Copyright © 2015 R.C. Martin. All Rights Reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other elements portrayed herein are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons or events is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Cover Design by Cassy Roop at Pink Ink Designs ©2015
Formatting by Brenda Wright at Formatting Done Wright
Made for Love Series
The Promises We Keep
Reckless Surrender
So Much More (Coming December 2015)
To Megan, who wanted a little more Grayson…preferably with his pants off.
Table of Contents
Dedication
June
July
August
September
March
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Contact R.C. Martin
Her mouth is moving. I know she’s speaking to me—to us—but I have no idea what she’s saying. I’m sure that I should be listening. She is my mother, after all. Not to mention, seeing as how the newly named Mr. and Mrs. Willis have just made their exit, whatever she’s trying to tell me—tell us, the matron-of-honor and the best man—it could be important. Yet, despite my best efforts, I catch only random snippets of her monologue.
“Their…flight…morning…brunch…gifts…home…tonight…beautiful…”
I can’t even pretend to be able to string together her words in an attempt to make coherent sentences out of them. All I can think about is the feel of his knuckles as he grazes his fingers up and down the side of my neck, his hand resting on my shoulder. To an ignorant bystander—like my mother—it’s a meaningless caress. To anyone else, his touch is just the affectionate act of a husband who adores his wife. To me, it’s a reminder. A promise. A declaration. To me, it’s the most delicate and tantalizing tease. With every brush of his fingers, the desire in the pit of my belly grows more and more unmanageable.
He knows it, too. He’s no fool.
I’m his wife, his lover, his woman. He knows he’s stirring me up right now—reminding me of our rendezvous in the restroom an hour ago; coaxing the memory of his mouth pressed against my neck as he moaned my name repeatedly whilst finding his release, buried deep inside of me.
That’s how he comes. Every time. Whispering, calling, moaning my name—his lips grazing my neck. Every. Time. Except once…
I fight to keep my eyelids from fluttering closed as I recall the most passionate night I’ve ever had in my life. It was as if we couldn’t get enough of each other. I had been away for the weekend, traveling with a small ensemble I play cello with for private events. It was the first time we had been away from each other since our wedding and it was the loneliest two nights I think I’ve ever endured. I didn’t expect for it to be so hard. I didn’t know how dependent I had become in one of the most natural and necessary acts, one that I’d been doing alone for most of my life. I figured sleeping was a basic routine I could fall into regardless of how much I missed my husband.
I was wrong.
I was exhausted upon my return. One look at his handsome face—into my favorite pair of brilliant green eyes—and I knew he felt the exact same way I did. When he greeted me with a smile and a gentle stroke of his fingers down my neck, I was his for the taking. We made love over and over—our hunger for one another seemingly insatiable. It was frenzied, heated, wild, sweaty, and beautiful. During our last round, I came so hard I thought I might literally pass out.
That was when he bit me.
A shiver of desire runs up my spine.
“Avery Jade O’Conner—are you even listening to me?”
“What? Hmm?” My eyes snap open as I reach for Grayson’s hand, pulling it away from my neck. He immediately laces his fingers with mine and then begins to trace slow circles with his thumb against my skin. I draw in a deep breath, willing myself to hear my mother and not think about the way he can make me lose control with that thumb—that same thumb he swirls in slow circles against my—
“Honestly, my child, what’s gotten into you?” my mother chastises.
I can feel the heat of my blush as my mind continues to frolic amongst my inappropriate thoughts. I shake Grayson’s hand away. Hearing his quiet chuckle, I bite the inside of my cheek, begging myself not to start giggling like a lovesick loon—which, if I’m honest, is exactly what I am.
“Um, I’m sorry, mom,” I finally manage. “It’s been such a long day. I’m just having a hard time focusing right now. Could we talk about this in the morning?”
“Yes. Alright. I suppose that’s fine. Don’t forget, brunch starts at—”
“Ten thirty,” Grayson cuts in with a smile, taking hold of my hand once more. “We’ll be there.”
“Well, I’m glad to know someone is listening to me.”
My husband chuckles again, resting a hand on mom’s shoulder before bending to kiss her cheek. “Goodnight, mom.”
I inadvertently squeeze his hand, my heart swelling at the sound of his endearment. It’s been almost a year since he married into my family. Almost a year since he’s been adopted by parents who love, cherish, and accept him for the wonderful man that he is. I cannot express how happy it makes me that I get to share every single bit of my life with him—including my family. He deserves to be loved so much more than his parents ever expressed.
“See to it that our girl gets some rest. We’ve clearly exhausted her today,” my mother says, interrupting my thoughts as she plants a kiss on my cheek.
This time, Grayson squeezes my hand. Tingles surge through my entire body as he begins to guide me out of the reception hall. Anticipation robs me of my breath. Knowing that we’re only an elevator ride away from privacy has me ignoring my tired feet as I try and keep up with my man’s long strides. Neither of us speaks a word while we wait for an elevator. As soon as the bell sounds, announcing our ride has arrived, I rush in and hit the button for the fourth floor.
