Lusting For The Wrong Alpha
He rips her clothes off her, dragging her toward the bed.
I watch, unable to look away, memories of Evander’s hands on my skin flooding back. The way my body stupidly responded to his touches, how I ached for more. The way I felt desired, even if only for a moment.
The husband lays her on the bed and begins sucking her tiny nipple while she touches herself, her fingers circling her clit. Her hips buck, breath coming in short.
“What’s she doing?” I whisper, voice barely audible.
“Touching herself, of course,” Williams replies, amused.
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