The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 83

Chapter 55-1

Locke guides me backward onto the wide bed.

He catches both of my wrists in one palm, lifting them above my head until the cuffs click shut around the posts.

The restraint tugs just enough to stretch my arms, my breasts lifting with the motion, n*****s tightening in the cooler air.

“Trust me, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as he sheds his own clothes, revealing that towering, tattooed body to my heated gaze. “I’m not going to hurt you – I never will.”

“I know,” I say breathlessly, my body arching instinctively. “You don’t lie to me.”

Locke doesn’t rush. He trails his fingers down my arms, over the swell of my breasts, pausing to tease my hardened n*****s before continuing lower, his gentle touch tickling the curves of my stomach, my hips.

He parts my legs with a possessive grip, then kneels between them, and presses his mouth to the inside of my thigh. Not where I want him. Inches away from where I want him.

“Locke.”

“Mmmm….”

“You’re being very irritating,” I say. “You’re always so -”

His tongue flattens against my clit.

The words die in my throat.

My hips buck helplessly, and his massive forearm comes down across my pelvis, pinning me in place with casual authority. The restraint – both the cuffs and the weight of his arm – amplifies everything.

I can’t shift away from the pressure, but I also can’t chase it. I can only lie here while he licks into me with slow, devastating precision, his mouth exploring the topography of my cunt like he plans to draw a map of it later.

“There,” I manage to groan. “Right… there…”

He adjusts the angle by a fraction of a degree. His tongue curls. My vision whitens at the edges.

The sounds in the room are obscene, wet and deliberate, punctuated by the creak of the bed as I pull against the cuffs and the rough catch of my breathing.

Locke works my cunt with the same thoroughness he applies to everything, identifying pressure points and exploiting them ruthlessly.

Two fingers slide inside my p***y and crook forward, and I make a noise I’ve never heard myself make before, something between a sob and a curse.

“That’s a new sound,” he says against me, the vibration of his voice traveling straight up my tingling spine.” What the fuck was that, Zara?”

1/3

Chapte

“Don’t stop,” I say in a strangled voice. “Please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

Clam

His mouth returns to my begging slit. His fingers find a rhythm: deep, steady, the heel of his palm grinding against my clit on every thrust. The dual sensation is so unrelenting that lose the ability to form words somewhere around the ninety-second mark.

Time goes syrupy, and the ceiling becomes fascinating in its blankness, a white expanse I stare at while my body coils tighter and tighter, the tension almost unbearable, a wire drawn so thin it hums.

“Look at me,” he says now. “Eyes on me, Zara.”

I drag my gaze down.

Locke’s eyes meet mine over the plane of my straining stomach, storm-gray and intent, his mouth slick with my arousal. He holds the eye contact as he lowers his head again, as he sucks my clit between his lips with exactly the right pressure, as his fingers press deeper in exactly the right place, and –

The wire snaps. Hard.

My back arches off the mattress, the cuffs bite into my wrists, a bright point of pain that only sharpens the dizzying pleasure crashing through me.

I hear myself grate out his name, or maybe something less coherent, and his arm stays heavy across my hips, grounding me as the waves ripple outward from my cunt to my fingertips, to my curled toes.

Only when the last aftershocks fade does he ease back, pressing a soft kiss to my inner thigh, his breath hot against my oversensitive skin.

He slowly withdraws his fingers from my pulsing p***y and licks them clean.

He rises over me now, his eyes locked on mine with that hungry intensity that always makes my breath catch, his lips glistening and his jaw set with controlled need. The heat of his body radiates against my flushed skin as he grips my legs, lifting my lower body effortlessly to drape my calves over his broad shoulders, folding me open for him.

He leans in, the blunt head of his huge c**k nudging against my entrance, teasing the swollen folds still sensitive from his tongue.

I feel every inch of him – thick, hot, and rigid – as he pushes forward slowly, stretching my p***y with a deliberate slide that draws a whimper from my throat.

The angle is deep, his shoulders pinning my legs back so I’m completely exposed and impaled, the cuffs biting just enough to remind me I’m at his mercy.

Locke groans low, his hips rolling in a steady thrust that builds friction without rush, his hands gripping my waist to hold me steady as he sinks deeper.

Tension coils tighter in my core with every measured stroke, his c**k dragging against that sensitive spot inside me, making my clit throb and my breath come in shallow, begging gasps.

He fucks me like he wants to break me apart and put me back together.

22

Chapter 55.

Cleits

Larch what little I can, feeling the power in his thighs flexing against mine, the slap of skin and our mingled moans filling the space as he fucks me harder but holding back, driving the edge higher, higher. Higher.

“Look at you, so fucking perfect like this,” he growls. “All spread open and dripping around my c**k, taking it like you were made for it,”

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