Page 56 of Wine & Whiskey: Everything for You
God fucking damn. The playfulness he’s missed returns in full force, stirring his groin like pulling the pin from a grenade. He has to have her. “Okay boss lady, I’ll do anything you want.” He side-steps the furniture at her wide-eyed smirk and lunges forward, twisting the fabric of her dress and pulling her against him. “After I make love to you.”
“That’s so inappropriate, Mr. DeMarco. I’m your boss, not your—”
An irrational growl rumbles in his chest. The titles may mean the same thing, which he willingly accepts. But there’s no way he’s going to let her say the words, denying what she means to him.
She squeals at his fingers tickling her ribs. “Okay, okay. I’m your wife.” He draws her tighter, her delicate hands resting on his biceps, her chest rising and falling as her laughter dies away. “I’m your wife.” Their eyes lock as she cups his cheeks, touching his face to hers, her voice falling to a whisper, “And you’re my husband.”
Her fingers roam down his chest to his belt, slowly sliding the leather out of the loops, her gaze burning, never breaking from his. Nothing more seductive than a woman who knows what she wants and makes sure he understands too. His breath hitches at seeing her confidence. In him. In herself. “Fuck, sweetness.”
“Yes, that’s the idea.”
It’s all over when she breaches the waistband of his boxer briefs. Her delicate fingers touching him, owning him, controlling every muscle, thought, and emotion. His entire being at her gentle mercy. Warm breaths singe his earlobe.
“What do you want, Mr. DeMarco?”
He forces the words out through gritted teeth, rocking against her flexing grasp. “You.”
“Then tell me what I like to hear.”
Mimicking him. Driving him to the brink with her words and her touch. Caressing him to the point of no return. “I love you, Shae.”
A second hand joins the first, urgent strokes over and over his sensitive skin. He grips the desk edge to keep from slumping backward under her ministrations. “Good, but not quite. Try again.”
“Sweetness?”
“Better, but still not it.”
Fucking shit. She wins. “Mrs. DeMarco.”
“There you go.”
Yes, he does. His fingers drive through her hair, and he pulls her mouth to his, trapping her hands between them in his urgency. Still gripping his hardness. Unable to hold back, he grinds against her. Needing to feel her around him. To be inside her. Now.
Only a sliver of space separates them as he slides her dress over her head, grazing over her satin skin. A soft moan leaves her mouth at his fingers brushing her hardened nipples straining through the thin material covering them. Her hands tangle with his, searching for the clasp to release the soft mounds while he kicks off his pants and boxers.
One last barrier between them. This time, he won’t change his mind. He lays her back, his finger circling the string at her hip before twisting and ripping away the flimsy fabric. She looks up at him, her chest heaving, wearing only her stunning smile. His sweet, beautiful wife bared for him. Nothing and no one keeping them from each other.
Standing between her spread legs, he licks a slow path from her throat to the hollow of her breasts. Fingertips brush over her pink lips before trailing down her neck and resting on her pounding heart.
His.
Her back arches off the worn, scuffed surface as he glides lower, caressing the slight burgeoning curve of her gorgeous stomach. Almost overwhelming him that his baby grows inside her belly.
Theirs.
He covers her body with his, needing every inch of his skin to touch hers. She lifts up, her mouth crashing into his, her tongue swirling, fighting to pull him deeper. Exactly what he’s going to give her.
Palming his length, he rubs it between her silky folds before pushing inside, slow and decadent.
Hers.
They’ve got all the time in the world. The breathless gasp escaping from her throat fuels his need, and he buries himself completely. Her body responds, lifting up, welcoming him, meeting him each time, matching each hungry thrust. Arms around his neck, hips rocking against his, calves squeezing his thighs. Giving one hundred percent of themselves to each other.
Again and again, he plunges deeper. His sweat mixing with her flowery essence, the most powerful drug he’ll never be able to live without. Right now, it’s just him inside her heaven. Nothing else exists.
She licks her lips, swollen against his. “I…” Her raspy voice spurs him farther, needing her to come undone underneath him. Needing his wife to truly be his. One last drive before she cries out. “I know you love me.”
God, yes, he does.
