The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 122

Chapter 72-2

Clam

As the climax subsides, whisper breathlessly, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to. I should have waited, or asked.”

My voice trembles with the remnants of pleasure, cheeks burning hotter under his gaze.

He smoothes my hair back from my flushed cheeks, his touch tender now, and leans down to kiss me deeply, his lips claiming mine with a slow intensity that makes my heart ache.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against my mouth, his breath warm and steady. “I loved it, watching you lose control like that.” A faint smile curves his lips as he adds, “But now it’s my turn.

He shifts his hips without warning, driving his c**k into me in one deep, forceful thrust that buries him to the hilt.

I cry out sharply, the sudden stretch and fullness tearing another gasp from my throat as my walls clench around his thick length.

He sets a relentless pace, fucking me hard against the floor, each powerful stroke rocking my body and sending sparks of overstimulation through my still-sensitive nerves.

My legs tighten around him instinctively, nails raking down his back as the slap of skin and our mingled moans fill the air, as he claims me completely, his dominance pulling me under all over again.

I moan beneath him, my p***y still fluttering from the first orgasm as it clenches greedily around him, the overstimulation sparking sharp pleasure that borders on pain and makes my back arch off the carpet. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider as he drives into me relentlessly, each stroke grinding against my swollen clit and sending fresh waves of heat flooding through my core.

He groans low in his throat, his pace faltering as his c**k swells impossibly thicker inside me, the head dragging against my sensitive inner walls with bruising force. I feel him tense, muscles locking as he pushes inside one final time, his release surging hot and thick, pulsing deep within me in rhythmic spurts that fill me to overflowing.

The sensation triggers my second orgasm with sudden violence. My p***y spasms wildly around him, milking every drop as pleasure detonates through my body.

My vision blurs, thighs quaking uncontrollably around his waist, nails digging crescent marks into his skin while a scream tears from my throat. The room tilts and fades, darkness swallowing the edges of my sight as the intensity peaks, leaving me floating in a void of pure sensation, utterly lost to him.

He stays buried inside me through the aftershocks, his weight a grounding anchor as my body trembles and slowly returns, the black haze receding to reveal his face above mine, eyes dark with satisfaction and something tender.

“Come back to me,” he whispers, his voice a soft rasp against my lips as he leans in to kiss me, slow and lingering, “Come back, baby.”

His c**k softens inside me as our mingled releases seep warm between my thighs. I feel the sob rise unbidden, my chest hitching as tears spill hot down my cheeks, the intensity of everything crashing over me in a fresh wave.

Chapter 72-2-

He gathers me close without hesitation, rolling us gently so I’m cradled against his chest, his arms wrapping around me like a shield as he murmurs into my hair, “I’ve got you. You’re okay, Zara. I’m right here.”

The words wrap around the raw-edges inside me, his hand rubbing slow circles along my spine while my tears soak his skin, each shuddering breath drawing out the last tremors from my climax until I’m spent and clinging to him.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm against my ear. “So beautiful like this, all flushed and open and totally mine. I loved watching you touch yourself, the way your fingers worked that pretty p***y, how you held back until you couldn’t anymore. It made me so proud of you, seeing you give in completely like that.”

The words sink into me like a balm, easing the last tremors from my limbs, and I tilt my head to press a kiss to his chest, tasting salt and the faint trace of our shared heat.

He hums in approval, the sound vibrating through both of us, and his hand drifts down to cup my hip in a possessive hold.

“It’s bedtime for good girls,” he says softly, the command laced with affection rather than steel. “Up you get.”

With a slow, careful shift, he pulls out of me, the wet glide of his softening c**k leaving me empty and aching in the best way, our mingled release trickling warm down my thigh. He rises to his feet in one fluid motion, his hand extends down to me, palm open and steady. I take it, letting him pull me up into his arms.

And he leads me into the bedroom, the carpet giving way to a wooden floor that’s cool beneath my bare feet and the promise of sleep wrapping around us like another layer of his care.

“Chemo tomorrow,” I say, a catch in my voice. “So… back to puking in your kitchen sink.”

“Oh, baby,” he says, in that warm voice, the one that makes my toes curl and my p***y flutter. “You’ll be puking in our kitchen sink.”

And despite everything, and my approaching worry, and a sense of rising dread, I still laugh.

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