Titus exhaled slow.
She was outrageous.
Fearless.
His.
Before the silence stretched too far, he shoved through the crowd.He dropped his jar.He reached her in ten strides.Her fingers curled around his wrist, tight and possessive.She half leapt.Thighs locked at his hips.Titus caught her.Her face inches from his.
“You want spectacle,” she whispered, mouth slick with whiskey.“Let us give them a show.”
He crushed her against him.Lips collided.He tasted fire and bourbon and the wild of her skin.Her laugh tumbled straight into his mouth.She bit him for good measure.Hips rolled once.His arms cinched around her strong enough to keep them both steady while the crowd yelled and boots pounded applause into the stones.
Kyla’s ankles locked at the base of his spine.She kissed him harder until the world narrowed to haze and pulse and promise.“Told you,” she murmured into his ear.“I am not scared.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Titus growled into her hair, rough with desire.
They crashed from the light into dark.Gravel rattled under boots.Her grip stayed steady on his shoulders as he half carried, half dragged her toward the barn.Kyla’s laughter filled every slip and stumble with something unrepentant.
“If you drop me and I break my ankle, you are carrying me down the aisle.”
Titus snorted, almost lost his footing.Kyla shrieked, smacked his ass, and set her teeth at his ear.
“It would be worth it,” he shot back, sucking salt and whiskey from her neck, breathing her in like proof that this belonged only to him tonight.
The barn’s double door swung open with his boot.Moonlight bled down the hay chute.He wedged her between him and the rungs of the ladder.Kyla kicked off her boots, then scrambled up, bare feet splaying against weathered wood.
He followed.
The loft carried the scent of cut grass, dust, and old horses.He reached the top and hauled her to standing.Both half laughing, chests pressed tight.He spun her by the hips and pressed her forward.
He pushed her down firmly until her forearms braced on the hay bale and her ass lifted high for him.Dress bunched high at her waist.Underwear yanked aside.
He dropped to his knees behind her.Both hands gripped her ass and spread her open wide.He leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly from her clit all the way up through her soaked slit.
She tasted salty and sweet and ready.He circled her clit with firm strokes of his tongue then sucked it hard into his mouth.Her hips bucked back against his face.
“Fuck, that is it,” he growled against her pussy.“Bend over just like that for me.Show me how bad you need it.”
He slid two fingers into her tight heat and pumped them deep while his mouth stayed locked on her clit.“I love this pussy.I love how wet you get for me.Tomorrow I am marrying you and I still cannot get enough of how you open up for me like this.”
Her moans grew louder and more desperate.He sucked harder on her clit and stroked that spot that always made her lose control.Her thighs started shaking violently against his shoulders.
“Come on my tongue, Kyla.Let me taste you coming before I fuck you full of me.”
She came with a raw cry.Her walls clamped down on his fingers and her clit throbbed against his tongue.He kept licking and sucking her through every wave until she was trembling and gasping.
Only then did he rise.He freed his cock from his jeans, hard and ready.She reached back and wrapped her fingers around him, stroking once then twice.
He rubbed the head of his cock along her soaked entrance, then pushed in slow, letting her wet heat swallow him inch by inch until he buried himself to the hilt.
He gripped her hips and started to move.Each thrust went deep.Skin slapped against skin in the quiet loft.He leaned over her and slid one hand around to her clit, his fingers circling the swollen bud firm and steady while he kept thrusting.
“God, I love you,” he rasped against her ear.“Tomorrow, I get to call you my wife.You are going to be mine in every way.”
“Yes,” she moaned, her voice ragged.“My husband.”
She pushed back against him, meeting every thrust.He drove into her harder.The wet sound of their bodies filled the loft along with her gasps and the faint creak of the hay bale.
