Rich and Ready

CHAPTER SIX

Birdie knew she needed to stop, but she just couldn't. All thoughts of her husband slipped her mind entirely when locked in his embrace.

Their lips melded together, both of them breathing out their nose strongly in relief.

His hands roamed from her ass, up her back to her neck, tangling in her hair. He gave it a light tug to gain access to her neck.

His stubbled prickled so good, down her jaw to her neck as she attempted to pull him in closer.

She needed him as close as possible.

Much to her dismay, he pulled away. Though he stayed close, his hands on either side of her face as he stared down intently to her.

"We can't do this." He spoke assertively, squeezing his eyes shut, as if he wouldn't be able to say those words while looking at her.

"No, we can't." She agreed, but neither of them made any move to pull away.

Instead, like a moth to a flame she gripped his shirt and pressed her lips to his again. He guided her down on the couch, never straying far.

They kissed passionately, full of desire like she'd never experienced before. He was on top of her now and she found herself craving his touch. This could get dangerous.

He pulled away again, looking down to her disheveled frame, her lips pink and puffy, breathing staccato.

"This is wrong." He grumbled so deep she nearly felt it.

"It is, but I-I don't care." She was finally being honest with herself. She would take what she so desperately wanted.

He sighed shakily, his eyes closing as she ran her hands across his shoulders and down his chest. He struggled to hold himself back from her.

"You're married." That she was, but she really didn't care right now.

"I don't care, I want you."

"You're too young." He tried to reason softly, but he wasn't sure if it was with her or himself at this point.

"I'm twenty-three. I'm an adult, and I know what I want."

"And what's that? Because you thought you wanted to get married. You thought you wanted to move across the country." She frowned, frustrated that he was questioning her so much.

"Don't you want me, Mr. Courtemanche?" She blinked up at him, and his eyes grew dark.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Mrs. Levitt. I don't think you're making a wise decision." Her fingers trailed down his hard abs, to the waistband of his joggers. He gasped, shuddering at her touch.

"Do you even know how old I am?" He tried again.

"I don't care."

"I'm fucking forty!" She only shook her head, and he continued, "You're going to regret this."

"He doesn't make me this wet, Mr. Courtemanche..." He made a strangled sound at the back of his throat, swallowing thickly.

"Don't," he breathed in deeply, "don't say things like that..."

"Touch me." She whimpered.

"Fuck." He palmed her breast in his hand, as she arched her back into his touch.

"I can't...I won't be able to hold back anymore, Birdie. You need to...need to go." But he didn't let go of her breast, instead he placed kisses upon her collarbone.

"...so soft..." He whispered along her skin, causing goosebumps to arise.

She said nothing, her hands fisting his shirt tightly, scared he would run away again.