Page 14 of Bride Bargain

“Fuck,” Elliot says, the word tingling against my clit. He’s not holding back at all, not tip-toeing in, and when I catch a glimpse of his cheeks—half his face is shiny with my slick. “Claire. My Claire.Fuck.”

My breaths are shallow, and I whimper, grinding myself against Elliot’s mouth. He grunts and gets back to work, licking and sucking and laving, his dark hair tickling my inner thighs.

His long, thick finger breaches me without warning, sliding past my entrance, and I let out a cry and arch off the sofa. Down between my legs, his ring finger presses inside me, the metal band gleaming in the dim room, and humor sparks when I meet Elliot’s gaze.

He raises an eyebrow. I wheeze out a laugh.

Because this is nuts. So ridiculous and crazy andhot, and everything he’s doing feels so good, and I never, ever want it to end. Never want reality to crash back in; never want to have to stand on these shaky legs and shuffle my way to the bathroom to clean up. I’d rather live in this moment, perfectly preserved, with Elliot Ramsay’s mouth on me forever, his ring finger pumping inside me and lighting up my nerve endings.

My hips roll, humping the air, but I’m too far gone to be embarrassed. Elliot latches onto my clit and sucks hard, and my howl bounces off the living room walls.

I clamp down on his ring finger.

I shudder and pant and come so hard my vision wavers.

Then I collapse back onto my boss’s sofa in a sweaty, flushed heap.

Six

Elliot

I’ve never been a fan of messy activities, but go ahead and add ‘Eating Claire Montgomery’s pussy’ to the list of my reasons for living. Holy fuck.

Her slick, warm folds… the desperate little sounds she made… the way she tugged on my hair so hard my scalp prickled, her whole body writhing against the sofa…

It was the best kind of sensory overload. And yes, I’m going to need to do that again, preferably every day of my life. As I sit back on my heels, knees aching where they dig into the floorboards, and wipe my mouth on my wrist—I’m already hungry for more.

“Again?” I rasp, rolling my stiff neck. Okay: maybe a glass of water first, then I’m ready. Or maybe I’ll say to hell with it, and dehydrate.

Claire chokes out a laugh, her arms tossed over her reddened face. She’s sprawled inelegantly over the sofa cushions, braid mussed and limbs flopped out to the sides. Her pussy is stillbared to the living room air, pink and swollen and salty and so damndelicious.

When I lick my lips, I taste Claire. My whole body hums happily in response.

I need more.

More of her throaty moans and her hands in my hair; more of her body rolling against my tongue. More of her taste and scent saturating my skin, my hair, my clothes, until Claire Montgomery seeps into every cell of my body.

Obsessive? I suppose you could call me that. Plenty of people have.

Though personally, I preferdedicated.

But when I lean forward for round two, gripping a wonderfully plump thigh in each hand, Claire sits up and bats me away, saying, “No no no, don’t you dare! Too sensitive. Way, way too sensitive.”

With Claire propped up on her elbows, we stare at each other for a long moment. It’s the first time we’ve made eye contact since my mouth was on her clit, and I could stare at this woman forever.

But my hackles rise when I see caution building in her gaze. I raise an eyebrow, questioning.

Claire smiles weakly, but it wavers.

My heart lurches, thumping faster.

No. No, this is wrong.

“You liked it,” I say, and my tone is way too hard. Accusatory. She stiffens in response. “Youbeggedme, Claire.”

My baffling new wife presses her lips together and nods. “I did.”

“So why…”

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