident strokes. He rolls his hips as he bites my lip, he dips lower as he kisses my neck and his hand slips into my pants. I’m wet, so hot and desperate for his touch that sharp breaths escape my lips as his fingers find my clit and he rubs in a jagged circle.
This is it. This is what I love because my fiancé is a damn sex god, a romantic sex god.
He called me from work, summoned me because he knew his charm would work because he was horny and he wanted me…and he wouldn’t wait.
He kisses me with a ferocity that makes me gasp. His fingers fuck me with the confidence that always makes me moan and pray for more while hoping it will last forever. Easing me back to lay on the sofa, he keeps me on edge by cupping my pussy and stroking with the tenacity that roars through him and makes the outline of his hard cock visible beneath his suit trousers.
He lays me down and I part my legs. He strokes and fuses his lips to mine, swallowing the moan that escapes when his fingertip catches my clit. My trousers are next, keeping my ankles locked together, legs wide before his head dives between them.
Christ, his mouth is as incredible as the rest of him.
He laps and sucks at my swollen lips, his tongue making leisurely circles over my clit as he hums against my sensitive flesh and makes...
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Read all about the wonderful author: Rebecca Sherwin
