“You may now kiss the bride,” Huxley declares.
The world tilts—literally—as Donovan sweeps me back into his arms and kisses me like it’s the last time. Long. Deep. Devastating. The kind of kiss that doesn’t ask. It claims.
“I now present to you… Mr. and Mrs. Stella Carrington.”
I freeze—just for a second.
Donovan leans in, his lips brushing my ear.
“Your name is a legacy,” he whispers. “One, I’m not willing to let you lose.”
We turn to face our guests. There’s not a dry eye in the crowd as two families melt into one.
The next several hours are filled with parting hugs and cheers. The food and drinks never stopped flowing.
Donovan laces our fingers together, kissing the top of my hand before leading me onto the dance floor. His arms wrap gently around my waist, pulling me closer.You’re the Reason I Come Homeby Ron Pope begins to play.
He rests his forehead against mine, and we begin to sway—slow, steady, like the world exists only here. Our bodies fit perfectly, like we were always meant to move this way together.
As the final notes approach, a tear slips down my cheek. Donovan kisses it away without a word. Then he leans into my shoulder, his voice low and shaky as he sings,“You're the reason I come home, my love… You're the reason that when everything I know falls apart… You're the reason I come home. You're the reason I come home.”
When the song fades out, he dips me back, stealing a greedy kiss that leaves me breathless, branded, his.
The next song starts, and the crowd moves with it. We’ve played our roles—said “I do,” kissed, and clinked glasses. Now all I want is to disappear with him. No one will miss us if we vanish for a while.
I grab his hand and tug him away from the reception, weaving through the back hallway. I push open a door and find an empty, quiet room—dim, still, perfect. With one firm shove, I guide him inside and shut the door behind us.
He stumbles backward and lands on a crate of beer with a soft grunt, eyes lifting to meet mine.
I walk toward him slowly, deliberately. Then I straddle one of his legs, close enough for him to feel the heat of me. Taking his hand, I guide it up my bare thigh, stopping just shy of the lace. His fingers tense under mine.
His eyes go wide, his voice breaking on a whisper. “Baby… you said we weren’t doing garter.”
With a sly smile, I lean down, my lips brushing his ear.
“No,” I whisper, my voice low and sweet. “I said we’re not doing a gartertoss.”
I pause, just long enough for him to shiver.
“I never said you weren’t taking it off me… with your teeth. Only.”
I feel his other hand slowly trail up my other thigh. He grips my ass and yanks me closer to him.
Without another word, I lift my shoeless foot to his thigh. Donovan’s hand wraps around it, slow and reverent, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against my arch. He brings my foot closer, planting a kiss on top, then another—each one slower than the last.
His tongue slides from my red-painted toes to the delicate curve of my ankle. “Goddamn, Stella…” he breathes, his voice rough. “These fucking perfect toes—painted in my favorite color… so fucking sexy.”
He kisses up the bridge of my foot, lingering at my ankle, where his gaze catches on the dainty platinum anklet. His initials gleam in the low light—DSD.
“My initials,” he murmurs, possessive. “Marking you as mine.”
A low growl rumbles in his chest as he sinks his teeth into the soft skin just beneath the anklet—firm, claiming, careful not to leave a mark but making sure Ifeelit.
My head tips back, a moan catching in my throat.Why the hell does this feel so good?
He continues the assault of kisses up my leg, palming my ass to pull me closer. His teeth catch the edge of the garter, tugging it down just enough to make me gasp—then he lets it go and trails his mouth higher.
With a rough tug, he fists the hem of my wedding dress, shoving it up to my waist. His tongue traces a path from the top of the garter up to the edge of my bare pussy—oops. I forgot my panties today.
