Love in Motion (Disclosure #3)

by R. E. Hunter

  “I think you better get to getting me over that threshold, husband.”

  He chuckles as he hugs me tight to his chest and digs the key from his pocket. “Is there no romance anymore?”

  “I’ll give you romance,” I encourage, running my tongue up his neck.

  He groans as he inserts the key and—

  “It won’t open.”

  I lift my head and inspect the door. “What do you mean it won’t open? Just turn the damn key.”

  His eyes slice to mine. “I did. It’s stuck.”

  “Of course it is,” I huff as I roll my eyes. “Are you using the right key? What hotel still uses actual keys? There wasn’t a swipe card?”

  “You wanted to stay in a rustic lodge,” he quips.

  “At least I didn’t want to take a train cross-country.”

  That shuts him right up. Smart man.

  Turning the key again, he jiggles the handle and tries to work the door open. Nothing.

  “I’m just going to put you down for a sec.” He begins to lower me to the floor and I reinforce my grip around his neck, contorting myself to stay in his arms.

  “No, you can’t!”

  “Morgan, what on earth are you doing? Let me put you down.”

  I feel his muscles tremble with the effort of holding me up with one arm, but I don’t care. This isn’t how it goes. “You can’t put me down now, we have to make it over the threshold.”

  He blows out a frustrated breath. “Well unless you want wedding night sex outside the threshold, I need both hands to get the door open.”

  I tighten my grip again. “Figure it out.”

  His eyes flick to mine then narrow with mischief. Before I can get my bearings, I’m being tossed in the air and over his shoulder.

  “Brett!” I slap at his ass as I hang upside down, battling the layers of organza pooling around my head. “What are you doing?”

  “Figuring it out, babe.”

  He lets out a soft grunt and I feel his shoulder connect with the door.

  “And we’re in.”

  He carefully pulls me back over his shoulder and I slide my legs around his waist, my arms wrapping back around his neck. “Hi,” I whisper, digging my hands into the hair on the back of his head.

  “Hi, gorgeous.” He leans in, soft lips barely brushing mine, and I have to fight the urge to attack his mouth in the hallway. “You ready?”

  I nod. “Ready.”

  He makes a show of stepping over the threshold, then kicks the door shut behind us, owning me with his eyes. “It’s official now, babe. You’re mine.”

  And before I can respond, his lips are on mine, tongue coaxing and exploring my mouth as his hands roam freely.

  He breaks the kiss and gazes down at me. “Wife.”

  Wife. I love the way it sounds, all that it means and all that we’ve been through to get here. And the little growl of possessiveness underlying his tone has me needing to be possessed in every single way.

  “Yes, husband?” I chime, batting my eyelashes.

  A smile lights his face as he walks us back toward the king-sized bed, a welcome change from our cramped train cabin. “I like the way that sounds.”

  I lick my way up the side of his neck and nip his earlobe, whispering, “Make love to me, husband.”

  He releases his hold on me and I slowly slide down the length of his body, every nerve ending coming alive at the contact. Reaching behind me, he sweeps my long curls to the side, his fingers deftly working the eyelets on the back of my dress.

  “Say goodbye to Vera,” he whispers.

  “Goodbye Vera.” She falls to the floor, pooling at my feet, and I stare at her longingly, delighting in our time together until I feel Brett’s gaze hot on my skin. Vera who?

  His eyes rake over me as I stand in my Manolos (yes, they made it) and lacy wedding lingerie. I bite my bottom lip for effect.

  "Goddamn, woman.”

  He’s still fully clothed, tux perfectly tailored to fit his muscular body, and my mouth waters a little as I take him in. There is no other way to convey the level of sexiness my husband has achieved for our wedding other than to say that he actually is James Bond. And in this moment I’m tempted to ask him to keep the tux on and start talking British to me.

  Somehow I don’t think he’ll find this as amusing as I do, so I decide to make myself useful and help him undress instead. I step forward, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and work his bowtie free.

  He stands stock still, watching me as I work the buttons on his dress shirt, teasing my way down his muscular chest with hot kisses.

  I pull his shirt free and run my hand over his hard length, gripping his straining cock over his pants.

  He shudders, forcing out a breath, and I look up to find wild eyes trained on me.

  Cupping the back of my neck, he captures my lips in a searing kiss.

  “I know this is our wedding night, babe,” he bites out. “I’m trying so hard to be good. But I want to rip through that pretty little lace number, toss your hot ass on the bed, and fuck you ‘til you can’t walk straight.”

  My knees buckle, a wave of need washes over me. “I don’t need polite wedding night sex. Brett.” I walk my fingers down his happy trail and pop the top button on his pants. “I just need you. Take me however you want me.”

  Pupils dilating, he shakes his head as if arguing with himself. “No. I’m gonna take my time with you, Mrs. Parker.”

  He wraps around me again, and I’m liquid in his arms as he lifts me and tosses me onto the bed. I land with a bounce and immediately push up onto my elbows to watch as he strips out of the rest of his clothes. He’s perfect for me in every way. Six foot four inches of pure sex, and he’s all mine.

