Chapter 8
FRANKIE
I’m obsessed with the ring on my husband’s finger. It’s so…solid. Very…real.
The city flashes by in a blur of neon.
We don’t talk, but we don’t stop touching each other. It’s like the limo is a cocoon. We stumbled into it as two strangers who just met and fell in love and got married all in one night, and we’ll emerge from it at his hotel a married couple, Mr. and Mrs. …
“What’s your last name again?” I ask.
He laughs and mumbles something.
“What?”
“Granger,” he says, drawing it out.
I giggle. “Mr. and Mrs. Logan and Frankie Granger.”
“Frankie?” He grins. “That’s fucking cute.”
“I’m only Frankie to family. And now we’re family.”
“Fuck yeah we are.” He pulls me close, and then the city isn’t just flashing by, but spinning. “If we see anyone I know, I’m going to be rude to them and tell them to fuck off. I’ll introduce you in the morning. I just want to be alone with my wife.”
“I like the way it sounds when you say that.”
“My. Wife. My wife Frankie. Love learning new things about my adorable wife.”
At his hotel, he very carefully plants his feet on the concrete and straightens up to his considerable height before offering me his hand. “Come with me, Mrs. Granger.”
I barely notice the doorman, and the lobby flashes by in the blink of an eye.
The elevator is shockingly quiet.
Logan grins.
I laugh. “Is this real life?”
He sways as he crosses the elevator car, getting bigger and bigger until he’s right in front of me. But his eyes are so steady. So warm.
I grab his shirt and hold on tight. “This is a dream.”
“Very real.”
“Is it?”
“I promise.”
“Did we lose count of the kisses?”
“I think we’re getting close to thirty.”
I push up on my toes, and his mouth sinks down on mine. Soft lips, warm tongue.
His hands in my hair, one of his thighs sliding between mine.
My skirt rides up, and I whimper at the risk of being revealed, caught like this, shamelessly riding my husband’s thigh. His mouth is so sure and strong it quickly chases away that edge of concern about exposure, replacing it with a liquid, pulsing desire for more.
“I married a good kisser,” I mumble when the elevator dings on his floor.
He adjusts my skirt before the doors slide open. “Small world, so did I.”
We both laugh, and laugh, and suddenly we’re in front of his hotel room door. The hallway is empty and quiet. No cursing anyone out.
Key card.
Lock.
Woosh.
His hand engulfs mine as he guides me to his room, then we’re inside and we’re kissing again.
Click.
“This is a nice room.” I think, anyway. It’s spinning.
Logan moves me toward his bed and helps me sit down, then kneels down in front of me, and the look on his face makes my breath catch. I sway toward him, catching his face in my hands.
“Hi.” I giggle.
He grins. “Lean back.”
“You’re very handsome.”
“I think the champagne has finally caught up to you. I’m going to tuck you into bed and be a gentleman.”
“Noooooo...” I make a face. “Nobody wants you to be a gentleman on your wedding night.”
“Nobody?”
“Me.” I point aggressively at my chest. “I don’t want you to be a gentleman.”
“One thing at a time, my lovely bride.” His fingers circle my ankle, his thumb a hot brand on the inside of my leg as he lifts my foot. “This strap has been distracting me all evening.”
He slides it out of the buckle, then sets my shoe aside and squeezes my foot in his hand before repeating the erotic unbuckling on the other foot.
I giggle again. Erotic unbuckling.
He lifts my second foot and kisses the outside of my ankle, where my first tattoo is, the first indelible evidence of recklessness. “Ah, I wondered what this was. Is that a dove?”
“Mmm. For peace. And to piss off my father.”
“I’m sure it worked exactly as intended.” He laughs and kisses me again, moving his mouth around to the inside of my calf.
“Your lips feel so nice,” I murmur.
He kisses up to my knee. “Fuck, I really should be good and tuck you in.”
“No thank you. Keep kissing.”
“I want to. Because you’re mine now,” he says, his hands on my thighs. “Mine because I put a ring on your finger. Mine because I was in the right place at the right time.”
I thread my fingers through his hair, and he leans into my touch.
Pulse pounding, I guide his head higher up my thigh.
He exhales against my inner thigh, hot and eager. “You like my kisses?”
“Love them.” I close my eyes because the room is spinning, and that’s better.
“I took a chance tonight,” he continues.
“On what’s always felt like a cursed night.
But you’re turning my luck around.” His grip tightens on my hips for a second before his fingers curl into the waistband of my panties and tug them down.
“Will you be a good girl for me, Frankie, and let me have another kiss right here?”
