26. I Want This
I WANT THIS
DEEPIKA
I pulled back just enough to look at Liam, my lungs burning and my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. My skin felt hyper-sensitive, every nerve ending screaming from the friction of his suit against my silk dress.
The vineyard stretched out around us in a sea of silver-drenched vines, the air heavy with the intoxicating scent of fermenting grapes, damp earth, and the crisp, expensive champagne still lingering on Liam’s breath.
“Right here?” I whispered, my voice trembling. The distant thrum of the wedding bass vibrated through the soles of my heels.
“Right here,” he said, his voice rough. His gray eyes were blown wide, almost black with a hunger that made my knees go weak. His hands seized my waist, the calloused palms of an athlete bunching up the champagne-colored silk of my skirt until I felt the cool night air hit my thighs.
“Liam, someone could see us if they take a wrong turn from the bar—”
“I don’t care,” he growled, his breath hot against my lips.
He moved with a sudden surge, pressing me back until the rough, unforgiving bark of an ancient oak tree bit into my shoulder blades.
And God help me, neither did I. Especially not when he was looking at me like I was the only prize he’d ever cared about winning.
Like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
His hands dived under my skirt, his fingers digging into the soft meat of my thighs with a possessive grip that I knew would leave marks.
He pulled me closer until my breasts were crushed against his dress shirt and his heavy, rock-hard cock was a blunt instrument between our laps.
His bow tie hung loose around his neck, his shirt slightly undone, his blond hair tousled from my fingers.
We were a mess, but I didn’t care about that either.
“Tell me to stop, Deepika,” he whispered, his voice a smoky command.
I kissed him instead, my tongue tangling with his in a desperate, wet slide.
My hands fumbled with the cold metal of his belt buckle, my nails scraping against the leather.
Watching him charm my family earlier had been one thing, but seeing him this unhinged and needy was a different kind of torture.
It was intoxicating.
We were definitely going to get caught. But the risk sent a fresh wave of slick heat between my legs. Liam let out a low groan as he hooked his arms under my knees and hoisted me up. I wrapped my legs around his thick waist, my pussy rubbing directly against the bulge in his slacks.
“We’re at a wedding,” I gasped against the pulse point of his neck, my teeth sinking into his skin.
“I know,” he said, his breath hot as his mouth found my earlobe, nipping it until I saw stars. I felt his hand reach between us, unzipping his fly with a sharp, metallic hiss.
“Y-your best friend’s w-wedding. Ethan will kill you—ah!” I cried out as he freed himself, the thick, hot head of his cock smearing across my entrance.
“I’m aware.”
“This is so inappropriate—”
He kissed me again, swallowing my protests. I moaned into his mouth, my hands clenching in his hair.
Fuck appropriate.
I needed him. Now. Here, under the shadows of the vines, with music drifting like a dream through the vineyard and the taste of sweat and champagne on his tongue.
I needed him more than I needed my next breath.
Liam pressed into me, the rough wood digging into my back through the thin fabric. His hands were everywhere. One gripping my ass, the other sliding between our bodies to guide himself. My hair had come undone from its careful updo, strands sticking to my damp skin.
“Tell me you want this,” he breathed, pulling back just an inch, his eyes searching mine with a terrifying intensity.
“I want this,” I said, my voice coming out desperate, my body trembling with need. “I want everything, Liam. I want… you.”
He didn’t hesitate and guided the broad head of his cock to my opening and pushed.
I was so wet I practically swallowed him whole.
He slid inside in one deep, agonizingly perfect thrust that bottomed out and made my vision blur.
I clamped my legs tighter around his back, my internal muscles pulsing around him.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his forehead dropping to mine as he sucked in a ragged breath. His body was trembling with the effort of not losing it. And then, so softly I almost didn’t hear it over the rustle of the leaves, “I love you.”
I froze.
He froze.
The words felt heavier than the humid night air, hanging between us.
My lips parted, my heart pounding against his chest so hard I thought it might bruise. He started to pull away as if he wanted to bolt, his jaw tightening as he realized what he’d let slip.
But I grabbed the lapels of his shirt, my knuckles white as I anchored him to me. “What?” I demanded, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Liam didn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the bark of the tree beside my head. I could feel his heartbeat hammering a frantic, Olympic-sprint pace under my palm.
I swallowed and took a deep breath, the scent of him filling my lungs. “I think I love you too, you giant fish-idiot.”
Silence thickened in the air around us, so heavy it felt like it might crush me. I thought I might break out in hives, my skin prickling with the weight of it.
After a heartbeat, he scoffed, “You think?”
