“Can you be quiet for me?”
“Yes,” I whispered, already dizzy with want. “What are you going to do to me?”
His hand found my inner thigh, his fingers teasing along the edge, drawing slow, lazy circles everywhere except my clit.
“Making you feel good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my neck.
He had me shielded, hidden just enough that to anyone looking, we probably seemed like a couple admiring the view.
Only he wasn’t looking at the view.
He was looking at me with heated eyes.
A moan slipped past my lips as he parted me with knowing, practiced ease.
Slow, then faster. Light, then firm.
Like he was tuning my body to the perfect frequency.
His other hand slid up, teasing the peak of my breast, his thumb dragging over my nipple, sending a sharp bolt of pleasure straight to my core.
I bucked against his hand, barely gripping the railing for support.
The orgasm started deep, low in my stomach, spreading outward, liquid fire in my veins.
“Brooks,” I panted, barely clinging to reality.
He pinched my nipple hard, his fingers curling deep, and I shattered. Hard, fast, so intense I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.
Brooks held me through it, his mouth brushing against my ear as I trembled against him. “You’re fucking perfect when you come,” he murmured.
I let out a breathless laugh, my body still pulsing with aftershocks. “I bet you whisper that to all the girls.”
He chuckled, pressing one last kiss to my neck. “I don’t. But you already knew that.”
He slid his fingers from me, taking his time adjusting my dress, making sure I was put back together. Like he knew I was already unraveling.
He stepped back just enough to let me breathe, but his hands stayed on my hips, like he wasn’t ready to let go. Then, he licked his fingers looking absolutely way too smug about what we just did.
“Should we head back in?” I whispered.
Brooks smirked, slow and knowing. “Oh, we’re just getting started, Mitch.”
I shivered at the warning in his tone, pleased and curious what else he had in store for us.
“Alright, baseball star. Then what’s next?” I asked, turning toward him with a raised brow.
Brooks smirked, running his fingers along my lower back like he wasn’t ready to stop touching me.
“Well, that depends,” he mused. “There’s the ever-famous act of the groom tossing the bride’s garter to some poor bastard, and the bride tossing her bouquet. The rumor is that whoever catches either object is next to be married.”
I snorted. “Yeah, we can skip that.”
His deep chuckle sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.
“But is there anything you think we should see?” I asked, glancing around the reception hall, taking in the couples still laughing and dancing. After the balcony, I wanted to go straight to the hotel room.
He spun me around, catching me off guard, his hands settling on my waist as he gazed down at me with something unreadable in his expression.
