We have a new apartment.
We really have a life together now.
We're married.
Before I can think, his lips find mine.
I kiss him back. My tongue slides into his mouth. My hands curl into his hair. My back arches. I try to press my hips to his, but with the layers of tulle, I can't feel a thing.
"Turn around," he mumbles into my neck.
I do.
Miles runs his fingertips off my shoulders. Slowly, he pulls out the pins holding up my hair. Bit by bit, the wavy strands fall over my back and shoulders. I sigh with relief. That was a tight updo.
He brushes my hair out of the way. His hand settles on the back of my dress. He undoes the lace-up back as he plants kisses on my neck. It must take five minutes before the dress is loose enough he can slide it to my hips.
I step out of it and turn around to face him.
My husband.
He's mine forever.
As usual, he's patient and I'm panting. But I can't say I mind.
Fuck patience. I want him immediately. I undo the hooks of my longline and toss it aside. I slide my crinoline off my hips.
I'm in nothing but lacy white boy shorts, my shiny silver flats, and my rings, and Miles is looking at me like I'm just as beautiful as I was in my gown.
His hands go to my hips. He drops to his knees to slide my panties to my ankles and help me out of my shoes. Then he's spreading my legs wider.
He kisses his way up my thigh. He’s hungrier than usual, less patient. He plants his face between my legs and licks me up and down.
My husband is eating me out.
I dig my hand into his hair. The other goes to the wall behind me to help me keep my balance. Anticipation has me shaking. I can barely stand up straight.
The man is damn good at this. Pleasure builds in my core as he works me. Within moments, I'm at the edge.
I squeeze my thighs against his cheeks to contain the pleasure welling up inside me.
Fuck.
Almost.
There.
All that tension knots tighter and tighter then it releases. I scream his name as I come. Pleasure spills to my fingers and toes.
"Miles," I groan. I tug at his hair for good measure.
Miles pushes himself up. In one swift movement, he scoops me into his arms. He carries me to the bed and lays me flat on my back.
"Clothes off," I breathe.
He smiles. "Your wish is my command."
I watch as he strips. The tie and blazer go first then shoes and socks. He takes his time with the buttons of his shirt, with his belt, with his slacks.
Then it's just Miles and his black boxers.
I push myself to the edge of the bed. This is the first time I'm going to see my husband naked. It needs to be special.
I bring my hands to his hips, push his boxers to his ankles, and lean in to take his cock into my mouth.
He tastes good, and he's so fucking hard. I flick my tongue against his head a few times to tease him. Once he's groaning with the agony of anticipation, I take him deeper and suck hard.
Miles tugs at my hair. "Get on your back. I'm coming inside you."
All the heat in my body pools between my legs. Hell yes.
I lie back and spread my legs. Miles climbs onto the bed. He slides his hands under my ass, positioning my body so his cock strains against me.
My husband is about the enter me.
It's romantic and hot at the same time.
His fingers curl into the flesh of my ass as he slides into me. He does it slowly, one inch at a time. I soak in every second of it.
It's our first time having sex as a married couple.
It's fucking amazing.
He keeps one hand on my ass, using it to guide my movements as he thrusts into me. We move a little faster. A little harder.
His piercing blue eyes really are at their most beautiful when they're filled with pleasure.
I need more of his affection. I need every ounce of his affection. I slide my hands to the back of his head and pull him into a deep kiss.
We stay locked like that, my tongue in his mouth, his cock inside me.
Pleasure overtakes me. The tension in my core knots tighter and tighter, then it unwinds in one hell of an orgasm. I squeeze my thighs against his hips, groaning into his mouth as I come.
With a few more thrusts, he's there. His torso shakes. His fingers dig into my skin. I can feel his groans vibrating over my neck and chest.
I can feel his cock pulsing as he comes.
Our lips stay locked as we collapse onto our sides. He pulls me closer. It feels so good kissing him, kissing my husband, that it takes minutes for us to come up for air.
He pulls back. His eyes meet mine. "You want to get the couch or the Jacuzzi next?"
"The couch."
"In that case, I have your wedding gift." He shifts away to pull something from the beside drawer.
I've seen this before. It's a couple's vibrator.
Heat rushes through my body. I'm on my way to being ready to go again.
"It's a romantic choice," I say.
He pulls me into his arms and plants a kiss on my forehead. "Only the best for my wife."
Strum Forever
Chapter Fourteen
Kara
I adjust my blouse and skirt. I need to look perfect. I know Drew doesn't care—he'd say I look best in nothing—but it calms me knowing my hair, makeup, and attire are on point.
I check my makeup in the mirror. My smoky eye is still perfect, but my lipstick could use a touch-up. I dig into my bag for my baby, you know you want to kiss me red.
Not that Drew needs any convincing on that front.
There. That's better. I take a deep breath as I study my reflection. Why am I so nervous? I wake up to Drew every morning. He knows what I look like exhausted, hungover, and sick.
No matter what, he always tells me I look beautiful.
I throw my lipstick back in my purse. It smacks into a tampon. There are tons of tampons in here. Enough for an entire cycle.
What the hell?