I scowled, pushing feebly at his chest. “I don’t know, okay?” My voice was defensive, but my hands still clung to him.
He grabbed my face in both hands, his palms hot and slightly damp, forcing me to look at him. “Neither do I,” he said, his voice rough and bordering on angry, though his touch was a caress.
In the evening’s darkness, his eyes looked like the sky before a storm, gray and wondrous and terrifying.
“But I want you,” he continued, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. “I want this. Whatever the fuck this is. I want to argue with you for the next fifty years.”
“Me too.” I nodded, a stray tear escaping. “I... I want this. Whatever it is.”
He kissed me softly, a slow, lingering press of lips that felt more intimate than the sex. “I don’t want to pretend anymore, Sharma.”
I smiled against his lips. “Neither do I, Fish Boy.”
He laughed, a low, warm sound that vibrated through my entire core. And then he was kissing me again, his hands moving with purpose as he hiked my dress all the way to my waist.
“Someone’s going to see,” I gasped, feeling the thick, hard length of him begin to slide out and then slam back in.
“Let them watch.”
He started to move in earnest with hard, rhythmic thrusts that made the tree creak behind me.
I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming his name as he hit my G-spot with every shove.
The friction was a white-hot burn, the sensation of his skin slapping against mine sounding like thunder in the quiet vineyard.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his teeth grazing my shoulder. “You feel so fucking perfect.”
“Move,” I demanded, my nails digging into the muscles of his arms.
He did. He angled his hips, catching my sweet spot with a precision that made my toes curl. Each thrust sent pleasure sparking through my body. The world narrowed to the rough bark, the distant bass, and the way he filled me.
“You’re insufferable,” I gasped, my head lolling back.
“You’re impossible,” he shot back, his pace becoming frantic.
“Fuck, yes… right there—”
“Still bossy even when you’re coming,” he gasped.
“Shut up and fuck me properly!”
I felt his wicked grin against my neck. “Yes, ma’am.”
He doubled his efforts, his thrusts becoming short and shallow, focusing entirely on the entrance where my clit was being crushed between us.
We were slick with sweat, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. I could feel the orgasm building, a tightening coil in my lower belly that was about to snap.
“Deepika, I’m gonna—”
“I-I know,” I gasped, my walls clamping down on him in frantic pulses. “Me too!”
He kissed me hard, tongue deep, as we came together. He swallowed my high-pitched moan as his body shuddered violently against mine, his release hitting me in hot, thick pulses. I felt the orgasm everywhere. The release, the relief, and the terrifying realization that this wasn’t just sex anymore.
This was everything.
We stayed like that for a long moment, the only sound our ragged breathing. He stayed buried inside me, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us starting to giggle into each other’s necks like teenagers who had just gotten away with doing something sneaky.
“We just had sex at a wedding,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of shock and giddiness.
“My best friend’s wedding,” he whispered back, pecking my nose, his lips curving into that familiar, arrogant smirk.
“We’re terrible people.”
“The worst.”
I kissed him again, feeling his smile against my mouth. He helped me down carefully, my legs feeling like overcooked noodles. He fixed my dress, smoothing the silk over my hips and adjusting my straps with surprisingly gentle hands.
“Oopsie,” he said, his voice teasing.
I frowned. “What?”
He pointed at his own neck, right where the collar meets the jaw.
I fumbled for my phone to use the screen as a mirror and gasped. A huge hickey bloomed on the side of my neck, dark purple and vivid. A neon sign that said ‘Liam James was here.’
I smacked his arm. “You’re an animal!”
He pouted, rubbing the spot. “Not my fault you smell like sin and taste like heaven.”
“An animal,” I repeated, trying and failing to look annoyed.
He shrugged off his expensive suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. The silk lining was still warm from his body, the scent of his cologne enveloping me. “Better?”
“Barely.”
We walked back toward the reception, the grass crunching under our feet. His hand was firm and warm in mine, and I was about to say something serious when voices drifted from the shadows of the villa.
It sounded like a heated, hushed battle.
We both stopped dead.
“I can’t keep doing this, Yash!”
Diya?
“Doing what? I’m not—”
“You barely look at me anymore!”
Yash’s response was muffled and angry.
Liam gave me a look.
I sighed. “Fine. I’ll go talk to her.”
He kissed my forehead. “Attagirl.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, and I tried not to blush.
He grinned, squeezing my hand once before letting go.
I walked toward the villa alone, heart pounding, his jacket still warm around my shoulders, the words ‘I love you’ echoing in my head.
This was going to change everything.