Page 60 of Crave

“Patrick?” She grabbed my head and looked into my eyes. Her arousal was pushed aside by concern. “Patrick, you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.”

“Listen to me.” Her tone grew more urgent. “I love you.” She cupped my jaw. “I love you so, so much. I can’t even put it into words. Whatever you do, it’s going to feel good. Don’t tempt yourself just to make me happy.”

I looked at her sprawled beneath me. Her rumpled wedding gown, pushed down around her waist and up around her hips. Dark hair lacquered into her wedding style, but loosened, pearl hairpins falling out and scattered over the pillow. A red rose lying between her legs, petals tipped with her juices.

The love of my life.

Slowly, deliberately, I bent my head.

“You’re my temptation, Christina,” I whispered. “My guilty pleasure. Nothing else will ever match that. All I want is you.”

I sucked on her hard nipple. When I used my teeth, she moaned. She was so sweet, so tender. So hot and alive. My awareness of the alcohol receded to the background, evaporating into the air.

Blindly, I found the discarded rose and dragged the petals over her thigh. She squirmed beneath me.

“You’re all I want, Patrick,” she murmured.

“That’s my girl.”

I kissed her between the breasts and unknotted my bowtie. She stared hungrily as I stripped off my shirt and tossed it aside.

“Turn over.”

She rolled over wantonly, lifting her ass in the air, spreading her cheeks to give me an unfettered view of her pussy while she peeked over her shoulder with a naughty grin.

Love surged through me. It made me so happy to see her like this. Delighted, unashamed and open.

But I gave her a swift slap on the ass, because I knew that would make her even happier. And another on the other cheek, so they’d both glow.

“Please…fuck me.” Her husky voice quavered with need.

“I will, baby.” I got off the bed and stood. “Close your eyes. Be a good girl and don’t peek.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, her lips curving in a smile of anticipation.

Kissing the top of her head, I took in the image of my beautiful bride. Her perfect makeup was smudged. Black mascara streaked under her eyes, pink lipstick sucked off, the sheen of sex and sweat glistening on her skin. Her veil floated over her bare back with its half-unlaced ribbons. Her champagne-soaked dress, the top pushed down and the skirts flipped up, frothed around her waist and hips.

She tensed, on her hands and knees, her bare ass in the air.

Waiting for me.

My belt and slacks hit the floor. I pulled off my boxers. I ached, fucking ached, to bury myself inside her. I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anyone or anything.

I found what I needed in my duffel bag. Kneeling between her spread legs, I squeezed her supple ass in one hand and squirted the lube firmly onto her tight pucker.

“Shit,” she gasped, jerking in surprise.

“Mmm. There’s something so dirty about this. Isn’t there?” I traced my finger deliberately down her cleft. Slowly, gently, I caressed her asshole. “Your ass spread for me, your pretty, snowy, pure white wedding dress flipped up, while you wait for me to take my pleasure.”

“God, Patrick…” she panted.

“I’m going to fuck your ass tonight, little lamb. I want you exactly like this.”

“Take me here first,” she pleaded, sliding a shameless finger into her pussy.

I laughed. “Poor baby, your pussy is so hungry. It’s so cute, all wet and pink and swollen and dripping with girl cum. But I’d rather fuck your tight little ass right now. That’s what I’m hungry for, sweetheart.”

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