Chapter 11
The Wedding Day
Kimber
The heavy oak door of the suite clicks shut behind us, the sound echoing in the opulent silence. Lucian’s arm is a steel band around my waist, and his other hand is tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck, holding me close.
The scent of him—clean, spicy, and undeniably male—fills my senses, making my head swim.
We haven't even taken in the room yet, the sprawling view of the city lights at night, the plush cream-colored carpet, the enormous king-sized bed draped in what looks like a cloud of white silk. All I can see, all I can feel, is him.
"Finally," he growls against my lips, the vibration of his voice shooting straight down my spine.
His kiss is bruising, hungry, a testament to the agonizingly long day of formalities and forced smiles.
I kiss him back with just as much ferocity, my hands fisting in the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, pulling him impossibly closer.
My teeth scrape his lower lip, and he groans, a low, primal sound that makes my pussy clench with need.
"Lucian," I breathe his name, a plea and a promise all at once. "I've been waiting all day for this.”
"What? For me to do this?" In a single, fluid motion, he sweeps me off my feet. I let out a surprised squeal, my arms looping around his neck as he lifts me effortlessly, one arm under my knees and the other supporting my back. I’m a bride in her white dress, being carried over the threshold by her new husband. It’s so cliché, so utterly perfect, that a laugh bubbles up from my chest.
He doesn't carry me far. With a few long strides, he's standing beside the bed, his dark eyes burning into mine. There’s a wicked, playful glint in them that makes my stomach flip.
"Hold on tight, Mrs. de Luca," he murmurs, using my new name for the first time.
Then he throws me. I land on the bed with a soft bounce, the layers of my dress and tulle petticoats puffing up around me like a cloud. The impact knocks the air from my lungs for a second, but it’s followed by a peal of pure, uninhibited laughter.
I prop myself up on my elbows, my hair already a mess around my shoulders, and watch him shrug off his jacket. His movements are economical, full of a barely leashed energy that is all for me. He’s on the bed in an instant, his knees bracketing my hips.
"You look so fucking beautiful like that," he says, his voice a low rumble. "All spread out and waiting for me."
His hands are on me then, large and warm, tracing the curve of my waist through the satin of my gown. But his touch doesn't linger. With a firm grip, he grips my hip and shoulder, and in one smooth, dominant move, he flips me over.
My face is pressed into the cool, silky duvet, my ass now raised in the air. The position is utterly submissive, completely exposed, and a fresh wave of arousal drenches my panties. I can feel the heat of his body hovering over me, the ghost of his breath on the back of my neck.
He doesn't say anything, just lets the anticipation build. I hear the rustle of fabric, and then I feel his hands on my dress, gathering the voluminous material and slowly, deliberately, pulling it up over my hips and back, until it’s bunched around my waist.
The cool air hits my exposed skin, and I shiver. I’m wearing a white lace garter belt, sheer silk stockings, and a pair of tiny, lacy panties that are already soaked through. I hear his sharp intake of breath.
"Jesus, Kimber," he chokes out. "You're trying to kill me.”
I smile into the bedding, wiggling my hips enticingly.
"Is it working?”
His answer isn't in words. It’s in the feeling of his strong hands spreading my ass cheeks, exposing my most private places to his hungry gaze. And then, his mouth is on me.
He doesn't start gentle. He licks a long, hot stripe from my clit all the way to my tight little hole, and my entire body jolts as if I’ve been struck by lightning. His tongue is wicked, talented, and he knows exactly how to use it.
He circles my clit, teasing it with light, flicking touches before sucking it into his mouth, hard. I cry out, my fingers clutching at the bedding as pleasure, sharp and intense, courses through me.
He eats my pussy like a man starved, his face buried between my cheeks. His tongue delves into my wet hole, fucking me in shallow, teasing thrusts while his nose presses against my ass. The sounds are obscene—the wet, slurping noises he’s making, my ragged moans and whimpers.
He adds a finger, sliding it into my cunt to the knuckle, curling it just right to hit that magical spot inside me.
"Lucian, oh god, right there," I gasp, pushing back against his face, shamelessly grinding my pussy against his mouth.
He adds a second finger, stretching me, filling me, his tongue never ceasing its delicious assault on my clit. The pressure builds low in my belly, a coiling spring of pure ecstasy. His fingers pump faster, harder, his tongue flicking relentlessly.
"Come for me, Kimber," he commands, his voice muffled by my flesh. "Come all over my face."
That’s all it takes. The spring snaps, and my orgasm crashes over me in a blinding, soul-shattering wave. I scream his name as my pussy convulses around his fingers, spasming with a force that steals my breath. My whole body trembles, and I collapse bonelessly onto the bed, panting and spent.
He doesn't stop immediately. He laps at me gently, cleaning my cum with his tongue, drawing out the last tremors of my release.
When he finally pulls away, I feel empty, but only for a moment.
I hear the soft thud of his shoes hitting the floor, the whisper of his zipper.
I feel the dip of the mattress as he kneels behind me again.
His hands are on my back, expertly finding the row of tiny buttons on my gown.
He undoes them one by one, his knuckles brushing against my spine.
I shiver at his touch. He peels the dress down my arms, the heavy silk whispering against my skin until it’s a puddle of white fabric around me.
He unfastens my bra, and I shrug it off.
Now I’m completely bare except for the garter and stockings.
He turns me over, and his gaze is so intense, so full of raw, naked emotion that it takes my breath away. He looks at me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen.
"Kimber," he whispers, and then he’s kissing me again.
This kiss is different from the frantic ones before.
It’s deep, slow, and full of a breathtaking tenderness.
I can taste myself on his tongue, and it’s the most erotic thing in the world.
His hands roam my body, learning every curve and dip.
He cups my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my already-hardened nipples, sending little jolts of pleasure straight to my core.
He settles between my thighs, his hard, thick cock nudging at my entrance. He looks into my eyes, his dark ones searching mine.
"I love you," he says, his voice thick with emotion.
"I love you, too," I reply, my voice catching in my throat.
And then he pushes inside me. He sinks into my wet heat in one slow, deep stroke, filling me completely.
I gasp at the sheer perfection of it, the way he stretches me, the way he fits inside me as if he were made for me.
He stays still for a moment, letting me adjust, his forehead resting against mine.
Our breaths mingle, our hearts beating in the same frantic rhythm.
Then he begins to move. His thrusts are slow at first, deliberate, each one a powerful statement of possession. The raw, real lovemaking we’d craved all day is finally happening. It’s not frantic or desperate; it’s deep and profound, a connection that goes far beyond the physical.
Our bodies move together in a primal, ancient dance, his cock stroking every sensitive inch of my inner walls.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting him thrust for thrust. The room fills with the sounds of our pleasure—our soft moans, the slap of skin against skin, his whispered words of love and praise.
His name is a prayer on my lips as he drives us both higher, closer to the edge, our passion a burning, all-consuming fire.
This honeymoon is definitely a winner.