by J. Daniels
“Reese! I’m going to throw up.” The ground beneath me begins to spin as he carries me up the stairs and into the house. I bring one hand up and cover my eyes. “I’m serious. Can you not go all caveman on me right now? Drunk Dylan is getting dizzy.”
He shifts me in his arms, bringing me down and cradling me against his chest. I immediately stick my face in his neck and inhale, wrapping my arms around him as we begin the climb up the second set of stairs. I feel his lips on my forehead. “Must you always challenge me? You know it makes me crazy.”
“Mmm. I love you, too.” I press kisses to his neck, feeling the vibration of his growl against my lips. “Do you like my shoes?” I ask, kicking my feet in the air as he pushes the door to our bedroom open. I tilt my head up and see his eyes darken, feeling his intensity hit me like a bullet.
“Very. I want them digging into my back while I fuck the breath out of you.”
Holy Hell. Yes. Tonight. Please.
He drops me on my feet at the foot of the bed, keeping his arms wrapped around my back. I drop my head against his chest with a soft thump.
“How much did you have to drink?”
“Not sure. A few bottles, maybe,” I reply, keeping my head down. Definitely a few bottles. I hear his gruff exhale, prompting me to raise my head. “Relax, Mr. Sassypants. I was only slightly tipsy shaking my ass at the club.” I cover my mouth with my hand, muffling my giggle. Mr. Sassypants. Good one.
“That gives me no comfort, Dylan.”
I drop my hand and wrap it around his waist. “Well, what did you guys do tonight? I’m sure you weren’t angels.”
Keeping me in his arms, he turns us so the back of my legs hit the bed. “We went out to dinner and then came back here.”
I turn my head up to him. “That’s it? What kind of a bachelor party is that?”
“I didn’t care about having a bachelor party; you know that. Now, stop talking and get on the bed.”
Oh, hello, bossy Reese.
I bite my lip to contain my smile, doing as I’m told and stretching out on my back. “Are you going to fuck me now?”
He leans over me, grabbing the hem of my dress with both hands. “No,” he sternly replies as he tugs my dress in separate directions, ripping it up the middle.
“No?”
His hands move higher underneath the material, brushing against my upper thigh. His eyes lock onto mine. “No,” he repeats, pulling again and splitting my dress even higher. My garter and panties are revealed to him in the process. His eyes appreciate the sight with an endearing caress while his lips remain in a hard line.
“What do you mean ‘no’? You said you wanted me digging into you with my shoes.” Bending my knee back, I press the sole of my heeled foot against his crotch and apply the tiniest bit of pressure. Keeping one hand on my dress, his other grabs my ankle and he gives me a warning look. I shoot him one back, my tipsy state giving me the courage I need. “I want to get fucked. By you.” In case clarification is needed.
He pushes my foot down and grabs the two halves of my dress, locking eyes with me as he yanks the remaining material apart, exposing me completely. I lay underneath him, practically naked, and I see the struggle in his eyes to stay angry with me. But he manages. “You’re not coming tonight, Dylan. Not after going out in public in this shit.” He pulls the shredded material out from underneath me and tosses it onto the floor. “And don’t even think about trying to handle that situation on your own. If I hear one moan or sexy little whimper out of you, I’ll spend the rest of the night withholding your orgasm.”
My eyes widen at his threat. Shit. That sucks. He’s crazy-good at that. I cross my arms over my chest, blocking his undeserved view as he brings my foot in front of him, his fingers working the strap around my ankle. “Whatever. If I don’t get off, then you don’t get off either. You’ll be suffering as much as I will.”
He drops my shoe onto the floor and arches his brow at me. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” I state with a clipped tone. My other shoe gets tossed over his shoulder, but I don’t care where because all my attention is drawn down to his hands as he works his cock free and begins stroking it. I gasp and reach out for it, my mouth watering at the sight. “Oh, my God. Let me do that.”
