Not Daddy Material (Billionaire's Contract Duet 2)

He cupped my cheek, brushing his lips against mine. “Mmm. Is this for me?”

I nodded. “It is.”

He looked over his shoulder at the candlelit supper and again to me. His hands traveled to the small of my back where the apron was tied. I felt the bow fall to the side as he pulled on the ends.

“You can’t wear this to dinner.” He leaned down, kissing my throat.

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t.”

He took the wine from my hand. “And I don’t want you to spill wine on those heels.”

“That would be bad. You did buy them for me.”

I smiled when he lifted me to the counter.

“I didn’t know this was the kind of wife you were going to be, Mrs. Hartwell.”

“What kind of wife is that?” I asked playfully.

His hand pressed between my breasts as he pushed my back flat on the cold surface. It wasn’t enough to cool the slow burn under my skin.

“The kind who makes sure her husband has dessert before dinner.” He jerked my ass to the edge of the granite.

“Oh shit,” I hissed as he dove between my legs. His tongue began to work relentlessly. He drew a long slow lick before I heard his zipper and then the sound of his belt hitting the floor.

“I was going to take you out to dinner.” He kissed my right knee and then my left as he slung my heels on the tops of his massive shoulders. “But this is a much better plan.”

He pointed his cock to my heat and for a moment, I braced for the impact of Jeremy filling me with his thick shaft.

“Ohh,” I moaned as he pushed into me.

My heels bounded in the air as he thrust again.

“Tell me I can fuck you like this every night before dinner, baby.”

My palms slid across the surface, trying to hold on. “God, yes,” I agreed. I loved the angle. I loved his powerful body. I felt like a sex kitten. The kind who had made her husband extremely happy.

Jeremy reached forward, dragging his thumb to my clit. I jerked at his touch and I saw the wicked smile on his face. He flicked at my tight nub until I was a wreck, quivering and shaking with the promise of an epic orgasm.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned. “Come hard. Like this. I feel you, Evie. I feel how much you want it.”

I nodded, not able to turn back the raging river burning under my skin. It burned for him. For us. For how dirty and erotic it was to lure my husband into naughty sex on the kitchen counter.

“I. Can’t. Stop,” I screamed as his thumb worked my clit, beckoning the orgasm to spill over in never-ending toe-curling sensation.

Jeremy pumped harder, fueled by my climax. Until I heard the low grunts and knew his cock was about to explode inside me. I held my breasts, tugging at my nipples, feeding his desire. Watching his eyes glaze over with carnal lust. He slammed into me, roaring with his release.

He stood there planted while he filled me with one gush after another of his seed.

I smiled.

“You are full of surprises.” He kissed my ankle. Damn, he was sexy. He was still dressed from the waist up for work.

“I try.” I shrugged.

Just then his expression changed. He had looked up. His eyes were on the couch.

“What is the couch doing covered in pillows? Are those blankets? And flowers?” I almost thought his voice cracked at the last question.