“Sonny, you’re such a—” I start to playfully admonish him for teasing me, but then I turn and get a good look at him. His hooded eyes scour my face as he eliminates the space between us. He doesn’t touch me, but heat spreads from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet as I suck in a sharp breath.
Even in my four inch heels, he towers over me. As I stare longingly at him, aching to touch him, I can’t decide where I want my hands to go first. The dark auburn waves I love so much were freshly cut for today’s occasion. It’s just long enough for me to grip hold of.
My face burns in remembrance of the last time I tested its length.
His mane isn’t the only part of him that interests me, though. His broad shoulders and strong arms test the limits of his clothes and my hands are itching to strip him until he is bare. He hasn’t played college football in a year and a half, but he hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still made up of defined lines and irresistible muscle that makes me want to—
“You’re thinking naughty thoughts,” he murmurs, his voice deep and filled with lust.
I don’t ask him how he knows. I don’t have to. My blush gives me away every time. As if he can read my mind, he lowers his lips to brush a soft kiss against my cheek. He barely touches me, but that’s all it takes. I can’t hold it in anymore. I want him! I grab two fistfuls of his shirt and pull him close, crashing my mouth against his.
My girl plunges her tongue into my mouth, unapologetically taking what she wants—what she needs—and my erection strains against the confines of m
y fitted suit pants. I’ve lured her exactly where I want her. With one simple touch, I’ve made her impatient for me. I love it when she’s hungry for more. Better yet, when I tease her until she can’t stand it any longer and she begs for me to have my way with her. Tonight, I will take her there. I promised her earlier that I intended to worship every inch of her body, and so I will—until she is trembling with want.
When the elevator announces our arrival, I pull away from her abruptly. She gasps, still clinging to my shirt, and a smirk pulls at my lips. “I promised mom I’d let you get some rest,” I quip.
Using me as leverage, she pulls herself against me even tighter. Now, my hardened length is pressed firmly against her stomach. “Take me to bed, my love.”
Damn. This woman is mine. After all this time, it still blows my mind. I’m, without a doubt, the luckiest bastard on the planet.
In one swift motion, I bend down and scoop her up into my arms, cradling her against my chest. My Shorty clings to me and I waste no time getting us down the hall and into our room. I kick the door shut with my foot just as Avery claims my mouth once more. She can have it. It belongs to her. I tell her as much as I deepen the kiss. She moans in response and I feel myself grow harder. She excites me like no one ever has before.
I set her down next to the bed and she immediately turns her back to me. I stifle my amusement at her impatience and kiss her bare shoulder instead. “Sonny,” she sighs. “Could you please—” She sucks in a sharp breath as I trace the tip of my tongue across her skin and up the side of her neck.
“Let your hair down, sweetheart,” I instruct, whispering into her ear. “Then I’ll help you out of your dress.”
She nods and immediately starts pulling out pins, sending her glossy, black mane down her back. As she works to complete her task, I unfasten the tie from around my neck and begin loosening buttons down my shirt. Just as I rid myself of the garment, leaving me in my undershirt, she looks at me from over her shoulder. Her task complete, she gathers her hair to one side and waits patiently.
As promised, I unzip her dress. It slides off of her effortlessly, leaving her standing in a pool of pale blue fabric. She’s not wearing a bra, so her body is bare except for the lacy panties that are cut to accentuate her flawless backside. When she turns to face me, I’m vaguely aware that my breathing has turned ragged. She’s as gorgeous as ever—my wife, my lover, my very best friend. She slays me. Every part of me—my heart, my body, my soul—she owns.
Without a word, she begins to undress me. She pushes my tank up as high as she can reach and I pull it over my head before discarding it on the floor. I watch her as she unfastens my belt and decisively pulls down my pants and my briefs, freeing my aching cock. Standing to her full height, she peppers my chest with kisses as I step out of my pants, shoes, and socks. She squeals and giggles when I take hold of the back of her thighs, just below her butt, and hoist her up. She wraps her legs around my waist as she grabs onto my shoulders.
“My shoes,” she murmurs as I lay her across the bed.
“I want them on,” I reply with a grin and a wink.
“Okay,” she says sweetly. “Just don’t rip my panties. I really like these ones.”
My grin turns wicked and I chuckle before planting a quick kiss against her lips. “No promises.”
“Sonny, I mean it. I—”
Seeking to distract her, I close my mouth around one of her hardened nipples. I cover her other perfect, petite breast with my hand, gently squeezing what is mine. She arches her back, all words forgotten as she buries her fingers in my hair, signaling for me to continue. I suck, nibble, and lick to my heart’s content before showing the same amount of attention to her other side.
We neglected to turn the light on when we came in. The moon shining through the window is the only thing illuminating the room. Yet, even in the dim natural light, I know my girl is blushing. As I leave a trail of wet kisses up her chest and along her neck, I can feel the added heat of her skin brought on by her excitement. She turns her head, reaching for my mouth with her own, but I deny her—grazing my lips across her cheek before making my way back down her body. She whimpers her disappointment and I playfully pinch her side. She squirms and breathes an airy laugh.
