Page 116 of Whiskey Proposal

I finish doing exactly what I said, then I dust my hands off.

“Crawl to me.” She snaps her mouth shut like she’s shocked herself. The chair isn’t far away. “I like . . . I like you on your knees for me.”

She rushed into her dad’s old house, past her childhood fears, to explain herself to me. I bought a ring, and I proposed, but she needs to see me desperate. She knows I’m not walking out on her. She needs to know I’ll crawl after her.

My hands hit the cool pavers. We’re in the shadow of the house, and the trees block us from the back of her brother’s place on one side and from my brother’s place on the other.

I only have to crawl a few feet. The fire isn’t strong enough to kick off a lot of heat as the papers turn to ash. I don’t have to worry about her getting cold anyway. I’ll keep her warm if she needs it.

She’s watching me with wide eyes, her gaze lifting occasionally like she’s making sure the papers haven’t jumped out of the pit and reformed themselves.

When I reach her, I grip the edge of the chair. “I’ll crawl to wherever you are, but I’m going to make sure you never feel like you have to ask again.”

Her bright hazel eyes glitter, and she nods. This girl guts me. Since that first glimpse of her headshot, that gaze that holds back so much emotion, I’ve been hers. She carved me hollow and nestled inside my chest.

As if she knows where my thoughts are, she lays her hand over my heart. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

“You deserve the best. You always have. I’m gonna make sure you get that too.” I kiss her and pull her shorts down. She lifts her hips enough to let me slide them off.

Then I sink down and curl my arms under her thighs. “Watch them burn, Em. I’m going to make this sweet cunt mine.”

“It’s already yours. All of me.”

“Never hurts to do it over and over again.”

She moans and reclines, gripping the armrests. I claim her clit and she bucks against my face, letting out the most delicious cry. She’s soaking wet, like she’s been waiting for me as long as I’ve been waiting for her.

“Yes, Lane.”

I lick and suck. There’s too much urgency, like if she doesn’t come that means I’m not keeping my word. It’s just that I can’t get enough of her. I never thought I’d have this, and then after we were married, I didn’t know if I’d truly have her.

This proves that I have and I did.

She explodes against me, and I lap her up. Her thighs squeeze my head, and my air almost gets cut off, but what a fucking way to go. When her legs go limp, I lift my head. Her eyes are glazed and her chest is heaving.

“That was . . .” She looks around like she’s worried we woke up the neighborhood. “I’m one lucky wife.”

“Nah, Em. I’m the luckiest goddamn man in the world.” I stand and lift her in my arms, turn, and set her on top of me.

She rips at the fly of my jeans, and when her hand wraps around my cock, my vision crosses. “Fuck, Em. If that doesn’t prove how much you own me, I don’t know what does.”

She laughs softly and kisses the corner of my mouth. “We possess each other, and I have the ring to prove it.”

As she climbs onto me, I try not to rush her. There’s some primal drive inside me that needs to mark my woman. The rough edges of my childhood have been polished, but Emerson roughens up the right parts. I need to spill inside her.

With one last look at the tepid fire, she sinks down. My groan carries on the air, and I take over. She’s on top, but I’m in charge.

I coax her to a fast pace before slipping my hands under her shirt and up her back. “Ride me hard, Emerson.”

She anchors herself on the back of the chair, and her hair drapes around us. “Do you need to come, husband?”

“Yes.”

She stops, her tight cunt squeezing the tip of my cock. “How bad?”

A guttural sound leaves me, as if I’m in pain. I’m not in charge after all. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She drops, but only an inch. “I feel like the most powerful woman in the world right now.” She lifts herself.