Page 26 of Game Day

"Spread your legs, Pink. I want dessert.”

She bites her lip but does what I say. I reach for the champagne flute.

"You wouldn't…"

I hook a finger in the panel of her thong and yank it to the side so I can pour champagne over her pussy. I follow it with my fingers, the stickiness of the wine mixing with her arousal.

I want to suck every drop off her skin.

My eyes hold hers prisoner as I lower my mouth.

The second I lick her, she arches against my tongue with a breathy moan.

“Oh my God.”

Her fingers grip my hair, desperation in her grasp.

My fiancée and I have a game when I’m going down on her.

I know she likes how much bigger I am than her, and I don’t hate it either.

How full I make her just from my fingers, the way she squirms on me to tell me I’m on the right track.

I’m going to put everything from earlier out of her beautiful head.

There are perks to being my wife.

I’ll remind her all fucking night of them.

I enjoy teasing her with my tongue, adding another finger until she can’t take any more.

“Dammit, don’t we have a safe word?” she pants.

“You want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

I pull back long enough to yank my shirt over my head with one hand. She's already dragging off my sweats.

I brace a hand next to her head and shift over her. If I put my full weight on this table, it could break. But when my cock finds its home between her spread thighs, she feels too damned good to go easy.

I sink inside, and the feel of her body's welcome and resistance at once makes me shudder.She's tight and slick and mine.

I thrust long and slow, the rhythm making us both groan. The lights overhead send gold sparks dancing in her eyes.

“You feel fucking perfect,” I murmur against her throat.

Damn, I want only her, like this, for hours.

She arches into my lips, my body. Her need fuels mine.

I change the angle to get more friction and grind against her clit, the way I know drives her wild.

“Oh God, Clay,” she whispers.

I grin against her shoulder. My lips skim her skin as I inhale the scent of her, of us together.

The city on the other side of the dining room windows is a million dots of color, the mountains invisible in the low light. All I care about is what’s happening in here.

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