I continue to shower her with kisses, down one leg and then up the other, before I encourage her to turn onto her stomach.
“Sonny?”
“Yes, sweetheart?” I sweep her hair from off of her back and lick my way up her spine. She shivers and I have to give my dick a few strokes to calm myself down.
“I want you,” she whispers.
“I want you, too.” I mold my hands over her ass and squeeze.
“Sonny?”
“I need you on your knees, Shorty.” She starts to lift her head and shoulders, but I place my hand in the center of her back to stop her. “No, Shorty—just half of you.”
“Okay,” she murmurs. As she inches up on her knees, propping her lower half up away from the bed, I relish in the amount of control I have in this moment. She’s mine—mine in ways words can’t even express. She trusts me, and only me, to bring her the greatest pleasure she has ever known. She trusts me to put her desires above my own. She knows that I will always take care of her and she does my bidding. Every time.
I turn onto my back and position myself under her. I can smell her arousal and I wonder how much longer I can wait before I can’t stand being on the outside looking in. I blow a breath against the lace that obscures my final destination. She whimpers and spreads her legs a little wider, lowering herself closer to my face. I chuckle as I press a kiss against her core.
“Sonny—oh, Sonny, please? I don’t want to wait anymore,” she pleads.
I drag my tongue over her drenched panties and she moans. I reach up and push the lace out of my way before licking her once more. When she starts to tremble, I dive in, holding nothing back as I fuck her with my tongue. I've worked her up so much, she comes in no time at all.
She's delicious and sweet as pie.
As soon as I pull my mouth away, she flops onto her back and blows out a heavy sigh. “Have I worn you out already?” I tease, crawling on top of her. She shakes her head as she reaches for my face and pulls me close, pressing her lips to mine.
“I want more,” she tells me, our mouths still adhered to one another. I reach down and cup my hand around her pussy. “No,” she insists. “I need you.”
I make room for myself between her legs and rest my cock against her slick pussy. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” she murmurs, wrapping her legs around me. “Please.”
“Sweetheart, you seem to be forgetting something,” I speak softly against her ear. “There's a fine piece of lace in my way. Either set me free or—”
“Rip them. I'm not letting you go. Make love to me, Grayson.”
“Mrs. O’Conner?" I say, closing my fist around her panties.
“Yes?” she breathes.
“I love you.”
He tears and discards my panties in haste. I’ve always considered the act animalistic and totally caveman, but it never ceases to turn me on even more. Now, I’m blessed with the gift of knowing that he’s perhaps not as patient as he seems; perhaps the countless minutes of his agonizingly sensual and frustratingly pleasurable caresses have stirred his desperate want as much as it has stirred mine. My body is all but screaming for him to posses me in that way only my husband can.
He rests his heavy cock between my folds and slides his length over my clit. The heat in the pit of my stomach burns with an intensity I cannot control and I moan—or was that a whine? Then he kisses me. His mouth hot, his tongue twisting with mine, I feel like I can’t get enough of him. I wrap my arms around his neck, needing him closer, wishing I was somehow better at expressing just how much I love him and just how much I want him!
I feel my arousal dripping out of me and another sound escapes my throat. This time, I’m sure it’s a whine. I can’t wait anymore. I t
ry showing him, squeezing my legs around him even tighter. The heel of my shoe digs into his firm backside, but I can't bring myself to worry about it. He growls and rubs himself against me once more—coating his hardened length in my unbelievable amount of wetness—but he still withholds himself from me.
I pull my lips away from his and gasp, gulping down a much needed breath. Then I peer through the darkness into his eyes. I beg with my own and he responds, resting his forehead against mine as he slides into me. He takes his time and doesn’t stop until he’s completely sheathed—until we are one body. One flesh.
In college, my star quarterback was fondly referred to as Big Red. I always thought it was appropriate, considering his height and his hair—but it wasn’t until we got married that I realized Big Red was a bit of an understatement. He’s huge. It still impresses me that he’s able to fit inside of my little body. It’s overwhelming in the most blissful sort of way.
He eases his way out of me and then comes back even slower. I’m trembling. I want him to go faster—but at the same time, I don’t. He feels sensational and unlike before, in the bathroom during my sister’s wedding reception, this moment isn’t meant to be rushed. He’s speaking to me, singing to me, serenading me, seducing me—he’s loving me and I adore it.
I get lost in his eyes as I surrender to him, trying to reciprocate what he is giving me right now. We don’t speak, we just feel. My second orgasm begins to build and I hold him tighter as my breathing becomes even more irregular. I want so desperately for us to come together.
I reach up one of my hands and gently run my fingers down his cheek. “Grayson,” I murmur, my voice softer than a whisper.
He nods in response and increases his pace just a little bit, trying to catch up to me. My insides respond instantly and I can’t help but to free another uninhibited groan. It takes everything within me to hold on—to wait for him. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep it together much longer, and then I feel him getting close. He buries his face in my neck just as I begin to lose control.
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