“No.” He lets his khakis slide down to mid-thigh as he stares at my body, his hand working his glorious cock. I’ve never seen Reese jerk off before, and I’m kicking myself for never requesting that he do it in front of me. This is insanely hot, probably one of the hottest things to witness. His upper body is flexed completely, every muscle bulging out at me, screaming for my hands. And then there’s his cock.
That. Cock.
So desperately hard and making my pussy ache with a stark need, because it belongs there. He strokes it leisurely, letting this moment last as his breathing becomes irregular. Sweet Jesus. I begin to pant right along with him.
I sit up, putting my face at the perfect height. “Fuck my mouth.”
He pushes me back down and continues pulling his cock. “No.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you get off on that. And I told you, you’re not coming tonight.”
Goddamn it. Why do I have to enjoy sucking him off so much?
Because it’s awesome.
I grunt my irritation, slipping a hand between my legs. He grabs my wrist with his free hand and pins it against my body, angling himself over me. “I told you no,” he grates out through clenched teeth, his lips curling back and revealing them to me. “You knew I wouldn’t approve of that dress, so why did you wear it?”
My eyes stay glued to the hand around his cock, ignoring everything else around me. I see the veins in his arms jut out as he gives me the biggest tease of my life.
“Dylan.”
“Huh?” I croak, reaching up and placing my hand to my chest. It’s heaving, forcefully pushing against my palm. He slows his stroking, prompting me to look into his eyes. “I wanted you to rip it.”
His eyes widen, sparkling with curiosity.
I swallow the uncomfortable lump that’s lodged itself in my throat before explaining myself. “I… I think it’s really hot when you get all crazy over what I wear. You like showing me who has control, but I see you struggling with it when you see me in outfits like that. I like knowing I can do that to you. You’re not easily unraveled.”
He releases my wrist and grips my hip, digging into my skin as he slides me closer to him. He’s hovering above me, close enough to touch, but he won’t let me. His face relaxes slightly. “Your body belongs to me. When you wear shit like that and I’m not around, other men think they have a shot at what’s mine. They don’t. And I’m half-tempted to go to that club and kill every motherfucker in there who looked at you.”
I place my hand on his chest, lightly applying pressure. “Hey. It was just a stupid dress. Are you going to act like this on Saturday and go on a killing spree at the Whitmore? The bride gets a lot of attention on her big day.”
One eyebrow raises. “Are you planning on wearing something like that?” I smile sweetly and shake my head, my eyes dropping to watch him return to his task. “You want to see me lose control?”
“Yes,” I answer breathlessly.
His eyes roll closed and he starts stroking faster, gripping tighter, breathing heavier. I can only lie back and watch, completely fascinated and way the hell turned on. “Fuck,” he pants, eyes flashing open. “You unravel me every second, love. Every time I look at you.” He groans loudly, finding his release and shooting it onto my stomach. His nostrils flare as his eyes slowly reach my face. “My eyes only. Remember that.”
I nod, unable to form a verbal response. My mouth is too dry for words at the moment.
He straightens up and lets his pants and boxers fall to the floor, stepping out of them. His shirt is removed next and I watch in complete awe as he walks toward the bathroom, his glorious, bare ass tempting me to give my clit the attention it’s screaming for. “Don’t even
think about it.”
His voice cuts into my lustful thoughts and I stop myself from responding with a lie. Because that’s exactly what it would be. I was thinking about it; it’s hard not to at the moment. He returns with a small towel and proceeds to wipe me clean.
“Reese?”
“Yeah?” He chucks the towel across the room, returning his eyes to mine. And there it is, that endearing look he seems to reserve just for me. The look that makes my heart swell against my ribs. No tension in his face, no tight lips or creased brow, just him. The man I’m going to marry.
I turn and glance at the alarm clock. I was originally going to threaten to withhold his orgasm someday, but that look of his totally gets to me. Like it always does. “Six days.”
His eyes flick quickly to his left, verifying what I’ve just told him. A light smile touches his lips as he climbs onto the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard. He taps his lap, eyes soft and no longer laced with anything besides affection. I can’t resist that look. And I want my spot. Crawling into his lap, I lay my cheek against his chest and nuzzle away. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer before he bunches the covers around my waist. My favorite smell in the world fills me, intoxicating me further, and I feel my body relax into his as my sexual frustrations slip away.
