Married to My Enemy

But I knew better.

The little moment we shared was a fantasy because the last five eyes had indeed happened and they had taken their toll on me.

With the feel of his lips on mine, all the logic I held onto so dearly fell on the wayside and my body took over.

My lips parted under his and my core flooded its self in preparation to receive his.

It knew the pleasure he could provide and it needed to feel it again. Right this instant.

It had been too long, too many nights with a sick kid, or studying for the MCATs. I craved the intimate contact and my back arched, thrusting me into his hold.

His tongue took advantage of my surrender and pushed passed my lips to touch mine. I moaned and allowed my tongue to dance with his. We kissed like had never stopped kissing, the hot familiarity making us move into an easy rhythm.

My hands clutched at him and his swept over me, shaping, molding and squeezing my curves. He was making deep, pleased sounds in the back of his throat and any consciousness I would have felt in the way my body had changed over the years became irrelevant. In his hold, I was the most beautiful creature on earth.

My fingers tangled in the short strands of his hair, luxuriating in the soft feel of them until I was forced to let go because he was jerking my shirt up and over my head.

The connection of our lips was broken for no more than two seconds before they were locked up again. Expert fingers broke the clasp of my bra then it was sliding down my hands and falling to the floor.

We were moving so fast, Wyatt guiding the way. The feel of a wall at my back stopped the movement. Wyatt pressed against my front, his hardness trapping me there.

Through his pants, his cock was hot and insistent against my stomach. Pushing up with my toes, I tilted my hips and pushed back against him.

I pulled at his shirt, needing the feel of his naked skin on mine but he captured my hands and shackled them above my head. He pulled his mouth free and trailed kisses down my jawline, neck and chest before capturing the tip of one breast between his lips.

I cried out, the sound loud in the otherwise still room.

I pulled at the human restraint and he let me go to cup my free breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers.

It felt so good. So necessary. Like a relief I didn’t know I needed.

My fingers reached under his shirt and pushed it up. He let go of me to pull it over his own head. He tossed the fabric away carelessly.

He suddenly spun me around. My front was pressed up against the hard wall and his body molded to my back.

His hands gathered the fabric of my skirt and pulled it up so that it bunched around my waist.

A sharp tug of his hand and my panties were gone.

“I can’t fucking wait,” he growled against my ear.

“Ohhh,” I cried at the delicious violence of the move. At the utter need in his voice.

This man needing me was the ultimate aphrodisiac. I was a goner.

Cool air rushed over the heated flesh between my legs. I squirmed, so very aware of how empty I felt inside. Of the need to be filled by him.

He cupped my smooth mound and growled again.

“You’re so fucking wet for me. Just for me. Tell me you are,” he demanded.

I couldn’t deny his masterful domination. Not when it catered to the need of the part of me that needed to submit to his special brand of hot, unbridled sex.

“Just for you,” I said.

His stroked my clit with his thumb as his middle finger breached my entrance.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you. It has been too long. Let me have you, Hailey,” he breathed hotly against my neck.