“I hope you’re not attached to your clothes, Mrs. Cullen. They will not survive.” I whimpered, my panties flooding with my desire. “There will be no part of you that will not be reclaimed as mine, Isabella.”
Fuck, my possessive, horny husband. I loved it when he was like this. It was very rare that Edward was like this, but when he was, we had the most amazing, toe-curling, earth-shattering and mind-numbing sex.
He shut off the car, getting out and helping me out of the passenger seat. Pressing me against the car, Edward lifted me easily. My legs wrapped around his waist and I latched on around his neck. Striding away from the vehicle, he carried me to the garage entrance into our kitchen. Inside of our home, he spun me to balance me against the door. “I want you,” he purred, kissing my neck.
“God,” I moaned.
“I need you,” he continued, his lips never leaving my skin as he unbuttoned my winter coat. “I desire you in a way that I’ve never desired you, my Bella. My precious love.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I hissed, rocking against his growing arousal.
“But not against the garage door,” he snickered, putting me on my feet. Tugging on my hands, he led me to our living room. He shrugged out of his fatigue jacket. His t-shirt hugged his body like a second skin, displaying his well-toned and muscular torso. Spinning quickly, he crashed his lips against mine, pulling off my coat. I was pinned between my needy husband and the wall. His fingers were dancing along my hem of my t-shirt, a red shirt with a picture of Little Ralphie from A Christmas Story with the phrase saying ‘You’ll shoot your eye out.’ He tore my shirt from my body, revealing my very plain white bra. “God damn, you’re perfect,” he growled, cupping my breasts with his calloused hands.