My phone buzzes. Drew. He's here. I check my makeup one more time. Deep breath.
Drew is here. Nothing else matters, certainly not my inability to stock my purse with an appropriate amount of feminine hygiene products.
Fuck, it's been so long since I've seen him. I can't do anything to contain my excitement. I practically burst out of the bathroom.
The baggage claim is crowded with people getting off the flight. Most are Bay Area tech types with hipster glasses and baggy hoodies.
A guy in a black hoodie moves out of the way.
There's Drew. I sigh with relief. Everything will be okay. He's here.
His dark eyes light up as he spots me. The exhaustion on his face is replaced with excitement.
He practically runs to me. He looks good in a tight t-shirt and skinny jeans, his backpack slung over his shoulder.
He stops next to me. In one swift movement, he drops the backpack and wraps his arms around me.
I bury my face in his chest. It's better than I thought it would be.
Drew is in my arms.
Fuck. I missed him.
"You look gorgeous," he mumbles.
I squeeze him tighter then release the hug enough I can look into his eyes. "How was the flight?"
"Which one?" He runs a hand through his hair. "Tom and Willow were making out the whole flight to LA."
"Really?"
He nods.
I laugh. "You must feel emasculated, baby, him making out with your sister in front of you."
"They are married." Drew shakes his head with disbelief. "She's happy. That's what matters."
"Proud of you for standing down." I rub his bicep. My fingers can't help but trace the lines of his tattoos. It's wrong how sexy his ink-covered arms are.
It's more wrong that he ever wears a shirt. Even now, the way his chest-piece tattoo peeks out from the low v of h
is v-neck...
My knees go weak. My heart thuds against my chest.
"How do you look so fuckable after fourteen hours in transit?" I ask.
He raises an eyebrow, staring at me like I'm crazy. "I look like shit."
"No." I rise to my tiptoes so I can run my fingers through his short black hair. It's oily, in need of a wash. And his under-eye circles are darker than mine. Okay, I can admit it. "You look a little tired. And a little greasy. But all that means is that you need to be in the shower with me."
"Aren't we staying with your mom?"
"She went to bed before I left."
His eyes light up.
It's going to be difficult working around my mom's schedule for the two weeks we're spending in her townhouse. The place is a palace by San Francisco standards, but it's tiny by I want my mom far enough away from my bedroom that she won't hear me fucking my fiancé standards.
Drew can more than afford a hotel room, even a suite at a fancy hotel in SoMa, but it means the world to Mom that he's staying with us.
He leans down to kiss me. It's hungry and needy.
Somehow, I'm hungrier and needier than he is. At least it feels that way. It feels like I'll never get enough of kissing him.
I have to make up for every kiss we missed the last two weeks.
I need every inch of Drew. I need every bit of love, affection, and warmth.
I slide my tongue into his mouth and bring my hands to his waist. The fabric of his cotton t-shirt is thin enough I can feel the heat of his skin.
Fuck.
Why didn't we stay at a hotel?
***
The drive lasts a million hours. Thankfully, there's an open space on our street.
Drew grabs his suitcase from the trunk. For a moment, his eyes go to the place next door. It's the house where he grew up. His mom still lives there.
I see her from time to time. She always acts like he doesn't exist.
That must hurt. It hurts me just thinking about it.
I squeeze his hand.
He shakes his head, his attention coming back. "Fuck, I'm jet lagged."
"Thinking about your mom?"
He presses his lips together. Okay. He doesn't want to talk about it. Hard to blame him. Drew's not really the type to talk about his feelings. It's still hard for him to admit anything has ever hurt him.
I open the door for him and lead him to my room.
Drew sets his suitcase on the bed and unzips it. "Still can't believe how fast things with my mother went to shit." He opens each drawer in my dresser, one at a time. "You have any place for my stuff?"
"Shit. I forget to clear a drawer. Let me." I grab everything from my top drawer and shove it into the second.
"Quite the organizational skills."
I nod. Usually, I like keeping things neat. But right now, I'm itching to get Drew naked in that shower. "You want to talk about it?"
"Fuck no." His eyes pass over me. "What the fuck am I doing putting this shit away?"
I smile. "I was about to ask you that."
"God damn, Kendrick, your tits look divine in that blouse. How the fuck is it staying buttoned?"
"I'm going to be an English teacher, not a physics teacher," I tease.
"Better test it." He slides his arms around my hips. In one swift movement, he pins me to the wall. His lips go to my neck. My ear. My cheek. Then they're on mine.
His kiss is hard, needy.
He drags his hand up my torso. His fingers trace the neckline of my blouse. He undoes one button. Two. Three. That's enough for the shirt to spill open, my chest on display to him.
He slides his hand into my bra and rubs my nipple with his thumb.
Fuck, the man has magic fingers. They get better every time I see him.
He pulls back. His dark eyes meet mine. They're as hungry as his kiss. He shifts his hips so I can feel his erection. "Not sure if my hands or my cock missed you more."
"Why choose?"
He steps back, taking my hand. "This is gonna be fast. Was thinking about you the whole flight here."
Before I can respond, his lips are on mine. His tongue slides into my mouth. He groans as he palms my ass over my skirt.
