It’s primal.
Raw.
Dirty.
Wrong.
I want it anyway.
I want him.
I want his love.
His touch.
His false promises.
An orgasm.
He owes me this much.
Fingers digging in my hip so hard and rough, I know he will leave a mark. A reminder that once upon a time he was wild for me. Proof my husband desired me over all else. I scratch at his back as mine thumps against the wall wishing someone could save me from myself.
It’s a mistake.
Bad for my health.
But right now he’s the only thing that can soothe this ache in my soul because I’m so damn broken. I seek out the connection that only we share.
I’m damaged and desperate for something to hold onto.
“Fuck, sweetness. You taste like mine. Always mine,” he murmurs against my pussy.
My hips buck.
More tears sting the backs of my eyes.
Hating myself for needing this.
For needing him.
I’m hopeless.
A lost cause.
“Don’t ruin thi
s with talking,” I warn. “Don’t waste your breath with more empty promises.”
I feel his lips spreading into a grin against my silken skin. “Got a wicked tongue but the sweetest taste. My Pam.”
He’s wrong.
I’m not his anything.
Not any longer.
I belong to no man.