Page 65 of First Comes Marriage

“Because you’re mywife,” he roared, the words ripped from his chest. “Maybe you did trap me. That’s how I feel. Trapped, Sabrina. I can’t let you go, but I can’t keep you. What am I supposed to do?”

“I—I’ll go,” she said, her wide eyes turning glassy. “If that’s what you want—”

He gripped her arm and pulled her towards him. “That’s not what I said.”

“Yes, it is!” She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “I don’t understand. What do you want?”

He took her face in his hands and kissed her before he could think better of it, before she could misunderstand that too. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was tongue and teeth and her nails digging into his biceps as they crashed together. He pressed her against the wall, trapping her between the glass and his body, as he trailed biting kisses down the column of her throat. She moaned his name, one hand buried in his hair and holding him against her.

“Tell me what you need, wildflower, and I’ll give it to you,” he promised.

And he meant it. She could ask for anything—anything—and he’d tear himself apart to give it to her, as if that wasn’t the worst trap of them all. But a trap he welcomed, one he’d cling to willingly, even if he didn’t understand it. Even if it would break him to watch her leave when it was over.

Her hand in his hair tightened as he lifted his face to meet her eyes. With the slightest pressure, she pushed him down, holding his gaze the entire time, and it was as though she’d finally dropped that match, as though his entire being was consumed by flames as he willingly went to his knees at her feet. Because this he could do. He couldn’t fix her awful ex or her horrible parents or even whatever secrets she was keeping, but right here, now, he could make her feel good.

He slid his hands up the back of her legs, over the strong calf muscles and sensitive skin at the back of her knees, over the thighs hidden beneath her sundress and the perfect curve of her ass, until he hooked his fingers in the waist of her panties and pulled them down.

She watched him, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths and one hand still lost in his hair. Her touch gentled, the insistent tugging on his hair turning to soft strokes, and suddenly it wasn’t enough to be on his knees for her. He wanted to see her, every inch of her skin, every freckle that marked her, every secret, soft place she’d kept hidden away.

Baz tugged on the hem of her dress. “Off.”

She only hesitated for a moment before she gathered the hem in her hands and pulled it over her head in one fluid motion. She unhooked the strapless bra that caged her torso and that, too, fell away. Baz sat back on his heels and took in the sight of her, completely bare for him.

He sat up on his knees and skated his hands over her hips, the dip of her waist, the angry red marks wrapping her ribs where the bra had been, until his thumbs came to rest on a small tattoo on her side.

He ran his fingers over the small, colorful bouquet of wildflowers, usually concealed beneath her clothing, and the buzzing in his blood grew louder, faster, tangling in knots in his chest and wrapping tendrils of flame over his skin. When had she gotten his nickname for her permanently inked onto her skin? The idea of it, of her sitting in some tattoo parlor getting this particular tattoo while he was thinking the worst of her, was enough to make him dizzy with wanting.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the tattoo, murmuring, “My wildflower,” into her skin. “My wife.”

Her hand returned to his hair, moving the loose strands away from his face, so he knew she saw when he lifted his eyes to hers and began kissing a path across her skin, down the soft curve of her belly. He pressed his face to her mound, breathing in the scent of her arousal as his hands curled around her body and cupped her backside, kneading the flesh there.

“Is this where you need me, wife?” He nipped at the tender place on her inner thigh and smiled against her skin when she sucked in a breath in reply. “Can I taste you now? Please?”

She exhaled her permission and used that hand in his hair to guide him to the apex of her thighs. He dragged his tongue through her slit, forcing himself to take his time, to memorize the taste of her.

She whimpered. “Stop teasing me.”

“You like when I tease you.”

He grabbed great handfuls of her ass, spreading her cheeks as he licked into her pussy, burying his nose in her soft curls. She spread her legs wider to accommodate his shoulders and he rewarded her with the scrape of his teeth over the pert little bud at her center. She gasped and melted against the glass behind her as he tipped her hips towards his waiting mouth.

“You can’t pretend with me, Sabrina. This pretty pussy tells me the truth.” He licked her again, deep and slow, humming in satisfaction at her taste on his tongue. “You get so wet when I tease you like this. Maybe I should tease you all night, keep you needy and wanting.” She groaned, her hips rocking into his touch. “You like that idea, baby?” Another burst of wetness against his tongue and he chuckled darkly. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“Sebastian, please,” she groaned.

He slid one hand between her legs, probing at her entrance with a single finger as he resumed his slow exploration of her with his tongue and teeth. She squirmed against him, as though she could get closer to his touch. When her thighs began to quiver with need and her soft exhales were tinged with desperation, only then did he slide a second finger inside her and suck her clit between his lips, drawing her pleasure from her in long pulls and the quick flutter of his fingers. She came apart around him, one hand in his hair and another on her breast, and her eyes locked on his as he drew every last drop of her orgasm from her.

He was tempted to stay there at her feet forever, but there was so much he wanted with Sabrina, and he was suddenly struck by the certainty that he was running out of time. He got to his feet and gathered her into his arms, all her bare skin scraping against his clothing as she kissed herself from his lips. With a single hand, he undid his belt and zipper, shoving his pants to the floor while she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. At last he was naked, her soft smooth places against thecoarse hair of his legs, his chest, sparking fire along his nerve endings every place that they touched.

Her hand wrapped around the base of his cock and he slammed a hand against the glass beside her head, gritting his teeth to keep from coming at that first demanding touch. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up to his as she explored the length of him, her clever fingers lingering over the piercing at his tip.

“Tell me what you want, Sabrina,” he demanded.

“I want you inside me.”

“You want me to fuck you,” he clarified, rocking into her fist. She nodded.

He dropped his hand from her chin and stepped out of her grip, reaching for the wallet in his pants pocket and retrieving a condom. He held her gaze as he slid the latex over his shaft, her wide-eyed anticipation tangling with that fiery knot in his chest and growing into something bigger, something more urgent, something he’d never felt before.

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