Page 47 of Uncovering Love: The Wedding

I have one goal in sight before I sink into my wife, and that’s to make her fall apart first. It’s partly I-absolutely-love-to-watch-her-come mixed with I’m-so-turned-on-I’ll-blow-my-load-in-less-than-a-minute, but regardless, the end result is worth the temporary self-deprivation. Scooting off the bed so my knees hit the carpet, I hook both hands under her thighs and pull her to the edge of the mattress so I can spread them wide.

She pushes up on her elbows and watches my ministrations from beneath hooded eyes. I sink two fingers back inside and lock my lips around her most sensitive flesh. Her hips try to buck off the bed, but I press against her lower belly to keep her in place.

“Oh, God. Yes, Tate. Right there, babe. More. Please.” She chants that and more over the music. Increasing the pace, I stroke my fingers up with a come hither motion and swipe the flattened tip of my tongue back and forth across her swollen clit. I know she’s close. I can feel it with the tightening of her body and it only spurs my motions. Harder. I want her orgasm.

Her stomach clenches and shakes, and she shouts my name as her pleasure peaks and washes over her. I draw it out, slowing my motions but not letting go until every bit of her release has trembled from her body.

“Oh, wow.” She slumps back onto the still made bedding with a ragged breath, her body completely satiated. “Oh, babe. You outdid yourself with that one.” Her lips pull up to one side with her smirk as I climb up beside her.

“You need a few minutes?” I want to be polite, even though I’d rather mount her and sink deep inside that pussy I know for a fact is warm and wet.

She quirks an eye and before I can even ask, she’s on top of me, straddling my legs and working my pants down my thighs. Her delicate hands reach for my dick as it springs free, and she caresses me with long, measured strokes that equally give pleasure and pain. Pain because it’s not close to enough.

“How do you want me?” she asks through her uneven breath. “Can I ride this cock?” Before I can remember how to formulate an answer other than a ragged groan, she positions herself over my hardness and guides me into her folds.Fuck, fuck, fuck. I have to pinch my eyes closed to think of anything other than how fucking incredible she feels. Snake bites. Roller coasters getting stuck midair. Giant spiders. Crazy pregnant women. Babies. Evie pregnant with my baby.Shit. I don’t verbally share how turned on that makes me, but the thought stays in my mind as my fingers dig into her hips and I thrust up as she swivels her hips up and down my shaft. I’m so close to blowing my load, but I want to hold out until she’s come once more.

Ring, ring, ring. The music cuts with the harsh sound of an incoming call and Evie’s eyes snap to mine. Her movements slow. “It’s fine. Let it go to voicemail.” She says as we try to resume our pace. The music comes back on but after another thirty seconds it cuts again.

Ding. Ding. Ding-ding-ding-ding.

Evie’s phone alerts once, twice, three times in that familiar incoming text message tone until it becomes an incessant annoying cock blocking machine. I feel her body still again. She’s pulled from the moment. Even my dick acknowledges defeat. It seems our lovemaking has been tabled.

“I should ...” She nibbles on her lower lip.

“Go ahead.” I help slide her off my body and release a harsh sigh when I lay back on the comforter. I suck in deep breaths to calm my racing pulse and raging hard on while staring at the stucco ceiling.

“It could be an emergency,” she says, but we both know the more likely truth.

One of Kate’s preggo panic moments. Overreacting and successfully managing to keep me from getting laid once again. If she wasn’t so good to Evie, I’d hate the woman by now.

Evie steps over to the dresser and picks up her bag, then digs through the contents until she retrieves the annoying device.

“Oh, my God!” she screams, but it’s a sound filled with delight.

“What now?” A chuckle escapes as I push off the bed and walk to her side.

Her smile stretches wide and she points at the screen, the illumination of the backlight brightening every feature of her face. “Oh, my God! Kate’s in labor!”

“What?” My brow furrows with the concern that replaces my amusement. Words rush from my lips along with my panicked thoughts. “Isn’t it too early? Is she okay? Is the baby okay?”

“Easy there.” Evie places a hand on my chest, her eyes full of sincerity when she catches my stare. “Lots of babies are born premature and healthy. She’s thirty-seven weeks. That’s hardly early, anyway.”

“But her due date isn’t until next month,” I murmur. I really don’t get this baby thing. This seems a much bigger deal than Evie is letting on. “Are you sure she’s fine?”

“I’m sure she’s good. Here, this is her last message ...” She glances at her phone to read aloud. “Bitch, you best get to this hospital or you’re dead to me.”

“Wow. She pulled out the bitch. Harsh.”

Evie smirks as she shakes her head. “I’m sure she’s just giving me a hard time.”

“Humor gets lost in translation.” I’ll never truly understand their friendship.

“Wait. Hold on. She’s typing again.” Those little dots bubble on the screen and when the message pops up I read it over her shoulder.

Kate: Hospital, bitch. Now.

I whistle loud. “Double bitch. She ain’t messing around.”

“Shit.” Evie shakes her head and looks around our hotel suite. “It’s our wedding night. I want to be here. But ...”

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