Chapter Twenty-Six - Westin

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

WESTIN

The night she told me she wasn't sleeping with Thomas Garrison was the night I went out and bought everything I needed to make her mine: toys, implements, and a diamond ring.

The toys can come out tonight.

The ring should probably wait until her husband is six feet under.

She falls onto her back, naked and breathtaking. Her blonde hair is the longest it has ever been. It tumbles over my bed, like yellow flowers in the summer fields.

I kneel between her spread thighs. Her pussy is dusky pink and laced with arousal. She gasps as I lift her further up so I can bend and lick between her legs. Her spine arches. Her toes curl, and I grip her ankle, loving how small it feels in my fist.

My cock throbs. I want to be inside her so badly, but not until she's ready.

Not until she's broken.

"Do you want a shot, darling?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

She nods. I feel her eyes on me as I go to the cart and pour the bourbon. When I return, she's on her knees, her feet tucked under her body. She's breathtaking like this, sitting naked on my bed.

"Stay there," I say .

I set the shot glass aside and go to the closet. Hanging on the wall is a collar. I take it down, running my fingers over the soft leather. I bought this for her and had the inside engraved with her name.

Diane Quinn.

Her eyes widen as I leave the closet. Her body shivers as I brush her hair back and clasp the collar around her throat. It's black leather, and the inside is lemon yellow silk.

"Does it feel good, darling?" I ask.

She nods once. "It feels…secure."

"Good girl," I praise. Her body is relaxed, and she has those big brown eyes locked on me intently. I bend and kiss the nape of her neck, holding her hair aside.

"Is my hair in the way?" she whispers, lifting her wrist to show me the band around it.

I slip it from her hand and kneel beside her. She keeps still as I gather up her hair and braid it loosely. Her breasts heave, her dusky pink nipples tight. When I lean in, I swear I can smell the wetness between her legs, and it makes me want to push my face into her pussy again.

But not yet.

She stays perfectly still, watching as I retrieve the whiskey glass from the table. I circle the bed until I'm standing at the foot of it and beckon her closer.

She obeys, wriggling until she's right before me.

"Open your mouth," I order.

Her lids droop, and arousal makes her cheeks flush. Her lips part, and her pink tongue extends.

"Tilt back," I say. "Wider for me."

She opens her mouth as far as she can and pushes her tongue all the way out. My mind goes right back to that day in her kitchen, when she took my cum in her mouth and showed it to me on her tongue.

Fuck, she's so perfect .

I shoot the whiskey and bend over, letting it stream from my mouth to hers. There's a common theme here. From my lips to my love's, our tastes mingling. Apples, whiskey, anything else.

I just want her to taste me, to know I'm stained in and on her body.

She swallows, whiskey dripping down her chin. I let it slip lower until it's between her breasts. Then, I lick it off and sink my teeth into the side of her neck until she moans and her hips writhe.

I tear my mouth from her skin. "Did that make you wet, you slut?" I breathe.

She moans, shaking. Her nails bite into her thighs.

"Get on the floor, on your knees."

I step back and start unbuttoning my shirt. She scrambles up and sinks to the floor by the bed, sitting back on her heels. Those dark eyes follow my every move as I unfasten my belt and strip naked. Her breasts heave, her gaze dragging over my body.

I take her by the jaw and force her lips apart. Her eyes widen, but she doesn't resist me. I grip my cock at the base and push the head into her soft, hot mouth. Then, carefully, I let the whiskey flow down my stomach. It gathers in the ridge down the center of my abs, down over my groin, and follows the curve of my cock until it spills into her mouth. Her throat bobs as she drinks it down.

I give her a little more.

She swallows like a good slut. The excess spills from her lips and down the valley between her breasts.

My head goes blank. I pick her up with one arm and flip her back onto the bed. Her thighs fall open, and I kneel between them. Her eyes flash as I lift the bottle over her belly and pour it into the little dip of her navel. Her gasp turns to a moan. I set the bottle aside and lap the whiskey from her belly. kissing her, nipping her soft skin, drinking from her body.

This isn't enough. I'm fucking selfish; I want everything.

My mouth lowers until it finds what it wants—her soft, drenched cunt.

She moans, and her hips lift. It takes me a second to realize she's coming. Then I taste it as wetness spatters my chin and stains my bed. Pleasure rips through her in waves, shaking her and leaving her weak when it goes.

Those pretty eyes are dreamy, fixed on the ceiling.

She's slipping into submission until she's sweet, until she's free of any burdens. That's where I find her, limp beneath my body. I pull her up against the pillows and shove her thigh up, hooking it over my elbow.

She shakes as the head of my cock slips into her cunt. A tear etches from beneath her lashes.

"Oh my God," she breathes.

Our bodies shudder together, and my mouth grazes her forehead, like kissing an ember. My hips sink close, and we're fused, both breathless. Then, I drag my length from her body. Wait a beat. And slam inside.

The bed hits the wall. She cries out, her eyes flying open. Her hand comes up and plants on my chest.

"What the fuck," she gasps.

I nip her breast. "What? Did you really think I'd given you everything?"

"I did," she whimpers.

I flip her over, cradling her with my hand on her lower stomach. She cries out, nails tearing at my quilt as I guide my cock into her pussy. She stretches, scratching at the headboard, writhing in my grip as she tries to get away.

But she doesn't safeword me.

I grip her braid, wrapping it in my fist. Her head yanks back and her spine arches beautifully, giving me more space inside her cunt. I steady her hipbone against my forearm and slip my fingers between her legs. Her clit is swollen. She's so wet, it runs down my wrist.

"You're my whore," I pant. "You've always been my whore, from the fucking first moment I met you."

She cries out as our bodies meet. Rough, hard. Almost violent.

"You left the first time we met," she cries out .

I slam into her again, pulling her head back to look down into her eyes. "I should have stayed. I should have taken you upstairs and let them all hear me fuck you."

My fingers work her clit, and she comes again. It's so easy together, pleasure tumbling out without even trying. This time, her orgasm is short and quick, pumping around my cock.

I fuck her through it, holding her down by the hair. My own orgasm draws closer and closer until I can't hold it back anymore.

I thrust to the hilt and come hard as my brain explodes in full color. There's nothing in the world that feels as good as coming inside her. Once she's mine, I'm going to keep her up all night.

We collapse, my body over hers. It takes a second for me to realize what I did.

"No," I rasp. "When is your period due?"

"Three days," she says, forehead creased. "It's fine, I think. I shouldn't get pregnant."

We're playing with fire. She's married, but she's not sleeping with her husband, so if she gets pregnant, he'll know it was by another man. I highly doubt their agreement to not be monogamous will keep him from losing his shit.

She wriggles under me, turning over. Her fingertips graze my face.

"It's okay, Westin," she whispers.

What does it matter anyway? If she gets pregnant, I'll take her away before she shows. Tonight, drunk off whiskey and Diane, that seems like a real plan.

"How do you feel?" I ask.

"Good. Really relaxed," she murmurs, eyes hazy. "I could sleep for days."

"I'm not done, darling. Get on your knees," I say, rising to my feet. "We're just getting started."