Dominic’s hand didn’t pull away. Instead those two thick fingers pressed forward, slow and deliberate, sinking into the wet heat of my cunt until the knuckles of his remaining fingers brushed my clit. A low, guttural sound tore from his chest. He stared down at where he was already inside me—his son’s wife, naked and dripping in the hallway—and the look on his face was pure possession.

“Jesus Christ, Alessia.” His voice was gravel and smoke. “You’re soaked. Fucking dripping down my wrist.”

I rolled my hips, forcing him deeper. “Because I’ve been empty for two years. Because every time you looked at me across the table I got wet....