Pinch of Naughty by Gem Sivad

her vulnerable flesh with one hard thrust.
    “Goddamn that’s good,” he groaned, looking into dazed eyes as she stared over her shoulder at him. He pushed her hair aside so he could see her expression better as he fucked her. “Watch,” he ordered her.
    Her emissions coated his cock, making it easy to piston hard and fast. Each thrust went deeper. He pushed her legs wider, hauling her ass higher at the same time he growled, “Don’t look away.”
    She obeyed, her lips falling open, her panted breaths mingling with his groans. Jesus God, he couldn’t get enough of her. He pulled her to the edge of the bed and growled, “Now give it to me again. Come for me, baby, while I ride you home.”
    She pressed her face into the covers, stifling her cries as he pumped into her from behind, rubbing the nubbin of nerves at her apex until she shattered. When he ran his thumb down her crack and stroked her rosebud, her channel clenched tighter, her orgasm pulsing and milking his dick.
    Cyrus released, spilling into the tight material gloving him, only regretting that he wasn’t shooting his seed into the sweet woman he rode.
    “Damned if you don’t pull it out of a man, Ellie.” His hips moved in short, hard, jarring thrusts before he collapsed sideways and groaned.
    Eventually he stripped off the rubber, threw it in the can by the bed, pulled a sheet over Eleanor, doused the light and curled around her ready to sleep. He was almost under when he felt her inching toward the edge of the mattress. His hand snaked out and caught her arm.
    “Stay put,” he told her. “I’ll want seconds soon.”
    “Impossible,” she groaned. “I have to rest.”
    “Guess your old man wasn’t good for more than one a night, huh?” Cyrus could think of a lot more things he wanted to do before he slept.
    “Fifty-four,” she mumbled.

Chapter Five
     
    “Fifty-four what?” The number hung there in the air between them until he couldn’t stand it any longer. “What kind of marathon are you claiming?”
    “We had marital relations fifty-four times.”
    “Must have been a hell of a party.”
    “During our marriage, over the five years we were wed, we had relations fifty-four times—once a month, until the last six months—when we had none.” She suddenly wasn’t too tired to set him straight as she clarified using precise words.
    He rolled over, fumbled with the light, and stared at her. Eleanor’s hands were plucking the sheet nervously.
    Cyrus remained silent, trying to figure out why in the hell Eleanor’s man hadn’t been fucking her senseless three times a day—morning, noon and all night—like he planned to. When he said nothing, she went on.
    “We slept in separate bedrooms. I never saw him unclothed. Never. Decent men and women don’t comport themselves in carnal behavior.”
    “Is that right?” he drawled. “What if a man isn’t decently inclined?”
    “It is a married woman’s duty to keep her husband on a righteous path. I failed.” Prim and proper to the last, she repeated what she knew as fact.
    “If that be the case, I’m glad I’ve escaped the noose.” Cyrus blew out the light and curled around her again. “I can assure you, your man didn’t find anything better than you. Now go to sleep.” Her breathing became less agitated, gradually matching his as he rubbed his face against her hair and spooned around her.
    He’d already figured out that his widowed housekeeper had less experience than most second-day brides. His uneasy feelings were tempered with smug satisfaction. Guess I’ll have to teach her how to please a man.
    The second time they coupled during the night left them both panting and exhausted. Under cover of darkness, Eleanor lost the rest of her inhibitions, writhing under him, matching her rhythm to his and holding on when the going got rough.
    When Cyrus came, collapsing with a groan, he patted her hip and rolled to his side of the bed.
    “Good night, Mr. Burke.” Eleanor turned