5
Kira stifled a scream as his engorged head came up against her cervix.
But it wasn’t pain. Not pain alone. It was the thin line between pain and the kind of pleasure she’d never experienced before her marriage to Lyon.
He waited a long moment, fully seated inside her, giving her time to adjust to the extraordinary length and width of his cock as his hands roamed her body, over her stomach, up to her breasts.
She had a fleeting moment of fear. She wouldn’t be able to hide the changes in her body much longer, and she badly didn’t want Lyon to find out by accident.
It didn’t last long. A moment later he was dragging his cock out of her inch by inch, hovering at her entrance before impaling her again.
After that there was nothing but his hands on her body, his cock tunneling through her swollen channel, the pressure building at her center as her body clamored for release.
She leaned on the wall as if her life depended on it, knees weak with the pleasure coursing through her body, lost in the mindless need that opened up at the center of her body.
She heard herself moan and had only a fleeting thought of the men working in the club. Could they hear her? Could they hear Lyon groaning in her ear as his cock grew longer and harder inside her?
She didn’t care.
His hand snaked up her bare thigh, and a moment later she gasped as he started making fast circles around her clit, still thrusting inside her, more urgent now, caught up in the same lust that was coursing through her own veins.
Her hands started to slide from the wall and he growled behind her.
“Hands on the wall.”
The subverted desire to touch him only made her wetter, more crazy with hunger, and she pushed back against him, seeking more.
He gave her ass a hard slap with his free hand and she cried out, almost tipping over into her orgasm.
He laughed wickedly. “My little wife likes to be spanked. What would everyone say if they knew?” His voice was a purr that shivered down her spine, erupting at her core, stoking the fire already raging there.
“Lyon…” She felt the impending orgasm like a tidal wave at the center of her body, could almost hear it as it approached.
She turned her head and his lips found hers, the sensation of his tongue sliding into her mouth only adding to the erotic overload in her body.
He moved faster, pounding into her with a frenzy that took her breath away, his fingers still working her clit. “Do it, Kira.”
He slapped her ass again and she came apart against him, her body shuddering as waves of release rolled through her, cracking open any dignity she had left.
She moaned as she came, begged him not to stop, told him she was coming even though he knew, even though he was coming too, spilling himself inside her as their bodies slapped together in the kind of mindless coupling that would have embarrassed the woman she’d been before she married the Lion.
When her orgasm finally stopped, she was heaving and limp, still braced on the wall, this time for support.
He slid out of her. “Wait here.”
“Where are you…?”
She removed her hands from the wall and looked over her shoulder as he disappeared into the hall. He returned a moment later with a handful of tissue from the club’s bathroom.
“Turn around,” he said.
She obeyed and was surprised when he knelt at her feet without a care for the fact that his custom trousers would be filthy from the construction debris.
Her cheeks warmed as he wiped gently between her legs, cleaning her up. When he was done, he folded the tissue and tucked it in his pocket. Then he smoothed her skirt, fixed her bra, and buttoned her blouse.
He bent to the floor to pick up the scrap of her panties. He tucked those in his pocket with the tissue.
She lifted her chin. “Aren’t you going to apologize for tearing my underwear?”
“No."
“They were one of my favorites.” She was being foolish. They were just underwear. She could buy a hundred more of them if she wanted.
But she was feeling embarrassed that he’d taken her so viciously with the workmen nearby.
That she’d enjoyed it.
He walked toward her, stopping when he was only an inch away. Sliding his hand into the hair at the back of her head, he looked down at her. “I’ll buy you as many as you like, but when I want to fuck you, nothing will stand in my way.”
The words sparked like a match in her stomach, and she wished she could take his cock into her mouth, that they were at home where he could fuck her again and again like he did on the nights they spent together.
“You didn’t come to me last night.” She’d meant the words to be accusatory, but she heard the disappointment in them and hated herself for it.
Regret flashed in his amber eyes and he surprised her by lowering his mouth to hers and capturing her lips in a kiss. He didn’t often kiss her outside of bed. It was something he seemed loathe to do, something she had been forced to accept since her return from the island that had been her refuge when she’d run from him after her father’s death.
The kiss started out long and languid, his tongue sweeping her mouth, his hand cupping her neck, but it quickly grew heated.
He angled his head to take the kiss deeper and pushed her back against the wall. His cock was already hard again, pressing against her stomach, bringing to life her seemingly never-ending hunger for him.
She ran her hands over the planes of his chest, the blood quickening in her veins as her fingers mapped the muscled peaks and valleys under his shirt. Leaning into him, she stood on tiptoe and met the parries of his tongue with an urgency of her own, sliding her hands over his shoulders and into his thick dark hair.
He pulled away all at once, as if realizing what he was doing.
As if realizing a mistake.