The Wrong Kind Of Desire
Nataliemy ex-husband is jealous againletter to my workaholic husbandquit job, gained clingy ex-bossi thought you were a time-limited husband
“Look me in the eye and tell me that’s just a game to you.”
“Julian… please,” I whimpered, my fingers clutched at his broad shoulders, my nails pushing into his skin, and his lower body moving toward me. His desire was thick and stiff and hard through his trousers, pressing up my spine toward the apex of my thighs; a violent shock of pure pleasure. “You’re going to destroy me.”
“Let it burn,” he growled, his hand sliding down my belly, his long, calloused fingers tearing my thighs apart with an aggressive, needy desperation. He pulled at my lace panties as if he was desperate and ripped them down my legs, and my breath stopped.