Chapter 13 #2
“What’s goin’ on in your head?” he asked softly. “You checked out.”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, Esther,” he cajoled. “Where’s the woman that put her foot down about sleepin’ arrangements before we were married? Didn’t have a problem tellin’ me what was up then.”
“We’re married,” I blurted, widening my eyes.
Otto chuckled. “Yeah, we are.”
“My parents don’t even know.”
The smile left his face instantly. “I know, baby. I’m sorry they weren’t there today.”
I swallowed hard and gave him the truth. “Even if they’d known about it, they wouldn’t have come.”
“Doubt your dad would show his face around the clubhouse,” he agreed darkly.
“No,” I corrected, shaking my head. “Even if—” I searched for the right words. “Even if none of the other stuff was going on. The stuff about the guns, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“They still wouldn’t have come.”
“Well, that’s bullshit.”
“I didn’t marry in the church.”
“If you wanted a church weddin’, why didn’t you say somethin’?”
“No, not a church. Our church. I married someone who isn’t a member.”
“Ah,” he said with a sigh. “Can’t help that, sugar.”
“I know.”
“Havin’ regrets?”
Even though he was watching me, waiting for my answer, I thought about it for a moment.
“No,” I said finally, taking in the wide expanse of his chest, the bicep under his cheek, the eyes that mine in understanding. “There are a lot of things I wish were different, but not you. I’m glad it was you.”
“Coulda been worse,” he mused, reaching out to brush my hair off my cheek. “You coulda hooked up with Rumi.”
“Ew,” I blurted without thought.
Otto burst out laughing.
“I mean, your brother is nice,” I backpedaled. “I just don’t see him that way—”
Otto kept laughing. “It’s all good,” he said between chuckles. “I wouldn’t wish Rumi on anyone.”
“He’s with Nova. It’s not like he would’ve hooked up with someone else anyway,” I pointed out over his laughter.
“Poor Nova,” Otto said, grinning.
I shifted on the bed, trying to get more comfortable.
“Come here.” He leaned up on one elbow and reached under the sheet, his hand wrapping around the front of my thigh. “Let’s take these off.”
I widened my legs a little, my breath catching as he peeled the stocking down my leg. When the first one was off, his fingers traced over the tiny divots the elastic had made on my skin.
“Itchy?” he asked softly.
“Not really.”
“My socks leave marks on my ankles sometimes,” he murmured, smiling almost boyishly as he reached for the top of my other thigh. “I end up scratchin’ like a maniac because they itch so bad.”
“They aren’t that tight,” I breathed as he gently pulled the other stocking down my leg.
“That’s good.” His eyes never left mine. “That feel better?”
“Yeah.”
“Bra too?”
I nodded.
Now that my panic had dulled again, the familiar sizzle of arousal was creeping back. It was a struggle to keep my eyes on Otto’s as his hand slid under the T-shirt and around to my back, unclipping my bra with a flick of his hand.
Sitting up a little, I pulled the bra straps out of the sleeves of the shirt and took it off with a sigh.
Otto took it out of my hand and threw it off the side of the bed.
“That’s new,” I scolded, leaning up to go get it.
“Leave it,” he ordered, reaching out to grip my hip. “We’ll grab it later.”
I huffed but laid back down.
“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he murmured, his thumb sliding softly along the leg band of my underwear.
“What about you?” I asked, pulling the clip out of the side of my hair. “Any regrets?”
“Right at this moment?” His lips curved up at the corners. “Not one.”
Feeling brave, I leaned forward and brushed my lips across his.
I was grateful that he’d noticed that my head wasn’t in it and had casually tucked me into bed like we were going to sleep, but I’d been taught to start a marriage like you meant to go on, and I wasn’t sure spending the night of our wedding sleeping was the right choice.
At least that was what I told myself as I slid my hand over his chest, marveling at the hard muscle and the light dusting of hair.
The idea that I just wanted to explore his incredible body still felt so foreign that I wasn’t able to fully wrap my mind around it yet.
“Fuck,” Otto whispered under his breath, yanking me toward him.
We stayed on our sides as our hands roamed and the kiss went from soft and languid to hard and intense. I gasped as Otto yanked his lips away and tilted my head back with his hand, giving him access to my neck.
“You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he said against my throat, sucking and licking his way toward my collarbone.
