Trophy Wife (The Dumont Diaries, #0.5-5)



Spark. I can’t kiss this man without my insides melting and my heart awakening. He deepens our kiss, his other hand stealing into my hair, tugging on the elastic band until my hair falls free. I grip his shirt, our mouths colliding in frantic passion. He pulls away, and I gasp for air. “Let’s go. I fucking need you right now.”


We hurry, my hand tight in his, up the stairs, through the casino, and into the elevator, where he takes me into his arms, my back against the wall, heart hammering in my chest. Then, the doors open, and a dozen steps later, we are in our suite.


I drop to my knees on the carpet, keeping him close, my mouth begging for a taste of his cock. He stops me, tugging on my arms, and I resist, looking up at him. “Nathan, I need this. Please. Sucking your cock has been on my mind for over an hour.”


He looks down at me, his face heavy in need. “Trust me, I’m not stopping you. Move in front of the mirror so I can watch.” He pulls me over until we are both before the large mirror, his hands unzipping and reaching into his pants, my heart leaping when all of him is before me.


Good Lord, he is magnificent. I move closer, devouring him with my eyes, barely feeling the tug of strings as Nathan undoes the ties that hold up my dress, the material pooling around my knees when he is done. I hold him in my hand, gently gripping it, feeling the skin move around hard bone, his breath inhaling sharply when I squeeze. I hold it up, the area around it neat and well-manicured, his obsession with control encompassing his nether regions as well, everything perfect, framing a package which I can’t stop thinking about.


I start at his base, trailing my tongue along the veins and bulges of his organ, my eyes glancing up to find him staring straight ahead into the mirror behind me, his hands gathering my hair, his expression strong and possessive. “God, I love … everything,” he groans, his eyes dropping to meet mine. “The curves of your back, the dimples above your ass … the feel of your wet tongue against my cock.”


My tongue reaches the lip of his head, swirling around the base, and then I take it in my mouth, sucking it in and out, my hand gripping and tugging on his shaft, each downward pump hitting his balls. I move my hands, placing them on his thighs, tugging his pants down until they hit the floor, my hands sliding back up his bare legs as my mouth takes him deeper, wet sucks taking him to the back of my throat. He takes a fistful of my hair, holding me still and taking over the motion, thrusting quickly, then slowly. I look up into his eyes as he slowly withdraws, my lips tight around his cock as it leaves my mouth.


“You will be the death of me,” he mutters, bending down and gripping my waist, lifting me easily up and walking me over to the bed. There, he repays me as we lay on our sides, facing each other. His mouth brushes my lips, kissing them softly, the hard length of him bumping tantalizingly against my legs as his fingers gently move over my pussy, teasing the velvet folds. My body arcs against him when he slips a crooked finger inside, a shot of electric pleasure that causes me to gasp, his mouth curving into a smile against my neck, as his finger brushes gently over the spot that was made for this. My inner walls contract and lubricate, the spot beneath his fingers swelling.


My fingers run down the planes of his body, traveling over the hard bone of his hip, moving down the V of his stomach until I reach my goal, my hands wrapping around him, my own mouth taking on a smile, my hand moving on its own accord, admiring the rigidness of his member as I explore its length. Our mouths find each other, a soft kiss turning deeper, our hands busy as we both move deeper into the sea of arousal.


I break the kiss, the intensity of my climax too great, my eyes clenching shut as my body tightens, a stream of words spilling from my mouth, the warm chuckle of Nathan only increasing the pleasure. My head drops back and I moan, a long guttural sound as sweet, pure intensity radiates out from deep inside of me, and it’s satisfaction of the most intense kind.


I am coming down from my high when his fingers stop, pulling out of me and I feel the wide girth of his head, pushing through my folds and thrusting inside, my wet hot center ready, expanding and contracting around him as he pushes deeper inside. I wrap my leg around him and he rolls, putting me on my back as his cock fully buries.


There, he takes control, his breath ragged as his cock sets a firm rhythm, his intensity taking me, as it always does, by surprise. Hard thrusts let me feel exactly how aroused he is, every stroke bringing a new burst of pleasure.


I have fucked Nathan countless times. Standing, sitting, bent over or on his lap. But never this completely, never without an emotional wall of some sort between us, constructed either by him or me. This time, as his cock thrusts, as our eyes lock and our bodies move as one, my wall crumbles down.


In this moment, he takes my heart as well as my body.


The last time I spent the night with Nathan was in Rosemary Beach. I was a stripper, he a mark. I was already asleep when he got into bed, and he was dressed and gone by the time I woke. There was no cuddling, or spooning, no sweet words whispered.


When I crawl into the sheets, I almost expect the same. I lay on one side, facing away from him, and will my expectations into place. When the bed dents, and he slides up behind me, I hold my breath.


“Turn over.”


I roll over, and he is there, gathering me against his chest, his leg hooking around mine, pulling me flush to him, and he gently lifts my head, sliding his arm underneath, until my cheek is against his chest, his heart thudding in my ear.


In the moments before his breathing deepens, his hold on me relaxing, it is perfection.


Forbidden. Impossible. Perfection.





IV





DO US PART





A woman’s desperation is most clearly spoken in a kiss.





CHAPTER 47





I sit next to Nathan, giving him a nervous smile.


He reaches over, looping his fingers through mine, tugging a hand free and planting a soft kiss on the back on it. “Relax,” he murmurs.


I try, letting out a breath and rolling my neck slightly to relieve the tension there.


“Mrs. Dumont!” The dark-skinned man strides up to me with a smile, reaching forward and enthusiastically shaking my hand. “I am Leo Brantling. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”


I match his smile, returning his handshake and gesturing to Nathan. “Mr. Brantling, this is Nathan Dumont.”


The man turns to Nathan with a smile, repeating the greeting ritual. “Come, come. Let’s step into my office.”


His office turns out to be a small glass cube, right off the lobby, two worn chairs in front of a crowded desk. I had envisioned riding an elevator, walking through ornate halls and lobbies until we reached a large corner office. I set down my purse and shift uncomfortably in the chair.