The Stranger I Married

His body was so hard and hot to the touch, it burned her. “You do not heed warnings very well,” he murmured in a low tone, and before she could process it, he’d thrust his cock into her. Not quite creamy for him and still a bit sore, she cried out and arched upward, the entry both painful and unexpected.

His hand fisted in the length of her hair, keeping her head back and her throat exposed. It also kept her helpless and rigidly in place as he began to fuck her with fierce, powerful lunges.

“When we are through with each other,” she gasped, her determination unwavering, “we will separate. I will return to my old residence. We will be friends, and you can regain face.”

He rammed into her, striking so deep she lost her breath.

“You can have only me,” she managed a moment later, moisture flooding her sex as he took what he wanted and excited her by doing so. “Slide between another woman’s sheets and you void our arrangement.”

Gray lowered his head and sucked hard on her neck. He grunted with every deep plunge of his cock, his heavy balls slapping against her with each downward stroke. The result of having her head held back was her breasts thrusting upward, and the coarse hairs on his chest scraped across her nipples. She whimpered at the feeling, her wits slipping rapidly.

She should not feel so good. Her position was uncomfortable, his touch bruising, his mouth and teeth hurtful against her tender throat. His hips pummeled hers, his shaft a thick intrusion that pumped through swollen tissues…And yet the absolute certainty in his touch, the complete lack of hesitation, his supreme arrogance in using her body for his pleasure was nearly rapturous.

“Yes…” As her body shivered on the verge of climax, she moaned a low plaintive sound. She clawed at his sides, dug her heels in his ass, and gave as good as she received.

“Isabel,” he growled, his mouth pressed to her ear. “Brazen enough to tackle a man naked, but so swiftly mastered by a hard cock.”

It would not be like it was before! “My rules,” she reminded, then she sank her teeth into his chest.

“Damn your rules.” Gray yanked out of her, his free hand gripping his cock and pumping, guttural sounds accompanying the spurting of his cum across her belly. It was base and raw, very different from his lovemaking of just a day before, and it left her writhing in an agony of lust.

“Selfish bastard.”

Tossing his leg over her hips, he rolled and came over her, straddling her. His beautiful mouth was hard, his face flushed and eyes glazed. “A man is not required to pleasure his mistress.”

“So you accept the arrangement,” she bit out, her teeth clenched together. She was in control, regardless of how he might wish it otherwise.

As his hands began to rub his seed into her skin, his smile was cold and tight. “If you have a wish to make a devil’s bargain, so be it.” He caught her nipples between damp fingertips and rolled them.

Isabel slapped at him. “Enough!”

“I should allow you to leave, all angry and hot and wet. Maybe then you would feel a little of what I do.”

“Spare me,” she scoffed. “You had your pleasure.”

He hummed a soft chastising sound. “Do you truly believe I could be sated while you are not?”

“Do I misunderstand the semen on my stomach?”

Gray leaned back to give her an unhindered view of the hard length of his cock. The sight of it was nearly too much for her overheated body. Even his arrogant smile did nothing to dampen her desire. He was built for a woman’s pleasure, and he damn well knew it.

“I believe we have already established your stamina, Grayson.”

His gaze narrowed, which aroused her suspicions. She could see his mind at work. Considering something devious, no doubt. “Any man kneeling over your creamy cunt would be ready to rut in it.”

“How poetic,” she murmured dryly. “Be still my heart.”

“I save my poetry for my wife.” He slid downward, his smile wicked enough to make her tense in apprehension. “If it were she in my bed, I would not leave her so distressed.”

“I am not distressed.”

He licked the edge of skin that prefaced the damp curls of her sex. She gasped.

“Of course not,” he said, grinning. “Mistresses do not expect orgasms.”

“I always have.”

Ignoring her, he dipped his head and swiped his tongue through the lips of her sex. Her hips arched involuntarily. “I would tell my wife how I love the taste of her and the feel of her petal soft skin. How the scent of our combined lust arouses me further, and keeps me hard despite the many times I come on her.”

She watched his strong hands with their neatly trimmed nails and unfashionable calluses press her legs open wider. The sight of his dark skin against her paler flesh was erotic, as was the lock of dark hair that fell over his brow and tickled her inner thighs.

“I would tell her how much I love the color of her hair here, the rich chocolate with glints of fire. It is like a beacon that lures me to her, promising untold delights and hours of pleasure.” Gray pressed a kiss against her clitoris, and when she keened softly, he suckled, stroking his tongue leisurely back and forth across it.

Releasing the counterpane she held so tightly, she reached for him, her fingertips sliding through the thick silk of his hair to caress the sweat-dampened roots. He made that noise she adored, a cross between an arrogant grunt and a groan of encouragement, and then he rewarded her with faster licks.

Draping her legs over his shoulders, she tugged him closer, lifting her hips to swivel against his expert mouth. Any moment she expected him to stop, to tease her cruelly by leaving her wanting. Desperate to come, she begged, “Please…Gray…”

He mumbled reassurance, his large hands gentling her as he brought her to orgasm with the gentle fucking of his tongue. She froze, every muscle and sinew locked with the pleasure that unfurled slowly and increased in intensity until she shivered uncontrollably.

“I love that,” he murmured, shrugging carefully out from under her and crawling up the length of her body. “Almost as much as I love this.” He surged into her spasming depths with a growl.

“Oh my God!” She could not open her eyes, even to look at him, something she enjoyed so much she often stared. She was drunk on him-the smell of him, the feel of him.

The sight of him would ruin her.

“Yes,” he hissed, sinking deep, his cock as hard as stone and hot enough to melt her. Curling his arms beneath her shoulders, Gray embraced her from head to toe. His mouth to her ear he whispered, “I would tell my wife how she feels to me, so hot and drenched, like dipping my cock into warm honey.”

She felt the tight roping of his abdomen flex against her belly as he withdrew in a slow, torturous glide and then pumped back inside.

“I would love her body the way a husband should, with care for her comfort and an eye toward her pleasure.”

Her hands caressed the curve of his spine, cupping his steely buttocks. She moaned as they clenched on a perfect stroke. “Keep doing that,” she whispered, her head falling to the side.

“This?” He withdrew, and then, circling his hips, screwed back into her.

“Mmmm…A little harder.”

The next pump of his hips struck deep. Delicious.

“You are a demanding mistress.” As his mouth followed the curve of her cheekbone, he chuckled.

“I know what I want.”

“Yes.” His hand stroked her side, cupped her hip, and angled her perfectly for his measured thrusts. “Me.”

“Gray.” Her arms tightened, her body awash in lustful longing.

“Say my name,” he urged hoarsely, his cock shafting her cunt in long, rhythmic plunges.

Isabel forced her heavy eyelids to open, and met his gaze. The request was not frivolous. His handsome features were open, boyish, stripped of their usual arrogant assurance. A mistress would not use his name. Neither would most wives. The intimacy was telling. And with his body riding hers with unfailing skill, devastating.

“Say it.” Now it was a command.

“Gerard,” she cried, as he made her come in a white hot flare of heat.

And he held her, and made love to her, and crooned praise to her.

Just as a husband would.