Page 82 of Gracefully Yours

I practically shivered as he ran his fingers over the bare skin of my back. My dress fell down around my hips, leaving me only in the little lace panties I’d gotten specifically for the occasion. I’d built cups in my dress, leaving me with a beautiful open-backed design for my wedding dress—and no bra on.

Daniel picked up the dress reverently, carrying it over to the closet to hang it up inside. Maybe we weren’t in love, but the way he was treating my dress—so reverently—made my heart thrum up in my chest. I’d spent weeks making it, dozens of hours as I sewed each individual detail, and it had all been so worth it.

“Your turn,husband,”I said, giving him my best coy smile, reaching out to unbutton his vest. It was a crime that I was practically naked while he was fully clothed, only his jacket discarded.

I wanted to run my fingers over his abdomen, trace each rib of his abs with my tongue. Tonight, I wanted to do it all, because I’d never gotten the chance to before.

Once we’d stripped him down to his briefs, a flurry of hands and fabric, I ran my hands over his erection, finding him already hard and wanting. Why did that turn me on so much? Knowing how much he wanted me made my heart race even faster, the wetness pooling between my thighs. I went to push my hand inside his waistband and run my fingers up his shaft, but he pushed me away.

“Come here,” he murmured, and before I could say anything, he’d guided me to the edge of the bed, plopping me down on the mattress so he could pull out the dozens of bobby pins holding my hair in place. “I’m going to take care of this first.”

Oh.Because he knew my hair would be a giant mess if we didn’t take it all down now.

I couldn’t help but think about the other day on the ski trip, when he’d brushed out my damp hair just because he wanted to. Not because I’d asked him to. He ran his fingers through my curls, separating the strands.

When he’d finished, I plopped against the giant king-sized mattress, throwing my arms out as if I could make a snow-angel on the bed. “Mmm,” I said, settling myself in. “That’s better.”

Daniel joined me on the bed, climbing over top of me and letting his body weight drape over mine.

“Darling… You’re so beautiful, all spread out for me.” He kissed my neck, my collarbone, down towards my breasts.

“Just for you,” I agreed, trying to hold back a moan as he sucked at my skin.

“Fuck, I like that,” he groaned. “I feel so possessive, but I liked thinking that I’m the only one who gets to touch you. Taste you. That no one else has explored every inch of your body except for me.”

There was some part of me that liked how possessive he felt, too. Because I wanted tojustbe his. I liked when he called me darling, especially in private. It made me feel like, maybe it might have started off as something fake, but now it felt likemore.

“More,” I panted as his lips connected with my nipple, sucking lightly as his tongue ran over the hardened peak.

I wanted this to be real between us. Wanted the ring that was on my finger to mean more than just a pact we’d made back in college. Than us choosing to be together because we were the last two singles in our friend group.

I whined, practically writhing underneath him. I didn’t know what I needed, but I knew I neededmore.

He chuckled, transferring his attention to my other breast, those maddening circles he was drawing with his tongue, and when I whimpered, he pulled away. “What does my girl want? My fingers or my tongue?”

I moaned in response. How could I possibly choose? “Both,” I pleaded. “Anything.Everything.”

Daniel’s eyes were dark as he inched down the bed, kissing down my stomach before reaching my little white lace panties. Every bit the bride. I wouldn’t admit that they’d been an impulse purchase or that I’d felt insecure about my everyday underwear. Because I wasn’t analyzing how I wanted to look good for him.

How I wanted him to see me like this: beautiful, sexy, desirable.

Reaching down, he hooked his finger around the fabric, dragging it down my legs intimately, his eyes only leaving mine as he kissed the inside of my thigh, my knee, my ankle. Leaving me so desperately writhing for him as I was bare underneath him.

“What do you want?”

“Touch me,” I whispered.

“Words, Charlotte.”

Oh, God. I groaned. Were we really doing this? I squeezed my eyes shut. “I want you to fuck me with your tongue.Please.”

His breath ghosted over my slit, and I practically jumped out of my skin from the sensation when his tongue darted out to taste me.

But he didn’t give me what he knew I wanted.Bastard. “Is this what you want, hmm? For me to taste your sweet cunt with my tongue? Tongue fuck you till you’re screaming my name, because you’re my wife?”

“Yes,”I cried out when he plunged inside of me. “Yes. Please.”

I’d never been the sort to beg for anything, but I thought that perhaps now, for this man… I’d do anything he asked of me.

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