Page 88 of The Wedding Situation Romance

Then I clasp her thighs in my hands and grind her against me. It’s easier to move her up and down on my dick than to drive upward if that makes sense, even if it is an intense upper body workout.

“Oh god,” she moans, an indicator that this is in fact working, “Oh my god.”

“Fuck me, you feel amazing,” I grit, burying my face into the swell of her breasts. I am holding her high enough to do so, and I’m suddenly kicking myself for not trying this sooner. It’s very movie-esque, very Channing Tatum, and yet, for our bodies it seems to work. And well.

As I glide in and out of her, it’s both smooth and friction-infused, creating more heat with every thrust. I want to go deeper, to fill all of her until she is made up of me.

With each drive, her pussy tightens around me, and the pleasure is almost blinding. My knees begin to shake, but I plant my feet firmly, pausing only to turn the heat of the water down a little.

Quinn notices and smirks, the tip of her tongue sitting snarkily in the corner of her mouth. “Too hot?”

“You?” I ask. “Absolutely.”

“Can’t handle it?” she purrs, and I feel the primal instinct rise in me like a guttural flame.

“Canyouhandle it?” I ask in a tone low enough to intimidate the devil himself.

“Try me…” she says, and I press her back against the tile hard. My hips crash into hers over and over again in full force. Meanwhile, I hold tight to her thighs, tugging her down over my dick with every thrust, deeper and deeper.

She moans and I groan as we sprint towards the finish line. The one I saw in the distance and paced myself towards. We need it now. We need to reach it, to collapse on the other side of it.

“Yes,” she cries out. “Oh God, Reid. Yes!” she says as I thrust harder and faster into her, the water pouring down on us like a storm. But it’s no match for the storm inside us. The one threatening to rip us in half.

And we let it.

As her pussy clenches around me, I feel the shudders ripple through her as she comes undone. And with that, I come undone too. As the orgasm thunders through us, it feels like even the Earth itself is shaking below us, billow after billow until I slowly lower to my knees, holding her in my lap as we slowly still.

“Damn,” I let out, pressing my forehead to hers and squeezing my eyes shut.

“Yeah…” she whispers.

Then she reaches up and touches my cheek. I open my eyes and they meet hers. There’s still a storm in them, but it’s in the distance. Around that, everything is calm. Deep. Sure.

And while neither of us says anything, it’s as if we don’t actually need to. Everything that needs to be said is said in our eyes. In our breaths that are slowly falling into the same rhythm.

Her lips part. As if she might say the thing we are both feeling. Then they creep into the smallest of smiles before she cups my cheek in her small, soft palm and kisses me.

And honestly, that’s all I need. Because me too, sweetheart, me too.

Chapter 36

Reid

It’samazing how life can go from almost dreamlike to an absolute shit show in a matter of hours. And by amazing, I mean it blows.

I get back to work on Monday, ready for a meeting with Michael Overholt. Between the weddings and the pause we put on things while hewent to therapy to figure things out(aka…played nice so that he could ultimately get the vacation home in the divorce with no hidden fees), I haven’t spoken to Michael much since. Other than the occasional check-in text where I ask how things are progressing and him saying well; we haven’t talked at all. So obviously, as I arrive at today’s meeting, I am running on fully charged batteries, ready to tackle the case.

However, within thirty seconds of our meeting, I find that we are very much not on the same page.

“What do you mean the therapy is working?” I ask.

“I mean…it’s just been amazing, honestly,” he says and I swear to God the man might as well be wearing rose-colored glasses. Atactic used from the other side to blur vision. A tactic so that she can get what she wants.

“Michael,” I say, stopping my pacing long enough to sit down in front of him and lock my eyes in the hopes he will see past the glitter Ashley and her lawyer and that therapist tossed into his face. “You didn’t go to therapy tofixyour marriage,” I tell him, putting the wordfixin air quotes. “You went to therapy so that you could keep your vacation home. The one that is rightfully yours. The only asset that we can keep from being split in two by the judge.”

“I know, but…” he trails off, his eyes sparkling again. “This therapist, August. She’s good. I mean,reallygood.”

“They always are,” I huff, leaning back in my chair. I told myself I wasn’t going to drink at 9am today. I didn’t think I had a reason to. I also didn’t think that my client, this client specifically, would be pulling a U-turn on what I thought was a sure thing. It’s taking a lot of restraint to keep from reaching for the bottle right now. To dull my nerves enough that I don’t strangle this gaslit man. “Michael. I need your focus. I need you to see the objective clearly with me,” I tell him.