Chapter 15
EBBA
We crash into my hotel room, a tangle of flailing limbs and mouths that don’t want to part. Fisher kicks the door shut behind us and drops me on the bed. His lips are red and swollen from our kisses while his hair is a wild mess on top of his head from my fingers pulling on the strands.
I struggle to regain my breath as he stares down at me. I feel like a cornered animal, but one that wants to get caught.
Fisher reaches up and makes quick work of undoing the buttons on his black dress shirt.
He shrugs off the fabric and lets it drop to the floor while my eyes eat up his bare chest. Despite not playing professionally for years, he’s still well-muscled with a dusting of hair and freckles on his chest and stomach.
He’s more filled out than the last time I saw him like this—like he was still slightly gangly back then and he’s grown into himself.
He flicks his hair out of his eyes and grins at my slow appraisal. My eyes draw lower to his erection pressing insistently against his pants.
Lifting one of my legs, I press my shoe against his stomach. “Take them off of me, please. My feet are killing me.”
Fisher obliges by gliding his warm fingers over my ankle and popping open the strap. He removes the shoe and sets it gently on the floor before massaging the arch of my foot. I moan.
“God, that feels good.”
His smile is pure, male arrogance. “I’m going to make you feel even better, baby.”
He rubs my foot for another minute or two before dropping it and going through the same motions on my other.
When he lowers my leg, he crouches down and places a hand on each side of my waist. With one hand, he tugs on the bottom of my sparkly pink dress.
“This dress has driven me crazy all fucking night. This color on you is fucking stunning and the way it clings to you…” He shakes his head.
“I’ve dreamed about taking it off of you since I first laid eyes on you in it. ”
“Why don’t you, then?” I taunt.
He smiles so big that his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Oh, I am. But I’ve always been someone who likes to take their time unwrapping their presents.”
“Is that what I am?”
“Yeah.” He swallows. “Best fucking gift ever.”
His mouth finds mine before I can respond and we practically melt together. It’s how it’s always been with us—two magnets that can’t resist the pull.
“Roll over,” he commands.
I do as he says, resting on my knees and arching my back. Turning my head, I watch the lust-filled determined expression on his face as he lowers the zipper on the back of my dress.
He pulls me up with ease with only his hands on my waist and turns me, so I face him.
The straps of my dress slide down my arms, revealing the bra I put on earlier—light pink mesh and completely see-through.
He wets his lips and his Adam’s apple bobs as he stares at my breasts like he’s never seen them before.
“Ebba,” he exhales my name. “You’re so fucking hot.”
My cheeks warm. “Thank you.”
His eyes darken and he takes one step back. “Now, take the dress off.”
I wiggle the dress down past my hips and it pools at my feet. Instead of stepping out of it, Fisher grabs me by the back of my legs and lifts me up. Looping my arms around his neck, he carries me away from the bed.
“Where are you taking me?”
His smile is wicked when he sets me down in front of the window that overlooks the Las Vegas strip.
“Hands on the glass.”
“I … what?”
There’s only a small light on in the room, so it’s not like it’s entirely lit up, but the idea of standing in front of the window while he … I’m both intrigued and terrified.
“You heard me. Turn around and put your hands on the window.”
My breath stutters as I do as I’m told. My fingers shake, not fully pressed to the glass. A moment later, the warmth of his body engulfs me, and he puts his hands over top of mine, flattening them against the cool material.
“Keep your hands there.” His lips skim the top of my shoulder. “Don’t drop them.”
“Or what?” I challenge, and my breathlessness probably has the question falling a bit flat.
“You don’t want to know,” he taunts.
Lowering himself, he kneels behind me. His fingers loop in the sides of my underwear and he pulls them down.
“You’re so gorgeous, Ebba.” His warm palms massage the globes of my ass. “You drive me crazy.” He taps the inside of my left thigh. “Spread your legs, baby. Let me see that pretty pussy I’ve been dreaming about for years.”
My heart races, wild and out of control, but I manage to do what I’m told.
“More,” he demands.
Again, I listen.
“Mm,” he hums. “Look at that pretty pussy. Dripping wet and just waiting for me.”
My hands bang against the glass when he slides one finger over my clit and down my slit.
He tsks. “Don’t move your hand.” A smack lands on my right ass cheek, and I groan from the sting of pain and pleasure.
“You like to pretend you’re not affected by me, but this dripping wet pussy says otherwise.
It’s begging for my fingers and my tongue and my cock.
” He spreads me wide with two fingers. “Have you missed the way I fuck you?”
I bite my bottom lip, not wanting to give him an answer.
“Ebba.” My name is a lazy taunt. “Answer me.”
My eyes squeeze shut when he spanks me again.
“Y-Yes,” I stutter.