I was burning up, every inch of my skin more sensitive than it had ever been in my life.
The memory of his hands on me in the back of his Mustang had seemed so incredible that I couldn’t believe that it could be better than that, but it was.
I didn’t know if it was the fact that I didn’t have to worry someone would see us, that we were married now, or that Otto was taking his time, but the sensations were so heightened that I couldn’t catch my breath.
When I reached for the T-shirt I was wearing—anxious for more skin, more feeling, more anything—Otto shook his head.
“Leave it on,” he ordered, shoving the T-shirt up to my neck, baring everything anyway. “I like you in my shirt.”
My back arched involuntarily as his lips wrapped around my nipple, the sensation shooting straight between my legs. As he knelt up, his body on full display, my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest.
I ran my hands over his shoulders and down his arms, my palms prickling as I reached for anything I could.
His heart was beating as hard as mine when I pressed my hand there and the muscles of his stomach contracted as I slid my hands south.
When I reached the waistband of his boxers I hesitated, but my new husband was having none of that.
With a growl in the back of his throat that made his mouth vibrate around my nipple, he reached down and pressed my hand against him.
He was firm and large, and his erection jerked under my hand.
I wrapped my fingers around him as he moved back and forth between my nipples, running his tongue lightly over them before sucking them into his mouth. I didn’t move my hand away as he leaned up and shoved his boxers down around his thighs.
“You shave?” I blurted incredulously, staring at the penis in my hand surrounded by very short hair.
Otto choked and looked down at himself.
“No, I just trim it,” he replied, the words coming out hoarse and strangled.
“Oh,” I said, tightening my hand. He made the choking sound again and reached for my underwear.
“Do you want me to shave?” I asked breathlessly as he tossed the underwear off the bed.
“If you want to,” he replied distractedly.
“Would you—” My hips jolted as his fingers slipped lightly between my legs. “Would you like it better?”
It was Otto’s turn to look at me incredulously. “Don’t think I could like your pussy any better than I do now.”
I let out a nervous laugh.
“You’re a nut,” he said, a smile playing around his lips.
“It was a fair question,” I gasped as the pressure of his fingers increased.
Otto just shook his head as he reached down to pull my hand away from his penis. Before I could ask why, he was scooting down the bed, shoving the bedding with him. Within seconds, he was lying between my thighs, his hands spreading my legs wide as he pressed his mouth against me.
I knew it happened. I wasn’t an idiot. I’d heard about it. I just hadn’t ever imagined that I’d be doing it.
Otto’s mouth on me was beyond anything I could have imagined.
I jerked, my thighs shaking as his tongue swept up, finding the little bundle of nerves.
Desperately, I reached for anything I could until one of my hands found his hair and the other gripped the sheet beneath me.
At first, I struggled between anxiety that his face was right there and how incredible it felt, but it didn’t take long before my hips were arching toward him, and I was fighting my way toward orgasm.
I climaxed with a scream, my entire body tightening before the waves rolled over me.
“That’s one,” Otto said, kissing my thigh as I stared blearily at the ceiling.
Oh my god. I couldn’t even look at him.
“Now I know you were lyin’ in the Mustang,” he teased as he crawled up my body. “You’re a screamer.”
“Oh my god,” I whispered.
“Call me Otto,” he joked.
I stared at him.
“Feel good?” he asked, leaning closer to kiss me.
“That’s a dumb question,” I muttered against his mouth, making him chuckle.
“It’s gonna feel better,” he promised, moving his hips between my legs.
“I doubt that.”
“Hold on tight, sugar,” he said with a smile, pulling one of my legs over his hip.
He was right. As he slid inside me, this time with nothing hindering his movements and my body soft and pliant, I gasped. It didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt. It felt incredible.
I didn’t come twice like he’d promised the day he asked me to marry him.
I came three times.
“Sleep, sugar,” he murmured sometime later, whipping the T-shirt off my head before pulling me against him.
His hand splayed over my bare back as I rested my head on his bicep.
I was a little jealous that within moments, his breathing changed as he slept, while I stared at the unlit candles on the dresser, sure I’d never be able to sleep next to him, especially not naked as the day I was born.
It made absolutely no sense that he’d taken the T-shirt off after we’d had sex.
I realized how wrong I was when I woke up in the middle of the night to Otto’s mouth at my nipple and his hand between my thighs. Sleeping naked was awesome.