“I love you,” I rasp, finding her lips with mine and kissing her like a man seeking to lay claim even as I rub the crown of my cock against her entrance, groaning deep in my chest when I find her already soaked. She moans into the kiss, back arching when I slide my aching cock into her tightness. She cries out with need, her thighs trembling against mine as she begins to move, rocking slowly at first and letting me lead before she yanks control from my grip and starts riding me like a woman mad for pleasure—but I am no different.
"Yes, oh God, feels good, Conor,” she moans, rolling her hips faster and harder over my cock, our breaths mingling with every panted sigh. Every gasped pleasure. "Faster.”
I grip her waist tightly and thrust upward, making her cry out with pleasure. Water sloshes around us, spilling onto the floor as we continue moving. Every slide of my cock into hertightness is a taste of heaven. I can’t stop. Couldn’t even if I wanted to.
“Mine!” I growl possessively even as I feel the familiar tingle at the base of my spine. The threat of an orgasm that I can’t fucking control. “Come with me, baby. I need you to come for me.”
“Close,” she pants, crying out when I dip my hand between us and press down on her clit, shoving her over the edge into orgasm. She comes with a sob, her pussy clenching tightly around me. I follow, grunting as I fill her with my cum, making her mine. Yet another sign that she’ll only ever belong to me.
My thrusts turn slow and gentle before she collapses against me, panting into my neck. I can’t help but smile. “What was that?” I chuckle.
“Vegas,” she whispers into my skin. “There’s just something about this city that drives people crazy.”
"Is that so?" I hum, running a soothing hand down her back. "What do you say we do something even crazier?"
“What?” she asks lazily, and I can tell she’s falling asleep. “What’s crazier than what happened tonight?”
“Let’s get married.”
Epilogue
3 Years Later
Arianna
The couch creaks pitifully as I shift, trying to find a comfortable position for my big belly and the incredibly athletic baby kicking in there. I grab a pillow and position it under my belly, sighing in relief when the pressure leaves my back.
Christ, I cannot wait for this baby to come out already. In all my years of traveling, I’ve experienced all sorts of adventures, but none as big as this one. In the most literal of ways.
Three years ago, Conor and I did something reckless. We decided to extend what was initially supposed to be a ten-day trip and turned it to three weeks. When we finally circled back to New York, we were married.
Let’s get married.
Three years later, the words still give me goosebumps. Fresh in my mind are the words we traded that night and the vows we exchanged—not in Vegas—but in a tiny little chapel in New Orleans. Just the two of us, like it’d been the entire trip. That is, if you don’t account for the stalker. Still, it’s ironic that some of the best pictures of Conor and me were the ones Mia took.
Still, it’s because of that decision we made that night in Vegas that I’m here today, big as an elephant with a bump the size of a beach ball.
"What are you doing sitting alone in the dark?” my husband’s voice calls, breaking into my thoughts. The lightscome on, and I blink against the harsh glare, trying to adjust to the brightness. "Are you okay? Is something wrong with the baby?”
"Too bright,” I whine, squinting my eyes at the tall man standing by the doorway.
"Sorry, I’ll dim them,” he says, and when I open my eyes next, the light isn’t as bright anymore. I watch him walk toward me and settle down on the arm of the couch, wrapping an arm over my shoulder and pulling me to his side. I bite down a whimper when his fingers start stroking up and down my bare arm. "Are you sure you’re fine? Do you want me to get you a glass of water or something from the kitchen?”
"No,” I sigh, nuzzling into him. Christ, he smells so good. Like leather, spice and something faintly smoky. "I came in to watch a movie, but then I…well, the moment I sat down, I couldn’t get up to grab the damn remote.”
"You should have called me, baby.”
"I knew you were working out, and I didn’t want to interrupt that,” I whisper, nuzzling deeper into his side, losing myself in his scent. The new body wash he’s been using adds hints of smoky tones to his scent, and heavens above, it’s doing crazy things to me. And the finger he’s stroking down my arm isn’t doing me any favors with the heat burning below my belly.
At this point, I can’t tell if it’s the pregnancy hormones messing with my brain or if it’s just him. We’ve always had a healthy sex relationship since that night in that Chicago hotel, but lately, the need is a whole other beast. I want him all the time—in the bedroom, in the kitchen while we make dinner, in the car—and sometimes, the need consumes me so much that I am forced to interrupt his workout sessions. I’m like a nymphomaniac. Insatiable. Uncontrollable.
I want him...no, I ache for him.
Every damn minute.
I can’t help it.And Conor—well, he treats me like I’m made of porcelain. I read the desire in his eyes, but there’s always an uncertainty when it comes to giving into it. As if he’s afraid I’ll break or something.
"What did you want to watch? Let me grab that remote for you,” Conor says, starting to get up, but my hands tighten on his arm, stopping him before he can move.
