AllFreeNovel
Share Us
SNEAK PEAK
Chapter One
EMMA
Fire.
My whole body was aflame, every nerve ending firing off in sheer, unadulterated pleasure even as my world remained dark.
Blindfolded, I realized, my arousal spiraling into a higher peak.
It was one of my secret fantasies—blindfolded sex.
How did he…?
My train of thought ended abruptly as I felt an insistent, wet warmth claiming my breast. I cried out softly as I felt the hot touch of a tongue on my aching nipple, my body arching as it demanded more of that deliciously wicked tongue.
I held onto broad shoulders as I felt him surge into me with a ferocity that sent the fire in my veins roaring. My body rose from where I lay, meeting him thrust for thrust as my pleasure climbed higher and higher.
I felt fingers digging into the flesh of my hips as he drove fiercely into me, holding me in place to receive his relentless plundering of my pliant depths.
My orgasm finally crashed over me like a gigantic wave.
Or a freight train at full speed.
The force of it enough to jolt me into brutal wakefulness.
I groaned in frustration as my eyes fluttered open to the sight of the drab ceiling of the bedroom I shared with my husband now for seven years.
A dream. It was nothing but adream.
I glanced to my side, where Dillan lay snoring like a baby chainsaw, blissfully unaware that I was getting the best sex of my life in my dreams.
I wanted to cry in frustration because I so wanted that dream to be real. To besmashedto within an inch of my life while I was blindfolded, my other senses inundated with sheer pleasure.
It’s mostly just in and out then done for him, I thought miserably, as I got up and reached for the robe draped over the chair in front of the dressing table.He never even bothers to ask if it was good for me, too.
It wasn’t that I didn’tlikehaving sex with my own husband. It was just…I wished our sex life was a lot more…explosive.
I sighed in frustration as I tied my hair back into a ponytail. In any case, I couldn’t very well dwell in the land of dreams and forget to live. There were things that needed doing and I was the only one to do them.
That’s right. Because I’m the responsible one. The one who takes care of everything, I thought with a small smile as I padded into the kitchen.
I started the coffeemaker and got out some milk, eggs and bread. Dillan had a thing for French toast and it was one of the first things I learned to cook after we got married.
However, Max, our son, couldn’t stand it, so I made an omelet for him.
I had just flipped the omelet, when Dillan walked into the kitchen, engrossed in the newspaper in his hands. He was already dressed for the office and ready to head out for work.
“Good morning honey, I made some French toast,” I told him, sliding a plate in front of him.
He made a noncommittal sound and reached for his coffee.
“Good morning, Mom.”
I tamped down the disappointment in my heart at his reaction and turned to Max, who had just walked in to the kitchen in his pajamas. His brown hair was still messed up but a sleepy smile brought out the world’s most beautiful dimples and I felt my heart flutter at the sight.
“Hey back,” I smiled at him and he gave me a sleepy grin as he slipped into a chair.
