Page 196 of Wicked Fantasies

“So you were really surprised?” Troy asked.

“Stunned, shocked, taken completely unaware. Troy, I—” She paused as they stood by the passenger side of the truck. Her mind raced for something to say, some words to express what the night had meant to her.

He kissed her before she could formulate the first thought. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let her lips show what she was feeling. For several moments, she relished the sincerity, the beauty of his kisses.

When he pulled away, she smiled. “Does this mean we get to do the honeymoon over too?”

“Thought we did that last night.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Troy. I want my second honeymoon.”

He grinned at her demanding tone. “Get in the truck.”

She laughed at his sudden haste. Climbing in the cab, she giggled as he broke more than a few speed laws trying to get them back to the hotel. Jackson and Jenna were spending the night with her mom and they’d all made plans to have breakfast together the next day.

Even though she’d seen both of the kids just a month earlier, one of the highlights of her evening had been disco-dancing with them and Troy. She’d truly been blessed with her family and tonight had driven that fact home to her.

As they drove to the hotel, Faith picked up the photo album and lightly rubbed the cover before opening it and looking at all of the pictures again. When she got to the last letter about their original wedding day, she started to turn the page.

Troy noticed her actions and placed his hand on hers to stop her. “The rest of the book is empty.”

She gave him a curious look.

“I figured we’d fill the rest of it up over the next twenty-five years or so.”

“So much more to look forward to,” she said.

“College graduation, Jackson’s and Jenna’s weddings, retirement.”

She smiled. “Grandkids.”

He nodded. “I’m sort of looking forward to that the most.”

“We’ll definitely fill it up.”

“Here we are,” Troy said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Come on, Mr. Wainwright. I think I promised you we were going to take a little ride.”

She and Troy raced each other to the hotel room and by the time he had the door unlocked, he’d shed his cumberbund, bowtie and belt. Faith kicked off her shoes as they entered the room before pushing her husband against the door as he closed it behind them. She took charge of the kiss, trying to give him back a fraction of everything he’d given her this weekend. Gripping the top of his shirt, she yanked forcefully, pulling the material hard enough that the buttons popped off and bared his chest to her lips.

“Jesus,” Troy muttered when she bit his pec hard enough to leave a mark. His hands traveled to the back of her dress and as she covered his chest with love bites, he unfastened the material. Once he’d freed the last button, he pushed the dress down, lifting her away from it and backing her toward the bed.

“Need you,” he murmured against her lips as her legs hit the edge of the mattress. With a hand on her shoulder, he pushed her down and she fell back with a laugh. Stripping off his pants and shoes, he climbed over her. Rather than remove her bra, he pushed the lacy material down until her breasts popped out. His lips descended and he gave her a dose of her own medicine, sucking and biting the sensitive flesh until she was a squirming mass of hormones beneath him.

“Sex, now,” she demanded.

Troy shook his head as he rose, still kneeling on the mattress. “No, not this time. This time, I’m making love to my wife.”

He pulled her panties off and lifted her until she was in the center of the mattress. Spreading her legs, he took his place in between and she cried out when he placed the head of his cock at her opening and slowly, lovingly entered her. They rocked gently together as they kissed and touched and loved.

When they came, it wasn’t loud and raucous like a rock concert, rather it was melodious and soothing as a symphony. In a word, it was perfect.

Taking her in his arms, Troy held her, his chest her pillow as the excitement of the evening gave way to exhaustion. She was just drifting off to sleep when he murmured, “Happy anniversary, Mrs. Wainwright,” against the top of her head. “Love you.”

“Love you,” she replied.

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