Page 31 of Unruly

His teasing, sinful mouth drifted over her neck while his hands left her face to do as she wanted. It wasn’t long before her zipper was down, and cool air was hitting her olive-toned skin. Warm palms slid over her body as he pushed the dress lower. It hit the floor and puddled at her feet in a forgotten pile of black material, but his hands were still exploring.

Cross’s gaze appraised her, moving up and down her form with slow, yet appreciative, intend. “Damn, you know I love this set on you, babe.”

His fingertips skimmed under the cup of her black lace bra, while his other hand slipped between her thighs. He stepped closer to her again. His lips skimmed her jaw and up to her ear where his tongue snaked out to flick against the shell.

“Open up those fucking legs and let me feel,” Cross uttered in her ear.

She did.

And God, there was one of the best parts of him.

She loved his cock, his hands, and his mouth. All of them were their own special kind of torture. He could level one on her at a time, and reduce her to nothing. Or, he could use two on her, and drive her absolutely insane doing barely anything at all.

Catherine supposed that was the best part of having loved this man since she was a young thirteen. He had many years to learn her body, and how to work it. He was the musician, and she was his instrument.

There was nothing he did not do to Catherine that wouldn’t produce some kind of beautiful music.

Between her thighs, his hand rubbed her pussy overtop the black panties. Firm, insistent strokes that were testing her, she knew. Checking to see if she was responding the way he liked before he pushed her a little further.

“You’re wet already,” he murmured along the seam of her lips.

Cross’s dark eyes flickered with sin and love.

“Are you surprised?” she shot back.

“Not in the slightest.”

That was all he said before Catherine felt the loss of him between her legs. She opened her mouth to complain, but only a soft yelp came out when his arms circled her waist and her feet left the floor. Catherine’s back met the king-size bed before Cross’s fingers dug into her waist with just enough pressure to make her breath catch.

“Get the fuck back here, babe.”

He dragged her closer to the edge of the bed, and yanked her panties down her legs. She didn’t see where he tossed the underwear, but she didn’t care as his body fit between her widened thighs. One of his hands came up to close around her throat while his other was suddenly three fingers deep into her sex, and his thumb driving hard into her clit.

The shock of his intrusion with no warning made her legs fall open impossibly wider, and her back arch off the bed. She was wet enough that it didn’t hurt even a little bit. She loved the way it stretched her open, and how each push and pull of his hands came a little harder than the last. His fingers curled in just the right spot with every fast thrust, hitting her G-spot over and over and over again.

Her body sang.

Her pussy clenched.

Catherine really just wanted to come, now. She loved the way his hand tightened around her throat as her cries came desperate and breathless.

“Make me come, Cross,” she pleaded. “Won’t you make me come?”

“You know it, Catty.”

“Please.”

“Damn, I missed the smell of your cunt when I’m playing with it, Catherine.”

His dirty mouth always did it for her. She didn’t care what he said, it was good regardless. Her orgasm came on like a swift wave. It took her over, under, and pulled her out before she could even think to prepare for it.

Those were the best kinds, though.

Pleasure raked through her body while her husband’s hand slowed between her thighs, and his mostly naked form leaned over hers. Her hands had clenched into the bedspread, but she let it go to drift her fingertips over his body. Taut, firm muscles met her fingertips. Cross kept in shape—he never stopped moving, really. Right then, though, his muscles were tight like coils, ready to release and break.

On her.

She could not wait.