The Reckless Secret

By: Alexa Wilder



“Good girl,” he said, thrusting those fingers in and out of her at a steady, deep pace. “My beautiful wife.” She moaned, pushed her face down in the bedspread, took his assault on her sex as she listened to the sounds of his clothes rustling…

Then she felt the unmistakable press of his cock against her, and she whimpered, spread her legs wider, her anticipation of it lighting her up on the inside.

But he didn’t push into her, not yet. He removed his fingers and rubbed the head of his cock through her folds, up and down, over her clit, until she’d soaked him with her juices and her hips were shaking, and she was so desperate to be filled that she sobbed and said, “Please, Declan…” and wasn’t even irritated that he’d made her beg in the end, she’d beg for hours if she had to—

“Shh,” he said, reaching forward to gather her hair and drape it over one shoulder. He leaned down, kissed the side of her exposed neck, fondled her breasts as he teased her pussy with his bare cock. His skin was burning heat, his movements a little stilted, obvious signs that he was as affected as she was…barely holding onto his control…

“I need to go get something,” he whispered to her, lips against her throat. “I’ll be right back.”

“No.” She grabbed his wrist, held him close against her, heart hammering as her mind spun. “No.” It was a knee-jerk decision, but one she wanted so badly. “Don’t…”

He hesitated. “You don’t want me to use—”

“No,” she said again, like a mantra. “Declan, please.” She squeezed her eyes shut, pushed her hips back against him, made him bite off a groan.

“You know what this might mean,” he said, his voice strained and raw, and she nodded.

She knew it, and there wasn’t one single part of her that wanted to prevent it. If they created something out of this night, if they ever created something so special together, she’d be the happiest woman alive.

“Please,” she whispered again, and he drew in a deep, shuddery breath.

“God, I love you,” he said fiercely, then pulled her face to the side so he could press a bruising kiss to her mouth.

Then he released her lips, lined himself up, and entered her.

The bareness of it, the rawness, took her breath away, and she found herself hurtling towards the edge with barely any movement from him. She’d never felt so close to someone, so connected, so deeply ingrained in the existence of another person, and she couldn’t control her emotions, her feelings, her pleasure…

He rocked into her with stuttering thrusts and held her tight, his own moans choking out of him, and she had to hold the headboard, hold onto something, pleasure spiraling higher and higher within her and making her sob with it, real tears falling from her eyes at the perfection of this moment, joined so intensely with the man she loved—

Orgasm hit her like a freight train, and she screamed, clenched the headboard, heard him somewhere in the vague edges of her consciousness as he joined her in this moment of ecstasy, his hips jolting as pleasure overtook him, as she floated on a crest of bliss, tumbled over it and collapsed, shuddering, breathless.

He took her hand, shaking, linking their fingers together, and their wedding rings connected. A symbol of their unity, of their lives shared forever.

Maggie didn’t even know it was possible to be so happy, and her heart swelled with emotional joy as Declan pulled her close into the curve of his body, still buried inside her, still connected so deeply, and murmured, “I love you, Mrs. Archibald.”

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