“Well, just wait until you see this,” I tell him as I push back his chest to create just enough space between us to open my clutch.
His eyes widen as he sees my panties stuffed inside. “You’re in trouble now,” he says as he shoves the scrap of nude lace into the pocket of his suit jacket. “I’m collecting these as evidence. You’re not getting ’em back until tomorrow at the earliest.”
He tugs me farther down the hallway, checking every doorknob until we stumble into a smaller party room full of unused centerpieces.
I push his jacket off his shoulders and throw my headband in the same direction as my clutch while we trip over each other, all mouths and tongues and swallowed curses until I’m perched on the ledge of a giant picture window. The room is dark, so we can see clear across the golf course and over the cliff to the waves breaking against the deep winter sky.
Bennett checks his watch again. “Ten minutes.”
“How did we waste eight minutes making out?”
“I wouldn’t call it a waste,” he says as his hand travels under the hem of my dress to cup my bare center. One finger slides in with ease and he moans. “You’ve just been walking around like this? Wet and waiting… straight to jail.”
His fringe tickles my neck as he sucks on the sharp edge of my collarbone. “Or you could just fuck me.”
“I’m getting there,wife. I gotta make these ten minutes count.”
A soft whine shakes in my chest as he swirls his finger right—fuck—there. “Does it make me a bad feminist if you calling me your wife makes me feral?”
He drops to his knees, hands rubbing against the back of my thighs as he hooks one leg over his shoulder. “Considering we agreed to both change our last names to Walsh-Graves, I’m going to say no. Besides, fuck the rules, wife.”
He sucks a bruise onto my inner thigh, and I hold the back of my hand against my open mouth to stifle a scream.
“Graves-Walsh,” I tell him in between breathless pants as he pushes my dress up for me to hold and his mouth closes over me. “It’s alpha—oh god—alphabetically correct!”
“Do you really want to argue about this right now?” he asks, breaking away from the very important duty of eating me out like a fucking buffet.
“Arguing as foreplay,” I grit out.
“What happened to just foreplay as foreplay?”
He uses the flat of his tongue to do ungodly things to me as my brain becomes a jumble of crossed wires. “I can’t… I can’t believe I didn’t want you to do this to me at first.” All it took was one mind-numbing orgasm with his head between my legs on Halloween and then another right after finals finished for me to get over all the worries and fears I had about being on the receiving end of oral.
I yank his hand up from where his fingers were digging into my hip to check the time again. “Shit. Three minutes.”
Bennett moans and hums into me as the watch-wearing hand squeezes my breast, his thumb harshly rubbing my nipple.
It’s so goddamn tempting to keep him there on his knees, riding his handsome face with those perfect dimples while I lecture him about why I am right when it comes to our hyphenated name. Instead, I slide my leg off his shoulder and pull him up to me by his tie, because the last time I was here at the Cannon Beach Country Club watching fireworks was a nightmare and I am determined to replace that memory with something better and sweeter. Something I want to hold on to and remember forever.
My fingers deftly unbuckle his belt and make quick work of his zipper and fly. He hisses when I reach into his boxer briefs and pull his weeping cock free.
At my back, the first firework erupts into the sky, illuminating Bennett’s flushed cheeks.
“Fuck,” I cry. “We have to finish this later. I can’t miss the fireworks.”
“You won’t,” he says sternly as he spins me around, my armshooked around his forearm that sits in the arch of my back, pressing my chest against the window.
“What if someone sees us up here?” I ask.
He slides his erection through my arousal before thrusting his hips forward with a grunt.
I’ll never get tired of how it feels to be full of him. To share this intimacy with him as husband and wife.
“They won’t,” he says on another thrust. “All anyone can see from down there is two newlyweds who snuck away to enjoy the fireworks in private. No one out there knows that I’m fucking you with your panties in my pocket.”
From below, we can hear the ten-second countdown, and Bennett drives into me on each number.
“Two,” I whisper.