“That’s right,” he says, circling a finger around my clit. “No one else can fuck you as good as I can. Should I make you beg for it?”
A scream slips out of me at the unexpected feel of his teeth biting into the flesh of my left butt cheek. It’s not painful, just a surprise. He quickly smooths his tongue over the spot and whispers, “Mine.”
“Fisher,” I breathe his name.
“Tell me what you want me to do first, wife.”
That word, the reminder that we’re married, has my knees wobbling.
“Use your words,” he reminds me when I haven’t answered quick enough.
“Mouth. I want your mouth on me.”
“And where do you want my mouth?”
I turn my head so I can see him kneeling behind me and his hooded, lusty eyes lift to mine. Finding my voice, I say, “My pussy.”
“Just remember to be a good girl and keep your hands on the window. Can you do that for me?”
“Y-Yes,” I stutter. I’m pretty sure I would agree to anything to get him to put his mouth on me, so keeping my hands on the window should be easy enough.
At the first press of his mouth, I lurch forward and my body presses fully against the glass.
“So responsive,” he murmurs with a soft laugh. His breath tickles the inside of my legs and I jump again. “So sensitive.”
I close my eyes when he sucks at my clit. The moan that comes out of me is downright embarrassing. It’s been months since I’ve had sex. Years since I’ve had good sex. Sex with Fisher was always the best. He knew my body in a way no man has ever bothered to get to know since.
He licks and sucks, eating me out like I’m his last meal.
He never was shy about going down on me.
My breaths turn to pants. “I’m close,” I warn him.
He moans in response, and I love that he gets off on bringing me pleasure.
I bite down on my bottom lip, but a whimper still manages to escape.
“Oh, God!” I cry out. “Yes, oh my God.”
I scream when he slaps my pussy. “My name isn’t God. When I make you come, I want all the credit. You better scream my name next time.”
“Y-Yes,” I stutter.
“That’s my girl,” he croons, dragging his fingers—wet with my arousal—down the inside of my right leg. He stands, gripping my hips tightly. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the back of my right shoulder. “Are you on birth control?”
“Yeah, and I got tested after—”
“Don’t say his name,” he growls. “Please, don’t say his fucking name.”
“Jealous?” I taunt.
“Not anymore.” He sucks at my neck, my body leaning back into his. “I’m the one whose ring you’re wearing.” He carefully pulls my hair back. “Is my wife going to let me fuck her bare?”
My core clenches.
“Fuck, yes. Please.”
He chuckles and presses another kiss to the center of my spine. “I love it when you beg. Keep your hands where they are.” A small whine slips out of me at the reminder, and I gasp when he grabs my hair, yanking me back by the strands. “You don’t like that?”
“I want to touch you.”
“And you will.” He kisses me. “But not yet.”
Another kiss and then he steps back and I hear the clang of his belt and then his zipper gliding down. I shiver in anticipation. When his palms land on my hips, I jolt forward and my hands slip against the glass. I quickly right them and eye the view of the Strip beyond the window.
The press of his cock against my entrance has me biting my bottom lip.
So long. It’s been so long since I’ve been fucked properly.
“I wish you could see the way your pussy takes my cock. It’s desperate for me. I bet your pussy missed me.”
I gasp when he pushes all the way in. “Fisher,” I moan.
“That’s right,” he croons, one hand snaking around my body until his fingers find my clit. “Say my name, baby.”
I press my forehead into the glass, struggling to remain upright as he strokes slowly in and out of me, in time with his fingers against my clit.
No one has ever been as good as him at taking care of my needs. Most men I find to be inherently selfish in the bedroom, but never him. He’s always put my pleasure above his own.
“More,” I beg. “Harder. I can take it. Please.”
“Fuck,” he curses.
I mewl when his fingers leave my clit, but he grabs ahold of my hips with both of his hands and fucks me just the way I wanted so he’s quickly forgiven.
“Are you close?” he asks.
“Almost,” I gasp.
The warmth of his body crowds mine, his lips like fire when he kisses my shoulder blade. “Take one hand off the window and touch yourself.”
I’ve never liked to be told what to do, but when it comes to Fisher, I don’t mind it at all—at least when it comes to the bedroom.
“I’m gonna come,” he warns me. “Tell me where you want me.”
“I-In my pussy,” I stutter. “Please. I want to be so full of you.”
“Ebba.” My name sounds like a curse and a plea all in one.
Gasping, my back arches as my orgasm hits. Fisher covers my mouth with his hand to stifle my scream.
He falls apart a moment later and the sounds of his moans nearly trigger another orgasm for me. There’s something about a man being vocal about his pleasure that has always enhanced mine.
Slowly, our breaths even out and he pulls away.
“Shower?” I ask.
He shakes his head and picks me up easily. “I’m not done with you yet. Not even close.”