We stumble to the bathroom. With Mom asleep in her bedroom, it's way too loud. I lock the door—just in case she gets up—and run the shower.
Hopefully, I can stay quiet enough the shower muffles everything.
His eyes fix on me as he undoes the last three buttons of my blouse. He nearly rips the thing off my shoulders. He nearly breaks the zipper of my skirt as he undoes it and slides it off my hips.
I reach back to unhook my bra.
His eyes go wide as the garment falls to the floor.
"Fuck, you get more beautiful every time I see you." He cups my breasts, watching his fingers toy with my nipples.
Pleasure shoots to my core. "Me or my tits?"
"Both." He leans down to kiss me—the man is nearly a foot taller than I am.
He slides his hand between my legs, rubbing me over my panties. I'm already wet, already needy. The touch sends electricity racing to my fingers and toes.
"Drew," I breathe. "Fuck me."
"This first." He pushes my panties to my knees.
His fingers brush my inner thighs. Even after all this time, I expect him to recoil when he touches my scars. But he doesn't. He traces a few with that soft touch of his.
Then his hand is on me.
I dig my hands into his chest as pleasure knots in my core. Why is he still wearing a shirt? I slide my hand under it, taking my time reacquainting myself with the hard muscles of his chest and stomach.
His dark eyes fix on mine. I hold his gaze as an orgasm builds inside me. Those expert hands of his.
Damn.
A few more strokes and all that tension knots tighter and tighter. I bite my lip so I won't scream as I go over the edge.
"Fuck, Drew," I groan. Pleasure spills through my pelvis as I come. It feels like it's been a million years. "I missed you so much."
"Missed you too." He pulls his t-shirt over his head and pushes his jeans and boxers off his hips.
He's naked.
I'm naked.
The shower is running.
Sometimes, life really is perfect.
He pulls the curtain back and helps me into the shower. Then he's there with me, the curtain in its proper place.
Warm water streams over my head and neck. My hair wets quickly. Then it's sticking to my cheeks, covering my eyes.
He laughs as he switches positions with me. He throws his head back to wet his hair.
We take turns soaping each other. We spend ages touching and kissing. It's like it's the first time. My hands still adore every inch of his skin. I trace each of his tattoos, each line of his muscles.
His fingers graze every inch of my skin. They settle on my chest. I love how much the man loves my boobs.
My eyelids press together. I groan against his chest. I press my palms against his stomach. One treads lower. It wraps around his cock.
Fuck, he's hard.
He's really fucking hard.
It never gets old. It still feels amazing that my best friend in the whole fucking world wants me as badly as I want him.
It's like a dream.
I stroke him until he's groaning then I look up into his eyes. "Fuck me."
His eyes are heavy with desire. He only barely manages to nod. His hands go to my hips.
He guides me into position—me facing the wall, him behind me. I place one palm against the wall for support.
Drew digs his fingers into my skin as his cock brushes against me.
I arch my back to grab more of him.
Slowly, he slides inside me. Each inch feels better than the last. More like I'm whole.
More like I'm home.
Fuck, I missed him so badly.
He holds onto my hips as he thrusts into me.
My eyes close. Conscious thought slips away. All the ni
ghts apart, all the afternoons I spent wishing he were there, all the dinners I wanted to brag about cooking—everything else fades away.
There's nothing in the world except our bodies in this shower.
He rocks into me with a steady motion. His thighs are shaking, his fingers digging into my skin.
He's close.
He was right. It's fast.
But I don't care. I want to feel his orgasm. I want him as wrecked with pleasure as I am.
A few more thrusts and he's there.
"Kara," he groans.
His breath hitches. His cock pulses as he comes inside me. He thrusts through the orgasm until he's spilled every drop.
When he's finished, he turns me around. His eyes find mine.
He slides his hand between my legs. "You need to come again."
If he insists.
I close my eyes and surrender to the pleasure filling my body.
Chapter Fifteen
Kara
Drew is downstairs, scooping veggie omelets onto ceramic plates. He motions to a cup of tea on the dining table.
"You sleep well?" he asks.
"Yeah." I take a long sip of my tea. Earl Grey. My favorite. "How are you awake?"
"Jet lag."
"Let's take a walk after breakfast. Daylight is supposed to help."
He laughs as he brings the plates, and his coffee, to the table. "Kendrick, you think I don't know the jetlag tricks? Been touring for the last four years."
"But you only had your first international tour a year ago."
He shakes his head. "Can't believe the lack of respect."
"Baby, you know I think you're a rock star." I allow myself the opportunity to check him out. He's wearing a t-shirt and boxers. It's too much clothing. I need that shirt gone so I can gawk at his tattoos. And his six-pack. And those v-lines. God, those v-lines. "But you can always play a song for me, to remind me."
"Can I?"
I nod. "Woo me with your beautiful voice."
"How about if I use my mouth for something else?"
My cheeks flush. "I can live with that."
"Can you?"
I nod. It's a casual nod, but it is a big deal. Before Drew, I never let guys touch me, much less stick their heads between my thighs.
Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade #5) Page 8
