The Wife He Buried Alive novel · Chapter 13 of 32

Chapter 13: Overruled

He went into me slowly, and I felt every inch of it.

I arched off the sheet and said his name.

He stopped when he was all the way in, and his whole body shook above me.

"Don't move," he said. "Give me a second."

"No."

"Linnea."

"Four years, Winston. I don't want a second."

I hooked my heels behind his thighs and pulled him deeper.

He made a low sound in his chest, and his control went.

He drew back and drove into me hard enough to move me up the bed.

I cried out, and my hands found the headboard.

"That's it," he said. "Hold on to that."

He fucked me with long, deep strokes, his hips snapping against mine.

Each time he bottomed out, the heel of him ground against my clit, and my thighs began to shake.

I had forgotten this.

I had forgotten how he filled me, and how he watched my face the whole time.

"Look at me," he said again.

"I am looking."

"Keep looking."

He got a hand under my knee and folded my leg up against his ribs.

The angle changed, and I screamed.

"There," he said, rough. "That's the spot. I remember."

"Then don't stop."

"I'm not going to stop."

He did not slow down once.

The slap of skin filled the room, and the bed knocked against the wall.

I raked my nails down his back, and he hissed and went harder.

"Hands to yourself," he said against my ear. His voice was shredded. "Isn't that what you told me?"

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