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But I took note of her excitement as I prowled closer, liking that she liked me being rough. I took note and stored it away next to the soft moan I’d heard when I’d spanked her weeks ago.

“Nico?” she asked, her words breathy and unsure.

“It’s my wedding night,” I explained, stripping my shirt before working on my pants. “At the very least, I’d like to come. Now, stay put while I jack off.”

Her eyes widened, tracking down my body, almost panting by the time I pulled my pants down far enough to free my length. I moaned, and her eyes snapped back up to mine. I raised a brow, half expecting her to tell me to fuck off and bolt—ready to pack it all back up if she really wanted me to. Instead, she rose to the occasion and clenched her jaw, lifting her stubborn chin like a dare. She leaned back on her elbows, pushing her pert breasts out, and I craved to fall over and suck on them until they were rosy and so tender that the softest brush of air would set her off.

I moaned again, giving myself another rough stroke. Unable to help herself, she watched. And I watched her.

I squeezed up my shaft and around the head, using my thumb to smear the precum leaking from the tip. “You can still have this inside you,” I offered one last time. “I can remind you how good it felt.”

She swallowed but held strong. “No.” Her denial, weak and needy.

“Fine.”

With one hand rolling my balls, I stroked myself faster and harder, taking in her sleek skin. She squirmed and panted, her hard nipples begging for attention. Every once in a while, she’d part her thighs just enough to give me a glimpse of her smooth folds under the sheer fabric, the scent of her arousal hitting me like an aphrodisiac.

“Just because I’m not fucking you, doesn’t mean you can’t get off. Feel free to play with your pretty pussy.”

Her tongue slicked across her supple lips, and I held my breath, praying for her to say yes. Instead, she snapped her jaw shut and shook her head, continuing to pant and writhe on the bed.

“I’ve had to do this more since I’ve met you than when I was a teenager. Every morning, I go to the shower and remember your soft wet pussy on my tongue. I remember the way you bent over and let me feast on you. The way you rubbed your cunt on my face as you came. I remember how tight you were. How I had to wedge my fat cock between your swollen lips and ease in. I remember the way your cum slid down my cock and coated my balls as I played with your tits.”

“Nico,” she moaned.

The desperation in just my name raced down my spine, and I knew I was about to come.

“I remember the way you cried out as you pulsed around me, milking the cum from my cock.”

With that memory and watching her strong thighs rubbing together for friction, I came. Cupping the head, I worked my hand faster, jerking every last drop of pleasure from my body. Goose bumps spread across my skin, pulling it too tight as wave after wave hit me. With a few more slow swipes, I calmed, focusing on Vera. She laid back, breathing just as hard as me, a flush working its way down her neck.

Good.

“I’m going to clean up. Feel free to join me.”

A swirl of need and anger raged behind her caramel eyes, and I added fuel to the fire by smirking before disappearing into the bathroom. I imagined the anger was directed as much at her own stubborn pride as it was at me.

Not surprisingly, she didn’t join me in the shower. I wrapped the towel around my body and walked out to find her lounging in a small silk and lace nightgown.

“Did you wear that just for me?” I taunted.

She didn’t bother to look up from the magazine she flipped through. “Hardly. Raelynn packed it for me.”

“Did she pack all your lingerie?” I asked, both hopeful and worried at the same time. If she had a nightgown like the one currently riding up her thigh and doing nothing to hide the hard points underneath, then I was going to die a slow death over the next two weeks of our honeymoon.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” she taunted.

She never looked up directly, but I felt the way she tracked me around the edge of the bed. She wanted to torture me. Well, two could play that game.

Standing by the bed, watching for her reaction, I dropped the towel.

“What the hell?” she practically screeched.

Pleased that she couldn’t take her eyes off my cock as I climbed in bed beside her, I smirked. “I’m your husband now, so the kid-gloves are off, and I sleep in the nude. Feel free to join me.”


Tags: Fiona Cole Blame it on the Alcohol Romance