Page 15 of Fake Fiancé, Real Wedding
My cock twitches in my chinos, and I grit my teeth. Perhaps flirting to distract her was a bad tactic?
You think, McKenzie? You’ve gone from wanting to protect her to wanting to fuck her in zero point two five seconds.
“This is us,” I growl, drawing to a halt at the suite’s door.
On the other side is the massive bed and the claw-footed bath I’d pictured Del in less than an hour ago.
My cock throbs.
She studies the closed door, teeth worrying her bottom lip.
A tight band clamps around my chest. “You’re safe with me, Del,” I promise. “And you’re in control. Of every minute.”
Those amazing blue eyes of hers lift to me. “What if I wantyouto be in control?” she whispers.
I suck in a breath.
And with a growl born from powerful need, I slam her to the door, pin her wrists above her head, and crush her lips with mine.
The kiss is wild, savage. I tear my lips from hers only long enough to open the door to the suite.
We damn near fall through it. Her hands pull at my clothes, and mine cup the back of her neck and head, holding her head exactly where my mouth wants her. WhereIwant her.
My girl. My forever.
I kick the door shut behind me and surrender to my hunger for her.
Somehow—fucked if I know how—we cross the suite to the bed, mauling each other as we attempt to remove our clothes while our lips and tongues battle.
Fisting her hands in my hair, she tears my mouth from hers. “Wings,” she pants, breasts heaving, cheeks flushed. “Collar. Corset.”
Hot lust pools in my groin, and I growl out a low chuckle, removing my glasses from my face and tossing them onto the nearest side table. “Easy.”
The large wings take me less than a few seconds to disconnect from the back of her corset. The nerd part of my mind appreciates the skill and craftsmanship of their construction before the base male part takes over.
I strip her of her boots, tutu, fishnets, and studded collar until she’s standing before me dressed only in a black lace G-string that barely constitutes as underwear, and the corset.
“Christ, Del.” I groan, skimming my palms over the curve of her ribs, the swell of her breasts, the column of her throat. “You are my undoing.”
The corners of her lips curl. “Isn’t that what you’re meant to be doing to my corset?”
Chapter Eleven
Lachlan
I yank her to my hips, grind my rigid cock to the softness of her belly, and claim her lips again. Make love to her mouth as I make quick work of the lace ribbon cinching her corset together. A soft moan vibrates through her as it loosens, and I step back, allowing gravity to do its job.
Another groan escapes me, low and strangled by need, as the corset falls to her feet. Her tits are sublime, full and heavy and creamy, her belly soft, her hips lush. “You are a fucking goddess,” I say, roaming my gaze over her.
“I am fucking impatient,” she chides, feathering her fingers over one of her tight, dusky nipples. “Could you hurry the hell?—”
I destroy the tiny space between us, circle my hands around the dip of her waist, and throw her on the bed.
Her surprised laugh flays at the tenuous shreds of my self-control. Sucking in breath after breath, I grab her ankles and yank her down to the end of the bed.
She gasps, stare locked on me as I stand between her knees and smooth my hands up the inside of her spread legs. “Thesecond I saw you, I wanted you,” I confess, the words almost guttural. “And now you’re mine.”
“Yours,” she whispers, eyes fluttering closed as I drag my thumb over the softness of her pussy. Her clit is there, waiting for my mouth, my tongue, hidden only by a thin strip of lace.
