71. Chapter Two
Chapter seventy-one
Carrie
“Well?” Reid challenges, his lips parting mine after a scorching kiss. “Have you ever fucked in a limo?”
“No,” I say, my hand flattening on his really hard and perfect chest, while my sex clenches in denial of my rejection about to follow. “I have not and I’m not starting now. Have you?”
“No,” he says. “Which makes it all the better that I do it with you. The only woman I plan to ever fuck again in this lifetime.” He kisses me and his hand slides under my shirt and over my breast.
“We paid a lot of money for this private limo,” he says. “Let’s enjoy it.”
“We?” I ask, catching his hand under my shirt but it does no good to stop him. His fingers shove down the lace of my bra.
“Yes. We. What’s mine is yours and just to be clear, you’re mine now.” He latches onto my nipple with his fingers and I moan with the sweet friction.
“Reid,” I whisper huskily.
“More, baby?” He rolls me to my back onto the long leather seat and then comes down on top of me. “You want my mouth on your nipple?”
“Stop,” I warn, clenching my thighs to no avail. His big body is separating them, and both of us have a leg dangling off the seat. “We can’t—”
He kisses me again, a deep, drugging kiss, while his hand squeezes my breast, and his thick cock nestles against my sex. I moan and he presses his cheek to mine, his lips at my ear. “I do believe you need my mouth on your nipple right now.”
“Reid,” I hiss, but it’s too late. He’s dragging my shirt up and over my head, tossing it aside and almost immediately his mouth is on one of my nipples, suckling, and licking. “What if—”
He kisses me. “I paid for privacy.”
I push on his chest. “We’re in Japan. How do you know you really paid for privacy?”
“It’s Japan, baby. They respect agreements here, more than Americans.” He kisses me again and his hand slides around my backside, squeezing and lifting me against him. “Maybe I should spank you right here.”
“No!” I say urgently, shoving on his chest again. “Not a chance in hell.”
He laughs low and sexy. “But I can fuck you?”
“Are you really trying to negotiate right now?” I challenge.
“I’m just trying to get inside my future wife.” He strokes a lock of hair from my face, his expression softening, his voice tender now. “Wife, Carrie. I never thought I’d call anyone that. I never thought I’d want anyone like that.”
My heart squeezes. “Husband,” I whisper. “From asshole to husband. I never—”
“You changed me, Carrie. You. Just you. And I need you to know that I will protect you. That I will never hurt you.”
My fingers splay on his cheek and I know he’s thinking of the girlfriend that gave up her life for him. “Reid, you can’t walk around afraid for me. That’s not living.”
“I will protect you,” he promises, his tone guttural, as if I haven’t even spoken, his mouth covering mine in a deep kiss, before he returns to my nipple, this time I don’t fight the pleasure. He needs this right now. Maybe I do, too. I arch into the intimate touch of his lips, his tongue, into the taut pull of his teeth against my nipple. My fingers dive into his blond hair but he moves down my body, his lips on my belly, his tongue flickering into my belly button even as he unsnaps my jeans.
This jolts me and I grab his hand, lifting my head to look at him. “Are you sure we’re safe in here?”
Those beautiful blue eyes of his meet mine. “I promise, baby. No one will interrupt us.”
“You’re sure?”
“I promise and—”
“You never break a promise,” I say, stopping him there. “That’s a very marrying quality, by the way.”
His lips, those brutally sexy lips, curve. “Good to know. Trust me now, Carrie.”
Trust him.
There is a question in his eyes, a roughness to his voice. He proposed, but on the heels of so many opportunities for me to question him. This appeal to “trust him now” isn’t about sex in a limo. It’s about so much more. “I do trust you,” I say, and my voice isn’t a whisper, just a tremble of emotion spoken quite clearly.
He studies me for several long beats and then tugs my jeans down, taking the tiny strip of silk I’m wearing with them, with my shoes following. I barely have time to process just how vulnerable I am before Reid pulls his shirt over his head. “So you know you’re never naked alone, not again. Not ever.”
Emotion wells in my chest and he is already on top of me, kissing me, his cheek pressing to mine as he whispers, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper back, only to have him slide down my body again and suddenly, or really not suddenly at all, his lips are back on my belly, fingers dragging along the seam of my slick wet sex.
I moan and tangle my fingers into his hair, trembling when his tongue flicks my clit, moaning as he suckles it. It’s then that I have a momentary out-of-body experience. I’m all but naked, in a limo, in Japan, with my future husband, who is really good with his tongue (another marrying quality), between my legs. His hand slides under my backside, and when I would swear I couldn’t just get lost in the moment, not here, in this place, I do. There is just this man, and the way he has owned my body from the moment we met, and now my heart with it.
He licks and suckles, his fingers stroking, delving inside me. I am lost in the budding tension low in my belly that promises sweet bliss. I arch into him. I moan. His hand cups my breast and teases my nipple. The pleasurable assault consumes me. He consumes me, and I try to resist where it will take me. I want this to last. I want the sweet bit of “almost” to stay right here and now, but it doesn’t happen. There is no warning. I tumble into release with a jerk of my body and I’m outside of reality, inside the bubble of pleasure exploding through my body.
I pant out several breaths in the aftermath. “Oh God. Oh God, that was—”
Reid is on top of me, kissing me, the taste of me on his lips, the taste of him on my lips. I am instantly craving what I have been denied. Him inside me. I need him. “Reid. Reid, I need—”
“Say it,” he says. “Tell me.”
“I need you.”
“Not good enough, baby. Say it.”
“I need you.”
“Say it, Carrie.”
“Fuck me already, will you?”
“More,” he demands.
“I need you inside me. Here in this limo and because I trust you that we won’t get caught.”
His lips curve, mischief dancing in the depths of his blue eyes. “You trust me, do you?”
“Yes, Reid Maxwell. I trust you, but I will hurt you if you don’t give me what I want.”
“Now that you have that ring on your finger, now that I’m your future husband, do I get to finally use those cuffs on you?”
“Yes, Reid, you can. As long as you remember I will give back as good as I get.”
His lips curve again. “That’s what I was looking for.”
He sits up and pulls me with him, and in a blink, I’m straddling him, his hand cupping the back of my head. “Now we fuck.”