47. Jude #2
“Open it.” Slade smiles as we stop at the door.
I slide the key Nandi gave me into the new lock and push the door open. Slade grabs me, hoisting me up into his arms, bridal style, making me shriek out a surprised giggle.
The second he steps inside, I go silent.
Hurricane vases with more fairy lights illuminate the interior. The whole space has been transformed. It’s been turned into a suite. There’s a large bed in the center of the room, with white curtains draped above it like sails. An open-top bath in the luxurious bathroom peeks through a doorway.
Every available surface has been covered in vases of flowers amongst the lights. In a bucket on a coffee table, there’s a bottle of champagne.
“Slade,” I whisper.
“The hotel turned it into a honeymoon suite for people who wanted privacy away from the main hotel. It hasn’t officially opened yet. Nandi borrowed the key for us.”
I gaze at him, tracing his strong jawline with the tip of my finger. “It’s beautiful.”
“I like the idea of people being in here… starting something new together.”
“So do I.” I press a kiss to his jaw. “And this is where I saw the real you the first time. Even if it was because you got dust in your eye.”
“I know.”
He looks at me and the warm glow from the fairy lights reflects in his achingly beautiful eyes.
“Always blue now,” he murmurs.
I run the backs of my fingers down his temple, admiring them. “I told you; I like the blue best.”
He lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me slowly. A billion reasons for why I love him all rush me at once, but all I manage in response is a breathy whimper.
He carries me over to the bed and lies me down, climbing on beside me.
“Come here, Wife.”
He slides his rough palms up my thighs, pushing the pearlescent silk fabric of my wedding gown up to my waist. It’s sleek and simple, a completely different dress to the giant one I had before that I didn’t feel like myself in.
“My wife is the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen,” Slade says, squeezing my hips, his eyes roaming over my body.
I bite my lower lip at the raw hunger darkening his gaze as he discovers the oyster-colored silk panties I’m wearing.
He presses a fingertip to them, directly above my clit, and I arch my spine, tipping my head back as he drags his finger down. The fabric is already damp, and I can feel myself soaking through it even more as he sucks in a breath.
“Fuck, Baby. You’re so wet already.”
He maneuvers me over him so we’re both sitting with me straddling his hips. Then he slips two fingers beneath the silk and brings me down onto them. I moan as he guides me up and down, fucking me with his fingers in slow, delicious strokes.
“Like the first time,” he breathes, looking at me through lust-filled, hooded lids. “Except this time you know who’s about to fuck you so deep you’ll think you can’t possibly take any more.”
I whimper at his words and grip onto his shoulders, memories of that first night buzzing through my veins and making my blood heat. “Please…”
“Mm, Baby, I love it when you beg.”
He takes his fingers from inside me and I sag into him at the loss. He pushes my lose hair back from my shoulder and trails his lips up and down my neck until I’m shuddering with the need to feel him inside me again.
“Slade…”
“You want to remember that first night, Baby? When we were just like this?” He pulls my hips down, bringing me onto the crotch of his tuxedo pants. His cock is hard and thick, and I moan as it presses against me. “Except, it was like this, wasn’t it?”
He grabs a remote control from the nightstand and in an instant the room goes pitch black as every fairy light turns off.
“Slade?”
His warm breath fans over my mouth as he fists my hair and pulls me to him. His kiss is fierce, bruising, possessive. Everything I need to have me shamelessly grinding down onto him and whimpering against his tongue.
“Told you you kissed me first,” I pant when he pulls back to let me breathe.
He chuckles, the sound even richer in the dark.
My heart flutters, and I lean forward, trying to kiss him again. But he flips me onto my back, coming down on top of me instead.
“And I know I was the first man to ever give your sweet body the attention it deserves.”
My cheeks heat as he slides down my body, his hands gripping my hips as he buries his face between my legs and presses open-mouth kisses all over the soaked silk.
His tongue drags over it, pulling it against my clit and creating the perfect amount of friction that has me corkscrewing my hands into his hair and tugging the roots.
“God, yes! That’s so good.”
He’s not even touching me skin on skin, he’s eating me out through my panties as if he wants to prove to me that even with a barrier between us, he can still make me unravel at his whim.
“Slade,” I pant, an orgasm pushing closer.
“So eager to come for me,” he growls, taking his mouth off me.
“Don’t stop,” I whine as he moves back and I’m left in the dark, missing his touch.
“Still just as much fucking trouble as I knew you’d be,” he muses, planting strong hands at the edges of my panties, then painstakingly slowly inching them down my legs.
I want to shout at him to hurry the hell up or shove him out of the way and tear them off myself, but I know he’ll only make me wait longer if I do. Instead, I bundle up all of my willpower and stay still and breathe through it as he carefully removes them.
“Good girl, I know that was hard for you,” he says, a smile in his voice.
I huff, tempted to grab his beautiful face and stuff it back between my legs where he knows I want it.
A soft kiss lands on my inner thigh and makes me arch up, chasing his mouth. He moves to the other side, and I’m left wilting, eager for his touch, but also vibrating with the need to feel him where I really need him.
“Please,” I mewl. “Please. You know I need you.”
“And I’ll never stop needing you.” He kisses closer to my clit, but still doesn’t make contact. “I love you, Jude,” he whispers. “I love you so goddamn much.”
“I love you too—”
I cry out as he seals his mouth over my clit and sucks. My orgasm comes hurtling toward the surface.
“Slade,” I pant, clawing at his hair and grinding against his face.
His groan wrings more arousal from me; the wet sounds as he laps it up have me biting my lip, desperate to come on his tongue.
“Slade,” I pant.
He stops again.
“No!” I cry.
My breath echoes in my ears as I flop on the bed, panting with frustration.
The mattress dips as he moves.
Then a single flame flickers to life, bathing his face in light.
“I’d like to see you this time,” he says, tossing the matchbox and reaching to run his thumb over my lips. “I want to see my wife’s face as I make her mine.”
He leans to one side, lighting a single pillar candle on the nightstand, then shakes the match out. He stares at the burning flame, his throat constricting with a thick swallow.
“I died from a flame. It feels right that my second chance is born alongside one.”
“Slade,” I whisper.
He looks at me, and I stroke his cheek. He turns, kissing my palm, the fleeting anguish in his eyes dissolving.
“Where was I?” He grins wickedly, then sinks his head back between my thighs.
His eyes hold mine with an intensity I couldn’t break even if I wanted to. But I don’t. I want him to see exactly what he does to me. How much I need him and want him.
How much I love him.
“Oh, fuck, Slade!” I cry, coming on his face.
“Yes, come on. That’s it, give it to me,” he groans, sucking and licking me through it.
His eyes lock on mine as I tremble, and he manages to drag another orgasm out of me.
“Slade,” I whimper as he kisses me all over, then swipes his fingers over his chin, gathering up wetness.