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My core convulses, tightening and releasing, loving the full feeling of Blake inside me. It’s different than with Ethan where everything was comfortable and predictable. This is intense and unknown.

“Please.”

Blake growls as he moves his hips back and slams them into me.

A burst of pleasure ignites when he hits me deep, so powerful I can practically feel it in my throat.

He thrusts again, and again, keeping my head pinned and my back arched just how he wants it. Every stroke making me whimper and moan.

This is it. This is what I wanted.

I’m no longer the sad, divorced, and abandoned woman I’ve been all month. I’m not the boring wife who gets two obligatory sex nights per month.

No. Right now, I’m one of Blake’s conquests. I’m sexy, I’m desirable, I’m fuckable. And it feels so good. So freeing.

And suddenly, all I can think about is making Blake come. I want him to completely lose control. I want to be so irresistible that he can’t stop himself.

I want to keep up this fantasy that I’m not a reject. Even if it only lasts a few minutes. I’m wanted. I’m everything.

Chapter Twelve

Blake

Amelia.

She’s everywhere. The feel of her body moving beneath me, the small sounds she makes every time I push into her, the soft texture of her hair, her smell that has me burying my face in her neck to get more of it, the rhythmic pulsing of her deepest place around my swollen cock, making me fantasize about ripping off that damn condom so I can feel her warm flesh against mine, she’s absolutely everywhere. And it’s so much better than I imagined it would be.

She wanted the bed to shake? The headboard hits the wall with a loud bang with every hard plunge. I can’t stop. I keep digging myself in deeper and deeper.

Then she clenches, her walls tightening against me.

An animalistic roar escapes from deep within my chest.

She doesn’t let go this time. It adds friction to every thrust. It’s a different kind of pleasure, one on the edge of pain. She starts to move her hips, pushing back into me every time I ram forward.

Blood pounds in my ears. The pressure builds in my sack. I want this to last but I know I’m fighting a losing battle.

“Blake!” she cries out with so much need, I’m a goner.

I explode. I press my hips against hers. My grip on her hair tightens. I push my chest down against her back. I hold her tight beneath me and shoot my release.

I come and I come, and I keep her locked tight. I don’t know if the condom can handle that kind of pressure. I should pull out. But I don’t. I don’t care if it breaks. No. I want it to break. I want to fill her with my seed. I want to dirty her, paint her full of it.

The orgasm just goes on and on.

It takes a while for my brain to get out of the pleasure fog and back to reality. I realize every muscle in my body is still flexed, still holding on to her tight. I force myself to relax, but don’t let go completely. I don’t want it to be over yet.

Amelia’s head is turned to the side.

I nozzle her ear. “That was amazing.”

A small satisfied smile forms on her face. But my memory is fuzzy. I don’t remember if she—

“Did you come?” I ask.

“I’m good,” she says.

"Are you sure?"