“So, Juls said this account with Bryce was worth a lot of money. Is that why you’re doing it?”
I feel his fingers play with the ends of my hair as it falls down my back. “No. I’d never work with somebody who made you uncomfortable because I want to get paid. It’s just really important, that’s all.”
I lean back, not feeling satisfied with his cryptic answer. “Why?”
We stare at each other for several seconds before he speaks. “Do you trust me?” My back stiffens and he notices, prompting him to grab my hips and pull me closer. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then trust me when I say it’s important. I can’t talk to you about it; not yet, anyway. But I will. I promise I’ll tell you everything when it’s all said and done.”
I don’t understand how any part of Reese’s job can be secretive; he’s an accountant, not in the mob. But I do trust him. Completely. So I’m not going to question this. “Promise me something?”
He smiles cunningly. “Depends on what it is.”
I grab his face and lean in, brushing my lips against his. “Don’t do anything that would keep you from marrying me. I will be a very angry bride if you spend our wedding day in jail.”
He laughs against my mouth. “Nothing could keep me away, love.”
I drop my head back down and close my eyes.
Nothing could keep me away either.
I’m never drinking again.
My head is pounding, my stomach is rolling, and my face is plastered to the cold tile of the bathroom floor.
This is not a good look for me. Nor is it one I wear often.
I’ve puked most of the night, the wave of nausea hitting me hard sometime after I passed out on Reese’s chest and sending me barreling head-first toward the toilet. But miraculously, I’m a quiet puker, so my well-rested fiancé was kept blissfully unaware about my nightly vomit-fest. That is, until he caught me praying to the porcelain God this morning, which is where I’ve spent most of my time while he packs for both of us. I’m dressed now, so at least progress has been made.
I feel his hand on my hip as I stay in my permanent fetal position. “Here, love. I brought you some water and two Advils. Have you thrown up recently?”
I shake my head, keeping my eyes closed.
“Do you think you’re going to throw up any more?”
I shake my head again. I haven’t thrown up in a least an hour, but I also haven’t tried moving either. I hear the soft clink of a glass and then feel his arms wrap me up as he lifts me off the floor, effortlessly as usual. I lay my head against his chest until he shifts me in his arms. I feel the bathroom countertop underneath my thighs as he sets me down on it and settles between my legs.
He picks up the glass of water and holds it out to me with the two pills in his other hand. “Take these. It’ll help. And we’ll get you some ginger ale on the plane for your stomach.”
I swallow the pills and drink close to half the glass before setting it down next to me. My head drops forward and my shoulders slouch. “I hate having you see me like this.”
He laughs quietly. “Like what?
I tuck my hair behind my ear and groan, keeping my eyes on my legs. “Like a train wreck. This isn’t like me; I can usually hold my alcohol. I don’t think I’ve gotten sick since the singing-telegram tequila incident.” My stomach churns at the word tequila. That hateful bitch and I can’t be in the same room together. I bring my fingers up to my face and begin massaging my temples. “What time do we have to leave?”
“Soon. The cabs will be here in thirty minutes.” His hands run down my bare arms, gently applying pressure. “Can I do anything else? Do you need anything?”
I shake my head before dropping it against his chest. “Just you.”
He presses a kiss to my hair. “You got me.”
The sound of our bedroom door opening alerts us both, and Ian emerges in the bathroom doorway. He surveys my pathetic condition as he leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms and his ankles. “What the hell did you and Juls drink last night? She’s been throwing up since 3:00 a.m.”
I shrug, barely moving my shoulders an inch. All my strength seems to have left me. “Just champagne. We had some wine at the spa, but not enough to make us sick.” I grab onto Reese and slide off the countertop. “Let me go see her.”
I pull my hair into a messy bun as I walk through our bedroom and into the hallway. My head still feels like it’s in a vise, but my stomach seems to have settled. I see the suitcases lined up outside the rooms, ready to be taken out. Four suitcases. Reese, Ian, Juls, me. Where are the others? Joey’s door is still closed and I panic that he and Billy might oversleep and miss the flight. Without knocking, or thinking, I open his door and barge in like I own the damn place.
