I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You look utterly sinful in a wedding gown. How do you manage that?”
I laugh, breathless.
He brushes a thumb along my lower lip, careful not to smudge the color. “After tonight,” he says quietly, voice dipping lower, “there will be no more waiting.”
Heat flares low in my stomach. “You say that like I’ve been withholding.”
“You have.”
“I didn’t this morning.”
“You’re doing it now. Your little patience game. You’re going to make me ruin that dress if I stay here any longer, aren’t you?”
I smile slowly. “Maybe.”
He leans in one last time, pressing his mouth to mine in a kiss that feels less like urgency and more like sealing something in place. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine. “We should stop.”
“That’s what we keep saying. And yet…” Neither of us moves for a second.
Then he straightens my bodice again, adjusting the line of it like he’s restoring order after temptation. “Finish getting ready.”
“And you go pretend to be calm.”
“I am not calm.”
“Good.”
He steps toward the door, then pauses. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He turns away from the door without another word and takes my face in both hands, before drawing me into a rough kiss. All that restraint, gone. He backs me against the wall while I pull up the layers of dress between us. But he grabs my hand. “Let me.”
He drops to his knees, then ducks beneath the layers. Then he lifts my leg over his shoulder and dives face-first against me. This fucking guy.
His fingers slide upward, pressing, stretching, teasing until I have to hold on to the clothing racks on either side of me for balance. His tongue thumps against my clit while his fingers penetrate my core. I’m losing my mind thanks to him, getting devoured in my wedding gown.
I should be furious, shouldn’t I? I can see my makeup in the mirror of the vanity across the room. It’s smeared all to hell, thanks to him, and it took far too long for—oh!
My body pulses in time with his work. I murmur a desperate, “Fuck!”
He growls into me, and I ignite, coming all over his face, his fingers. He doesn’t stop at one. He knows better, hunting a second with his tongue. It comes fast, and I can’t breathe. Once he’s sure I won’t fall over, he stands up and kisses me. I love the taste of us together, His mouth, my pussy.
His breathing hasn’t slowed. “I needed that.”
I reach over his tux trousers. “You need more than that.”
He nods wordlessly.
My dress is too big for anything romantic, but I turn around and raise what layers I can, hoping the implication is clear.
He growls under his breath and finishes the lifting of the layers. “I love that you aren’t wearing panties on our wedding day.”
“Seemed appropriate.”
He laughs, pulls my hips back just enough, and his cock snugly nudges into me from behind. We both groan from the sensation, too overcome to be quiet. He nuzzles against my neck. “Mrs. Baylock, you feel too fucking good.”
