Page 61 of First Comes Marriage

He pulled her against him, one hand curled around the nape of her neck and the other gripping her waist as he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was urgent and a little angry, like every kiss they’d shared, and he wondered if it would always be like this—bruising and needy and so damn good.

But even as she melted against him, even as she flicked her tongue against his and arched her body closer to his, somewhere in the back of his mind a dim little voice tsked and reminded him that words like ‘always’ didn’t apply to them. They didn’t have ‘always.’ They had now, until Christmas, until she didn’t need him anymore. And there was something seriously fucked about how hard that made him, how desperate he was to take everything she’d give him for every minute that he could, to suck every last drop of good out of their time together before she decided she’d had enough. Maybe if he did, he could save up enough of this feeling to last after she was gone.

He kissed across her cheekbone, trailed his tongue down the line of her throat and sucked on the tender skin on the underside of her jaw. “That’s right, baby,” he crooned against her skin when she whimpered. “So tell me where the fucking lie is.”

He was burning up with the sudden, unmistakable need to show her how right she was, that shewashis, and that he’d be hers if only she’d let him. To touch her and taste her and claim her for himself. The need mixed with anger, a tight, hot swirl in his gut clawing up his throat, reminding him how fucking stupid he was to let himself feel anything for this woman, how much better off he’d be if he could let it be about nothing more than sex.

He hooked her knee with one hand and lifted her leg over his own, the frilly skirt of her sundress draping over the emptyspace between her legs. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thigh, and her knees fell apart, an invitation that felt like a trap.

“Are you wet for me, wildflower?” he asked against her ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and tugging gently. She gasped at the sting of his bite and rocked her hips against the air, his hand sliding an inch higher, disappearing completely beneath her skirt now. “Have you been a good wife and kept this pussy ready for me?”

Her head fell back with a groan, but he held her in place with that hand on her nape, his lips whispering all manner of filth against her throat. “Touch me,” she whispered, her hips moving mindlessly as he traced circles ever higher on the inside of her thigh.

“Dirty girl.” He wasn’t sure if it was praise or admonishment, but whatever it was, she liked it, her green eyes sinking into darkness. Some foolish thing that felt an awful lot like pride bloomed in his chest.

He slid his hand higher, his fingers finally brushing against the damp gusset of her panties. He traced the edge of the fabric with a single finger, then slid them to the side. She shivered in his arms as the night air met her exposed skin. It took all his self restraint not to flip up that frilly little skirt and let himself see her, wet and swollen and goddamn perfect. But it was one thing to play with her in public, to move his hand between her legs where no one could see, even if they might suspect, and quite another to risk someone else glimpsing the heaven beneath her skirt. No, that view was just for him.

“I’m still waiting for an answer, Sabrina,” he said in a low warning tone as he slid one finger over her slit. He settled the pad of his finger against her clit, stroking in slow, small circles the way she’d shown him the other night. She released a shuddering breath and captured his mouth again, but he pulled away with a nip on her lower lip. “What exactly is the lie? You’re my wife.”

He increased the pressure of his circles, wanting to make her come hard and fast, to force her to the edge of her own pleasure before she could really get her arms around it, to steal her orgasm from her the way she was stealing his heart—unexpected and sharp and a little bit wrong and somehow still so good he couldn’t stop.

“This is your husband’s hand fucking you.” He plunged two fingers into her opening and curled them against her front wall as his thumb continued to work her clit. “I’m the one who’s going to make you come, here, with all these people around.”

Her inner muscles fluttered around his fingers and he nearly came in his pants like an inexperienced teenager. He swore under his breath and fucked her harder, faster, the obscene sounds of her pleasure as he pumped his fingers in and out mixing with the distant laughter and carnival music floating up to them from the ground.

“You like when I touch you like this?” he asked in an awe-tinged growl.

“Yes. Oh, God, Sebastian.” She gripped his forearm where it disappeared beneath her dress, her short, manicured nails digging into his skin as she urged him on, rocking her hips into his touch with increasing urgency.

“So what’s the lie?” he asked again. “It can’t be the way you’re riding my hand right now. Fuck, I wish I could see it. But I can feel it, baby. Feel how much you need to come. There’s no lying about that, is there, wife? Give it to me. Want to know how it feels when this pretty pussy comes. Show me now, here, on my fingers, with all those people down there wishing they knew how good you feel. And then I’m taking you home, wildflower, and you’re going to show me again. You’re going to come on my tongue and on my cock, over and over, until you can’t remember anything about a fuckinglie.”

She arched away from the back of the seat, folding over herself as her thighs shook uncontrollably and she cameapart on his hand. He worked her mercilessly until she began squirming away from his touch, pressing her thighs together, trapping his hand between her legs, buried deep in her cunt but stilling their motion. He lifted her chin up to him and kissed her softer than he would have thought possible when her pussy was still pulsing around his fingers. As the Ferris wheel slowed, their car making its final loop, and he reluctantly removed his hand from between her legs, and he knew: the only lies were the ones they were telling themselves.

Chapter Twenty-two

Sebastian’s friends were waiting for them when they climbed out of the Ferris wheel. Heat rushed to Sabrina’s cheeks and she wondered if anyone could tell that only moments before she’d had the best orgasm of her life riding Sebastian’s hand while the ride turned to give her the most breathtaking views of Aster Bay. If they suspected, they didn’t say anything, but she thought she saw a knowing smile cross Tessa’s face before she took another bite of her cotton candy.

“Where to next?” Gavin asked. “The Rookery?”

“We could go back to the vineyard and play cards,” Ethan offered.

“I’m in more of a Scattergories mood than a Go Fish mood,” Kyla said. Gavin slung an arm over her shoulder, pulling her against him and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I think we’re headed home,” Jamie said. “Tessa’s been on her feet enough today.”

“I’m fine.” Tessa popped another wisp of pink spun sugar into her mouth.

“You’re six weeks from your due date,” her husband reminded her. “Let’s go home, princess. I’ll rub your—”

“Watch it,” Ethan grunted.

“—feet,” Jamie finished. He shot a look at Ethan. “Weirdo.”

“What about you two?” Gavin asked, turning his attention to Sabrina and Sebastian. “Scattergories?”

“We’re going to call it a night too,” Sebastian said. He wrapped his arms around Sabrina from behind, and pulled her back against him so she could feel his hard on.

You will not grind against your husband in front of his friends. You will keep yourself together until you get behind closed doors. You will not do anything inappropriate in public—well, anythingelse.

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