Page 47

“Claire,” John groaned as he paused to press frantic kisses down my throat. “My Claire.”

A lump rose in my throat at the way he said my name: sheer relief, tenderness, and a deep, greedy, unrelenting need that tugged on an invisible tether at my core. I was already breathless.

“Are you still angry with me?” I managed to gasp out between kisses.

“Furious,” he replied darkly, but then he kissed me again, his expression softening. “But I don’t want to talk about that tonight. I need to be with you again. I’ve waited so long.”

His words tore a soft moan of longing from me, and he took my lips with his again. We clutched at each other with a wildness that heated my blood, a lust that invaded every one of my senses. Our short, desperate little breaths between kisses, the hard lines of his warm body, and the way he met my every move, matching my desire with his.

“Come inside,” I panted. “Before someone sees.”

He let me go briefly so I could walk to the balcony door and open it. His eyes scanned my body as I went, hovering on my backside. I turned back to him as I held the door open. A small smirk, sly and wicked, curved his lips as he approached, and I followed him inside.

The second the door closed behind us, it was as if the firecracker of desire exploded, scattering sparks. John grabbed me with something like violence, and the air was knocked out of my lungs as my back met the wall with a loud thump. His hands clasped my face, kissing me with a frenzied, feral desire that heated my blood. I let out a tiny cry against his lips as his fingers raked through my hair, roughly pulling my head back for better access to my mouth.

I didn’t care. I matched his passion with my own, clawing at his shirt and eagerly rubbing myself against him. It’d been weeks of going to bed alone, without his warmth or his kisses or the silly, sweet little things he murmured to me during pillow talk. The casual conversations about nothing and everything—our days, our family and friends, all the pieces that made up our life together. Without him inside me, his muttered curses and groans in my ear, and without the deep, aching pleasure his touch inspired in my body. All the tiny, precious, everyday intimacies that I’d taken for granted.

John steered me toward the low profile dresser against the wall. I gasped as he suddenly lifted me up onto it, sending a decorative plate crashing to the floor. Without missing a beat, I curled my legs around his hips, securing him against me.

“Need you so much,” John gasped out when we surfaced briefly. “Christ, so much.”

I could feel his erection thickening between us, and I instinctively rubbed against it. He groaned in a helpless, desperate way that sent a pulse of arousal straight to my clit.

“I’ve been drowning, all these weeks,” I whispered. “Kissing you feels like coming up for air.”

He took a sharp intake of breath at my words, then kissed me again. His hands came up to cup my breasts. I moaned as he tweaked my nipples, then suckled on the sensitive spot between my neck and shoulder. He made a strangled sound in his throat and bent to fasten his lips around my still-covered nipple. Drawing it into his mouth with sharp, eager pulls, the thin, silky fabric of my nightgown grew damp, and I couldn’t help moaning again.

He repeated the process with the opposite nipple, and I leaned back on my hands, allowing him all the access he wanted. He sucked harder, pulling me into him, and I fisted my hands into his hair. My core was throbbing, my whole body on fire. If I didn’t get relief soon, I felt as though I’d combust.

In an instant, I was off the dresser, and John was pushing me onto the edge of the bed. He yanked up my nightgown and shoved my knees apart before planting my left foot on his shoulder and kneeling beside the bed. I lay back on my elbows, watching him. His eyes were wild with desire, and he was being far rougher with me than normal…but I didn’t mind. I loved seeing him like this—as if he’d die just for a taste of me. There was an invigorating power in bringing such a strong man to his knees. The cleft between my thighs was slick and aching.

“This is where I’m meant to be, always,” John said fiercely. “My mouth between your thighs, tonguing your pretty clit.” He took a long inhale and grunted. “Fuck, I can smell your cunt, beautiful. You need your husband, don’t you? It’s been too long since I satisfied you.”

I suppressed a whimper. Every muscle inside me was taut.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Please. I can’t wait for—”

I gave a hoarse cry when his soft, pliable tongue slipped inside me, clutching his head in my hands.

“Oh God, I missed you,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut, and John gave a heady laugh.

“Me, or my tongue?”

“Both,” I gasped, and he laughed again. “Definitely both.”

His deep, satisfied groan as he began to lick me in earnest was enough to make my legs quake; I had never gotten so close to orgasm so quickly before. Distance and time and longing so deep it felt like madness had stretched my endurance to its breaking point.

My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, and the pulses of arousal now felt like physical pain. Unbearable pressure built in my abdomen, and I spasmed when John suckled at my clit far too gently for my liking.

“I need to come,” I sobbed, barely coherent. “Make me come, husband.”

He chuckled dryly, but even in that, I heard strain. His own control was faltering. “You’re bossy tonight. I’ve told you before: never interrupt me while I’m worshipping your cunt, baby.”

I cried out again in frustrated pleasure when he gave my clit another soft suck—too short, too careful. I tightened my hands around fistfuls of his hair, probably pulling too hard, but I was too far gone to care.

John gave another husky laugh. “Nearly feral for me. I love it.” He gave me another long, lazy lick, and I endured a full-body shudder. “But I can’t deny you anymore. Not tonight.”

And when he started working me again with that filthy mouth I loved, I finally came apart, trembling with exertion and the sheer intensity of my climax. It had been too long since I’d had this. Too long since he’d done this to me, the way only he could. He knew how to push me to the edge of pleasure and sanity, to make me ache and beg and demand for him to please me.