Back Badly Behaved
Chapters (45)
  1. Copyright
  2. Playlist
  3. Dedication
  4. Synopsis
  5. Chapter 1
  6. Chapter 2
  7. Chapter 3
  8. Chapter 4
  9. Chapter 5
  10. Chapter 6
  11. Chapter 7
  12. Chapter 8
  13. Chapter 9
  14. Chapter 10
  15. Chapter 11
  16. Chapter 12
  17. Chapter 13
  18. Chapter 14
  19. Chapter 15
  20. Chapter 16
  21. Chapter 17
  22. Chapter 18
  23. Chapter 19
  24. Chapter 20
  25. Chapter 21
  26. Chapter 22
  27. Chapter 23
  28. Chapter 24
  29. Chapter 25
  30. Chapter 26
  31. Chapter 27
  32. Chapter 28
  33. Chapter 29
  34. Chapter 30
  35. Chapter 31
  36. Chapter 32
  37. Chapter 33
  38. Chapter 34
  39. Chapter 35
  40. Epilogue
  41. Note From the Author
  42. More From The Author
  43. Ways to Stay Connected
  44. Acknowledegments
  45. About the Author

I let my arms fall back, gliding them along the material as I inhale deeply, enjoying the feel of my man on top of me.

He senses it, the heavy sense of contentment warming my blood in this moment, and his touch grows featherlight, skating along my sides to my cheeks.

He holds me there, and I stretch my arm and fingers, clicking on the wall fireplace beside us.

The flickering of the blue flames illuminates half his face, and it reminds me of that night on the balcony when he first claimed me as his.

I was, am, and will forever be.

The corner of his mouth lifts and a sigh leaves me.

“I love you, Ransom Rossi.”

His cock aligns with my entrance, and as he brings his mouth to mine, he pushes inside of me. “I love you, Trouble.”

As his head reaches its fullest point, my back lifts from the carpet, and I pull my legs up and over his hips.

His free palm glides under my ass and he lifts me up, angling me as he likes, my ass an inch from the floor.

“Roll those hips for me, baby,” he rasps, pressing his lips to mine.

I tear at his hair, forcing his mouth to my chest, tortured by his slow movements while savoring every moment.

In the bedroom, when Ransom is in control, I know I’m in for a long, drawn-out, core-deep orgasm. The kind that builds and builds, making you shake and sweat and beg incoherently, and then explodes a fraction of a second later. The kind that takes over your body and locks every inch of it in place.

He’s always liked it slow and deliberate, every twist and curl of his body purposeful and pleasure-seeking.

I love it as it’s allowed me to memorize every ridge of his cock, every arch of every muscle in his body, as he has mine.

It’s when I’m flipped onto my knees, tugged or climbing onto his lap that things get a little wild.

In every aspect of our lives, he’s the half that makes me whole.

My muscles begin to tense and my mind grows hazy.

I moan into the air and he growls against my skin.

“Come for me, my wife,” he whispers, his hips gliding in slow, and slamming as he reaches the hilt, driving himself deeper.

My pussy squeezes around him and he chuckles, his mouth coming up to take mine.

His brows crash as he comes, hard and long and he kisses me, panting in my mouth as I cry into his.

I accept his weight as it falls on me, but he only lets me rest a few moments before he flips us, and I’m dead weight on top of him.

He pushes himself so he’s sitting up and uses his teeth to remove the pasties from my nipples, pulling them into his mouth quickly.