He poured a little more champagne. Dropped the flute beside the bed and bent to taste his prize. Yes, the champagne was sweet, but she was even better. He lapped her up, licking and sucking every single drop of drink—every single drop of Delaney. Tasting her again and again even as his fingers thrust into her. One finger, then a second. So tight. So hot.
So sweet.
He savored every single bit of her. Relentlessly took and took as she arched against his mouth. Her nails bit into his shoulders. He licked her clit. Sucked it. Hard.
She came. A wild cry broke from her lips, and he kept tasting all of her as she climaxed against his mouth.
Then he was surging up. His body lifting. His dick pushed against the entrance to her body, and he sank in deep. As far as he could go in one long, hard thrust. She was still coming around him. Her muscles squeezed and pumped him.
He rolled on the bed, moving her on top of him. Her knees pushed down onto the mattress as she straddled him. Nash’s hands caught her hips. He lifted her up, down. Faster. Harder.
“Touch yourself, baby,” he growled. “Touch yourself for me.”
Her breath heaved. One small hand pressed to his chest as she balanced herself. The other slid between their bodies, wedging down. But she didn’t touch herself as he’d ordered. She lifted up, and her fingers curled around the base of his dick. She squeezed him. Tightened her grip so deliciously.
His hips flew off the bed as he pounded into her.
Her fingers broke from him, and, yes, she stroked her clit. Her head tipped back as she moaned and that was the end for him.
He blasted his release into her even as Delaney came again.
It should have been tender. It should have been sweet.
It wasn’t.
The climax ripped through him and a guttural roar poured from his lips.
“There’s more champagne.”
Nash cracked open an eye.
Delaney was reaching for the champagne bottle.
“I am so thirsty,” she said.
But…
She didn’t reach for a flute. She brought the bottle over him. Over his dick.
Both eyes flew open. “Delaney!”
She poured a little of the champagne on him. Nash hissed out a breath.
“Cold, isn’t it?” she murmured. “I noticed that, too.” She put down the bottle. “But don’t worry, I know just how to warm you up.” Her mouth closed around him.
He fisted the sheets.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
His wife definitely knew how to warm him up.
“Are we going to talk about it?” Delaney asked as she rolled toward him.
They were in bed. The balcony doors were open. The sun was rising.
He curled an arm around her and marveled at the softness of her skin.
My wife. There was no world where he would ever grow tired of thinking about her that way. There was also no world where he would ever stop loving her. But the love of his life had just lost him with her question. “Talk about what?” Nash asked. Had four times been too many? Or could she take him again?
