“The wedding is planned and will happen in two months. Can’t we start trying early?”
I stare at her and bite the corner of my lip. “Fuck yes.”
I pick her up and carry her over my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she asks, laughing.
“We’re starting right now,” I tell her, smacking her ass with my opposite hand as I run up the stairs.
The main suite takes up the entire west side of the second floor. The bed is a massive four-poster in dark wood, piled with white linens and enough pillows to build a fort. Windows line two walls, letting in the afternoon light, and the grounds glow gold in the distance.
I set her down on the bed, and she’s laughing.
“You can’t carry me around like you’re a caveman.”
“Yes, I can,” I say. “I do whatever I want.”
“Shut up.” She sits up on her elbows, pulling me down on the bed with her. “Just us, Louis. Finally.”
I kiss her slowly, savoring the taste of her, the way her body fits against mine. We have time right now. There aren’t any guards outside the door. No schedule to keep up with until after the wedding. No rules about who can be where and when. Right now, it’s the two of us in our home, and we have the rest of our lives stretched out ahead of us.
Her hands come up to the buttons of my shirt, and she works them open one by one, her fingers brushing my skin with each release. I shrug it off and let it fall to the floor, then reach for the hem of her dress. I push it up over her body, and she’s wearing nothing underneath except some white lace that barely qualifies as underwear.
“Fuck, I’m so happy you’re mine.”
“Me too,” she says.
I cup her breasts in my hands. My thumbs brush over her nipples until they harden. She gasps and arches into my touch.
“I would’ve never gotten over you.” She breathes.
We desperately kiss as I pin her beneath me. She looks up at me with those blue-green eyes, her hair spread across the white pillows. I kiss my way down her body, pausing in all the places that make her gasp and moan, like the curve of her neck and the hollow of her collarbone. I move to the soft skin between her breasts, then tug on one nipple. She gives me a little moan while she tangles her fingers through my hair.
I move lower, kissing across her stomach, her hip bones, the inside of her thighs. Her legs fall open for me, and I settle between them. My breath is hot against her. The lace is soaked through, and I press a kiss to her, tasting her through the fabric.
“Please,” she whimpers.
I pull the lace from her body and slide my tongue against her clit. She rocks against my mouth, and I grip her hips to hold her still as I work her with my tongue. The taste of her, mixed with her breathless gasps, makes me feral. I push two fingers inside her and curl them until her fingers are grasping the comforter. Her walls clench around me, and her thighs are trembling on either side of my head.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps. “Right there, Louis. Don’t stop.”
Seconds later, she shatters with my name on her lips, her whole body shaking as the orgasm rolls through her. I work her through it, gentling my touch as she comes down, pressing soft kisses to her thighs.
When she finally stops trembling, she pulls me up her body and kisses me hard, tasting herself on my tongue.
“Time to fuck your fiancée,” she says against my mouth.
“My pleasure.” I kick off my pants and settle between her legs.
My cock presses against her warm entrance. She’s slick and ready. When I push inside, we both groan at the sensation.
“Damn,” she breathes. “You always feel so good.”
I start to move, letting her pussy savor every inch. She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me deeper, urging me faster. I lose myself in the rhythm of her body beneath mine.
“Harder,” she demands. “Louis, more.”
I grip her hip with one hand and snap my hips forward, driving into her with everything I have. The headboard slams against the wall, and she cries out, her nails raking down my back hard enough to leave marks.