Three heads pop up in the bed. Three very startled heads. And one of those heads becomes very alarmed being sandwiched between the other two.
“Brooke! What in the fuck are you doing in here?” Joey grabs the covers and pulls them up into his lap, covering him and Billy.
“Relax, baby. You invited her,” Billy says, before lying back on his pillow.
Joey looms over him. “I sure as shit didn’t. Did you?”
Billy grimaces before rolling over, pulling the covers over his head.
Brooke rubs her eyes and smiles. “You invited me, Joey. You also called me fabulous, I think, and said I’m welcome to join you guys anytime you go out.” She slips out of bed, revealing herself in a man’s T-shirt that barely covers the line of her panties. She flattens her palm against her forehead, frowning. “Oh, hello, hangover.”
“I would never invite you to share a bed with us. And get the hell out of my T-shirt. That’s one of my favorites.”
“Calm down, JoJo. You most certainly did ask her to share your bed. Drunk Joey is a major fan of Brooke,” Juls’ voice comes from behind me. I spin around a bit too quickly and have to steady myself with a hand on the wall. And then I look at her. She’s dressed in skinny jeans and a blouse, her hair pulled back into a bun and her makeup looking fresh. Even if she has been throwing up since 3:00 a.m., she doesn’t look it. Julianna Thomas has never looked anything less than chic a day in her life. She grins at me. “Sweets, can I talk to you?”
I nod, turning back around. “Cabs will be here in thirty minutes. You guys better get moving.” All three bodies scramble out and around the bed while Joey quietly grunts his disapproval of the situation. I follow Juls out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and down the flight of stairs.
“What’s up? And why don’t you look like shit? I know I do,” I say as we make our way into the kitchen. She holds a cup of coffee out to me, and I take it with
an appreciating moan.
“I think I’m pregnant.”
I inhale the biggest, hottest mouthful of coffee known to mankind when I hear her statement. The scalding beverage slides down my throat, searing my tissue as I cough it up and hang my head over the sink. Mouth open, I let it run out down my chin and into the deep basin. “Owwwahhhhhh.”
Her hand touches my shoulder. “Oh, shit. Are you okay? Do you want some water or milk or something?”
I wave her off, wiping my chin with the nearby hand towel. “No. But maybe next time wait ‘til after I’ve put my coffee down before you say something like that.” I let my mouth hang open, inhaling the cool air that fills the kitchen while my mind processes her words to me. I feel my slightly-sore lips curl up. “You think you’re pregnant? I didn’t even know you guys were talking about that yet.”
She hesitates slightly before nodding with quick drops of her head. “Well, Ian wants babies yesterday. I always thought I’d wait until I was in my thirties, but it’s all he talks about. And the more he talks about it, the more I think about it.” She plays with the buttons on her blouse, looking over my shoulder in the direction of the stairs. I turn and see Ian and Reese walking down the stairs with our suitcases, both of them smiling in our direction before they walk out the door. I return my attention back to Juls as she begins twisting the diamond stud in her ear. “My doctor told me it can sometimes take a while for birth control to get out of your system completely. Years for some women. So I stopped taking the pill a few months ago and didn’t tell Ian.”
I step closer to her, the excitement building in my gut. “Are you late?”
“My periods are irregular. I really haven’t had one since I stopped taking the pill. But, my boobs are really sensitive and there’s no way the amount of champagne I drank last night could’ve made me that sick. I can usually handle way more than that and not have my head stuck in a toilet.”
My thoughts begin to scramble as I lean back against the counter and stare at the floor. I can usually handle way more than that, too. I was pretty tipsy last night, but I wasn’t that drunk. Not to the point of it warranting the dry-heaving session I endured for several hours; at least I don’t think. And my periods are so damn sporadic I never know when to expect them. But I got my shot a few months ago, so I should be covered. There’s no way I could be…