  Brett made me believe in magic. Not the pull-a-penny-out-of-your-ear mumbo jumbo but real magic. The kind you can only know if you’ve experienced the spellbinding power of my husband’s ginormous cock.

  It’s pointing right at me, jutting proudly from Brett’s hips, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to dive off the bed and somersault right onto it. I give that dismount a ten, Bob. She stuck the landing like a pro.

  I shake away my crazy thoughts but apparently Brett caught the goofy smirk on my face.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I sigh, feigning innocence as my eyes greedily roam his body.

  He stalks toward me and I scoot up the bed, giggling.

  “Nuh uh,” he chides. Grabbing my ankle, he pulls me back down the bed then climbs over me straddling my legs.

  He leans over me, biting my hardened nipple through the thin lace of my bra and I arch my back, pushing my breasts toward him.

  “You like that?” he asks, his voice gruff.

  “You know I do.”

  Popping the front clasp of my bra, he slips an arm behind my back and lifts me, tossing it aside. He teases my nipples until the buds are hard and swollen, before tracing a path with his tongue across my ribs and down my stomach.

  My core tightens as his lips skim the top of my underwear. His mouth moves lower still, hot breath on my sensitive skin making me writhe beneath him.

  His fingers tease the lacy edge of my thong, eyes heating.

  “We don’t need these anymore, do we?” He’s staring up at me from between my thighs and it’s all I can do to not lock my legs around his head.

  “Mm mmm,” I mumble, distracted by my need.

  “That’s what I thought.” Tearing away the flimsy fabric, he runs his tongue over me, eliciting a loud moan.

  “Is this what you want, babe?”

  He slips two fingers inside me, his mouth still working its magic, and I can barely think. I manage a nod.

  “I can’t hear you, Morgan.” He nips at my clit with his teeth and I nearly explode.

  “Yes, yes I want this,” I grind out, gripping the sheets.

  He removes his fingers and I nearly cry out at the loss. Before I can protest he’s poised above me,
his cock nudging my entrance.

  “Or do you want this?” He says as he pushes inside.

  “Oh, God. Yes, please.”

  He takes his time, slowly stroking in as I stretch to fit him. He drags himself out then slams back in, seating himself fully inside me.

  “So tight, babe,” he groans, burying his face in my neck as he begins to move in earnest.

  I wrap my legs around him, my fingers clawing at his back as my hips move with him. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you more.” He grips my hips and rolls us, bringing me on top. “I need to see you, gorgeous.”

  I straddle him, rocking back and forth on his cock, his hands cupping my tits as we move together.

  “Fuck, babe. You feel so good.” He pulls me down to his chest, wrapping his arms tight around me as he thrusts deep.

  Every movement is bliss, our bodies creating a delicious friction.

  “Oh, my God, Brett. I’m close.”

  He grips my ass as he drives into me and swivels his hips.

  I hear a faint knocking and smirk inwardly. I wish I could feel bad for the people in the room next to us as the headboard thuds against the wall, but I’m wrapped up in my husband’s magical cock.

  Brett slips a hand between us, his thumb grazing my clit and I come undone. Pleasure unfurls in my belly, pulsing through my veins, making my toes curl as I breathe out his name on a sigh. He gasps in my ear as he explodes into me and we continue to move together, slowly coming down.

  “Mmm,” he groans into my neck. “You’re fucking delicious.”

  I slide off his chest and nuzzle into his side. “You’re not so bad yourself, husband.”

  He chuckles, the deep sound vibrating through his chest, but as the post-sex haze begins to clear, I can swear I still hear knocking.

  “Babe, do you hear that?”

  He pushes onto his elbows, head cocked toward the suite door.

  A commotion sounds in the hallway and a muffled voice shouts his name. “Brett!”

  “What the fuck?” he glances at me, eyebrows raised, and I shrug. I don’t care who’s on the other side of that door, I’m just happy they didn’t interrupt my big O.

  Hopping out of bed, Brett pulls his tuxedo pants back on and heads for the door. I clumsily wrap the sheet around myself and follow.

  He pulls the door open a crack and it’s shoved wide, his mother appearing in the entrance.

  “Finally.” She attempts to push her way inside, but Brett refuses to move his arm so she can pass. “I’ve been knocking for ten minutes, what were you doing in there?”

  I slink behind Brett, adjusting the bed sheet. Had it only been ten minutes? Damn, we need to step up our game.

  “You’re kidding me, right, Mom? It’s my wedding night.”

  “Well, we’re having a major issue.”

  I roll my eyes. My mother-in-law means well, mostly. But she sometimes always seems to forget that she isn’t the royal princess she thinks she is. Shooting her some serious side-eye, I let out an exasperated sigh and head back to the bed, kicking my feet up and readying myself for the show.

  “What’s the issue, Mom?” Brett stands at the door, muscles tense. I want to feel bad for him, I really do, but I’m too distracted by the above-mentioned muscles to feel anything other than horny. What? It’s my wedding night.

  “Your father and I are sharing a room with your Great Aunt Mary.”

