Jesus Christ. Did I hit the fucking jackpot or what?
“There’s only an hour left of this year,” I point out.
“Then you better get to recovering.”
I chuckle. “And you better put some clothes on before we head downstairs. That cunt and those tits are mine now.”
“Don’t you forget it. Oh, and one more thing,” she says, and she shifts back up to press a kiss to my lips.
“Hm?” I ask.
“The kiss in front of the keg?”
I smile sheepishly as I wrinkle my nose. “I didn’t mean for that to slip out. I’m sure you forgot about it, but—”
She holds up a hand. “I never forgot,” she whispers. “I think about that kiss all the time.”
“So do I,” I admit.
Our mouths collide just like they did that night all those years ago. Who knew there would be a twelve-year gap between kisses but that we’d end uphere?
“Don’t you ever forget that, either.” She rolls off the bed and points a finger at me before she moves to sashay toward the bathroom, but she trips on the wedding attire tossed haphazardly all over the floor.
I leap to help steady her, but she’s already standing upright by the time I get there. I just chuckle and shake my head. Tripping over her own wedding dress issoTatum Barker…uh, TatumBradley.
She slips into a black cocktail dress, and I pull my tux back on for the party downstairs. She changes from the white heels to black, and the heels on these are so pointy that I ask her if she can actually walk in them.
“Of course I can,” she says, rolling her eyes in exasperation.
“I mean, youdidjust trip on your own clothes.”
“I blame that on the sex stupor. I’m fine now.” She says the words, but as we leave our room and approach the elevator, she grabs onto my arm.
I guess if she can’t walk in those shoes and chooses instead to hold onto my arm for the remainder of the evening, that’s not really a bad thing for me.
We’re alone on the elevator, and the heat between us is palpable.
“Are you recovered yet?” she asks quietly.
My eyes flick to hers, and I can’t help it. I nod.
She’s down on her knees in a second, reaching into my slacks without undoing the button. We only have fourteen more floors to go, and the elevator is pretty quick.
I tip my head back and close my eyes at the feel of her mouth on me, warm and wet as she sucks me in. I thrust my fingers into her hair, still done up for the wedding.
Fuck, it’s good. So good.Toogood. I want to come in her mouth. I want to shoot it to the back of her throat, to mark her mouth the way I just marked her cunt.
But the elevator is slowing. She holds me in, and the crown of my cock hits the back of her throat. I grunt at the feel of it, and I turn down to watch her.
She’s looking up at me, need and desire clear in her eyes. She fists me at the base as she pulls me out of her mouth, sucking hard the entire way, and then she lifts to a stand just as the elevator skids to a stop. I push myself back into my pants, my glistening cock hard and ready and aching for more.
“This isn’t over,” I mutter.
“Not by a long shot,” she agrees, shooting me a wide smile as the doors pull open and we find a group of people waiting to board.
We exit and head to the party in full swing. We find a server carrying a tray of champagne glasses, and we each take one and toss it back before we find the same guy and take another.
We head to the dance floor, and this party feels like it’s sort of serving as a second reception—only just for the two of us instead of with family and friends.