I lift up, helping me bare my lower half to him. Eyes still closed, surfing on a sea of anticipation.
“I can’t believe how lucky I am. I know I’ve only known you for a few hours. I know that sounds insane. But I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, and I have this soul-deep certainty that I’m going to love you for the rest of my life. That you’re going to be the best part of my life.”
My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
“Everything up until now,” he whispers against my thigh again, this time higher than before, and there’s nothing between him and my bare sex. “That was just laying the groundwork for me to meet you tonight and get to be your husband.”
My husband.
“I’m just…” He exhales heavily, right against my pussy lips.
“This is my final birthday kiss, okay? We don’t need to do more than this, but I want to kiss you…
right…here…” His lips brush the area just above my clit, and I jump.
“Fuck yeah, you like that?” He presses his mouth to me again, more firmly, and then his tongue pulls up along my slit.
He hums happily and hunkers down, his shoulders pressing my thighs further apart. “Gonna kiss my wife. Happy birthday to me.”
“Happy birthday,” I whisper.
He licks me again, holding me open this time, and he groans in a way that I feel, in a way that says he likes the taste of me and that makes me clench hard around nothing.
A desperate ache blooms low in my belly as he laps at me, licks turning to sucks, everywhere except my clit, until I’m squirming, and then only on my clit until I’m moaning.
“Need to feel you come for me.” He lifts his head and gives me a hot, hooded look. “Can you, Frankie?”
I nod, words escaping me.
He lifts my hips and latches on firmly, pulling on my clit in time with the pulsing of my body.
Maybe he can hear my heart beat racing, because he picks up speed, going faster and faster, and my head is still spinning, but I clutch at the blanket, grounding myself, trying to hold on, to keep from taking flight because I don’t ever want this to stop.
My thighs are trembling, and it feels so good, so incredibly good. I never want him to stop kissing me between the legs.
“Happy birthday,” I whisper. “Happy birthday, happy birthday.”
I don’t know why he wants this to be the peak moment of his birthday, because it’s really a gift for me. So incredible.
His mouth between my thighs, his head between my thighs.
When he lifts his gaze again, this time without letting go of my clit, the entire world narrows to this moment.
I stare at him in wonder, our eyes locked, as my clit throbs against his tongue, and I see in his eyes that he can feel it.
He can feel the climax rippling through me, my whole body spasming.
I’m gasping and laughing and clutching at his head, holding him there, holding on for dear life, as he pulses his tongue against the underside of my clit, swallowing my pleasure, keeping his mouth right where I want it, until I collapse back against the pillows.
Pulse pounding.
Heart racing.
Muscles absolutely liquid.
“Where in California do you live?” he asks into my thigh, his voice a soft purr against my skin. “I need to… I’m going to be there next… Are you near San Jose or Los Angeles?”
“I’m in LA.”
“I’m going to be there in two days.” He smiles, breathing hard himself, his warm exhale making my sensitive flesh quiver all over again.
“Yay.”
“How many orgasms do you need to hold you until I get my mouth on you again in LA?”
“I don’t know.” That one was so good it might be enough, but if more are on offer… “I really don’t know.”
“I’m so hungry for you. I just want to see you come over and over again. Can you do that for me? Of course you can.”
I laugh weakly. “Can I?”
“Mmm, yes you can. You’re such a good girl, the best girl. So agreeable.”
“Nobody else ever says that about me.”
“They don’t know you like I’m going to know you. Nobody is ever going to know you the way that I want to know you.” He rests his cheek against the inside of my thigh. “God, you’re so hot and slick now. That’s so fucking sexy.”
And I ache, too. Aching, hot, slick…it would be a shame to waste that.
“Logan, I want more…” I tug at him, pulling him up my body, my legs moving restlessly. More than just kisses, more than a one way lusty blast of pleasure. I want to consummate the vows we just exchanged.
“Okay but we need to talk about protection,” he slurs.
Drunk, but not stupid. That’s my husband. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yeah. Say it again, it’s hot. Consummate.”
I giggle.
He drifts away. “I have condoms, don’t worry.”
I frown. “Why?”
He re-appears above me. “When I was fifteen and travelling for the first time by myself, my dad shoved a box of condoms in my bag and told me never to be without them. Just in case. I’ve followed that advice ever since.”
“I don’t like the idea of you using them with anyone else.”
“Never again. I promise.” He lets a couple of condoms flutter to the bed beside me, then shows me what else he has in his hand.
The vibrator.
“A rose for my gorgeous wife.”