  “And this is an issue because?”

  “They gave us a special room.” My mother-in-law is growing increasingly flustered but it’s anyone’s guess as to why.

  “With wheelchair access?” Brett asks innocently.

  She vehemently shakes her head, but refuses to explain, just waving her hand toward the hallway and saying, “Come see for yourself.”

  I jump up and grab a robe from the closet, hand Brett his crumpled shirt from the floor, and we follow his mother down the hall.

  She mumbles to herself as we go, causing Brett and I to exchange confused glances.

  “I don’t understand what the problem is,” I whisper.

  He shrugs. “Maybe they wanted some alone time?”

  “But didn’t they plan on staying with Aunt Mary all along?”

  “I can hear you, you know,” my mother-in-law snaps, picking up her pace. “Just wait until you see, then you’ll understand.”

  I stick my tongue out at her back and Brett rolls his eyes.

  We turn the corner and finally come to their room. Brett’s father and his great aunt stand awkwardly outside the door.

  Aunt Mary, who happens to be a former nun (I know what you’re thinking, but she’s far too old and wrinkly for Father David), casts me a disapproving glance and I pull the robe tighter around me. It’s my damn wedding night, but one look from that woman and I feel like I need to be cleansed of my sins.

  Speaking of sin … Brett’s mother opens the door to their room and I immediately see the problem—and the hilarity. I desperately try to choke back the laughter that is stubbornly bubbling its way up my throat, because their hotel room can only be described as an erotic suite.

  A large round bed with fills the entirety of the room, and there isn’t a single chair or other surface to sit on. The bedding itself is shiny and silky, and it’s reflecting back in the mirrored ceiling.

  “Oh. My. God,” Brett breathes out, his eyes wide.

  I fight the urge to point and laugh hysterically, but can’t seem to stop myself from blurting, “Where’s the slot for quarters? I bet this bad boy vibrates!”

  Brett’s elbow connects with my side.

  “Ouch!” I give him a dirty look. “What’d you do that for?”

  Aunt Mary leans against the wall looking less than amused.

  “You can see our problem,” my mother-in-law snaps. “Apparently the hotel is at capacity and they have no more cots available.”

  I shrug. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

  “What is it you’d like us to do, Mom?” Brett asks.

  “Well being that you booked this hotel, I would expect you’d have some control over the things that go on.”

  My eyebrows hit the ceiling and I’m ready to give her what for, but Brett puts a hand on my back and responds for both of us. “Mom, I’m sorry this happened,” he says through a smirk. “But it’s our wedding night. So I’m going to take my wife back to our wedding suite, I’m going to hang the do not disturb sign, and if I hear one peep or knock on the other side of our door, there’s going to be a big problem. Call the front desk, go knock on the doors of every other hotel guest in this place if you have to, but do not come back to our door tonight.”

  “Well I—”

  “Lois, leave it,” his father interjects, placing a placating hand on his wife’s arm. “Let the kids have a wedding night, we’ll figure something out.”

  My jaw is on the floor as I stare at my sexy-as-fuck husband who just read his mother the riot act. I want to climb him like a tree and hump the shit out of him.

  Brett gives his Dad a nod, and I smile brightly at my in-laws and wave like a lunatic before he drags me back to our room.

  “That was so hot, babe,” I say, snuggling up beside him in bed.

  He shakes his head in disgust. “I can’t believe her, getting us out of bed on our wedding night. I knew we should’ve left for our honeymoon straight from the wedding.”

  “It’s fine.” I smooth a hand over his chest. “If it weren’t so hilarious and exactly what they deserve, I’d be more pissed about them fucking with my after sex glow.”

  He dips his chin, his lips finding mine. “Now we just have to make up for some lost time.”

  “Round two?”

  He nods, eyes heating as he traces a finger between my breasts and down to the belt of the robe. Flicking it open, he pushes the material aside leaving me bare.

  “You know,” he says, as he moves over me, kissing and licking his way across my collarbone. “I was really nervous about the lace. I thought f
or sure you’d take back your vows.”

  “Lace lingerie is a dime a dozen,” I say, sucking in a breath as he nips at my earlobe. “Vera is forever.”

  “We’re forever, babe.” He leans in, lips sweeping gently against mine. And then he smiles. “But Vera can come along for the ride.”

  He cups my ass, seating himself between my legs, and I’m ready for round two, three, four and more.

  I think I’ll let Vera sit this one out…

  Also by R.E. Hunter

  Undone (Disclosure #1)

  http://amzn.to/1n2RP61

  Unbroken (Disclosure #2)

  http://amzn.to/13KHGkG

  About the Author

  R.E. Hunter is the bestselling author of The Disclosure Series. A native New Yorker, she lives in Austin, Texas with her husband, their crazy kitten, and terror of a puppy. She spends her days writing angsty romance and chasing happily ever afters. When not writing, you can find her on the beach with a glass of wine and a book in her hand.

  Connect with R.E. Hunter

  @author_rehunter

  rehunterauthor

  rehunterbooks.com

  author.rehunter@gmail.com