Page 166 of Merry Me
His hands were on me in an instant, hot and demanding, yanking up my dress with a roughness that made me gasp.
“Fuck, Natalie,” he breathed, his voice wrecked as his mouth crashed against mine.
He fumbled with his belt, the sharp clink of the buckle lost in the messy rhythm of our kiss. I barely had time to register the slick sound of his zipper, the desperation in his hands, before he freed himself, grabbed my hips, and thrust into me in one fluid, starving motion.
I cried out into his mouth, clinging to his shoulders as my back hit the leather seat, the stretch of him stealing the breath straight from my lungs.
“Mine,” he growled, thrusting again—harder this time. “You feel that?”
My laugh was a gasp, wild and dizzy. “How could I not?”
His mouth found mine again, slower now, deeper, as he rocked into me like we had all the time in the world, like this wasn’t the back of a limo after a premiere, but the place he was always meant to be.
Fuck,I love being this man’s wife.
As he thrust into me again—slow, deep, claiming every inchlike he had the rest of forever to worship me—I wrapped my legs around him and whispered against his mouth, “You really couldn’t make it one more hour?”
He smirked.
“Next time, I’m not even waiting for the movie.”
And just like that, we missed the after-party.
Again.
Because being married to Easton Maddox?
Was a full-time, thoroughly satisfying job.
And I never wanted a day off.
