Chapter Forty Sunny
Chapter Forty
Sunny
Despite my bravado, nerves knot my stomach when Ethan eases my legs down to the floor. Thank gods there’s a wall behind me, because I’m not quite steady on my feet. But some of my timidity melts away when Ethan extends a shaking hand toward me.
He’s nervous too.
Ethan catches the spaghetti strap of my nightgown with one finger and tugs it past my shoulder. I exhale a shaky breath, and his eyes jump to meet mine. His pupils are blown wide with good old-fashioned lust, but he still searches my face to make sure I’m okay.
“Go on,” I murmur, stepping away from the wall.
His intent gaze returns to the task at hand, and he slides down the other strap. Impatience seeps into his movement as he grips the front of my bodice and pulls it down, the satin slipping to my waist without resistance.
A choked gurgle sounds in his throat, and I worry that he might have swallowed his tongue. That would be a shame. I have plans for that talented tongue of his. His blatant desire infuses confidence into my veins, and I lift my breasts with my hands, offering them to him.
“Do they meet your approval?” I tease in a husky whisper. He practically slaps my hands away and continues to stare open mouthed at my lace-covered boobs. “Ethan?”
“I like.” He nods jerkily.
“Oh my gods.” Laughter bubbles out of me. “I didn’t mean to break you.”
“Break good,” he slurs. “Look more.”
He hooks his thumbs into the nightgown bunched at my waist and pushes it down, but the fabric has no stretch and gets stuck at my hips—just low enough for the lacy top of my garter belt to peep through.
He tugs on it a bit harder, dragging the gown down an inch lower. With a desperate growl, he bunches the luxurious fabric between his hands and tears the gown straight down the middle. We both gasp at the same time.
“My La Perla,” I cry.
“Fuck me.” He gawks at my garter belt and thigh-highs, gripping the halves of my poor, ruined nightgown in each of his fists. “What the hell are you wearing?”
I can’t stay upset with him when he looks at me like that—with feral hunger and a tinge of fear, as though I’m a mirage that could disappear any moment.
“What? This old thing?” I slide my hands down my waist and over my hips, the lace of the garter belt tickling my palms.
“Take it off.” His voice turns dark and silky, and a shiver runs down my spine. “Take it all off.”
I clench my thighs at his rough command. I want to obey him . . . please him. With trembling hands, I unclasp my bra after two tries and shrug out of it. Then I dangle the lacy garment on my index finger before dropping it lightly on the floor.
A breath hisses through his teeth, but he doesn’t touch me. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest.
“Slower,” he says, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
Bending at the waist, I trail my hands down one thigh and slowly free one dainty clip from my stocking. Spurred on by an unfamiliar instinct, I arch my back and raise my ass in the air as I free another one.
When I reach the last clip, I look at him from beneath my lashes before I unlatch it from my thigh-high. And holding his wild gaze, I roll the stocking down my leg, inch by agonizing inch, and step out of it.
“Shall I go on?” I sound like a siren, my voice husky and inviting.
Ethan gulps, then nods. I repeat with my other leg and stocking. Gods, this is so hot. Impatient for his touch, I straighten my back and reach for the clasp behind my garter belt.
“No.” He finds his voice. “Leave that on.”
“Okay.” I drop my hands and stand before him in nothing but my lacy thong and garter belt.
For a moment, he clenches and unclenches his hands at his sides, like he’s fighting an inner battle, and makes no move toward me. Then with careful, measured steps, he closes the distance between us until I can feel the heat coming off his towering frame.
He gently folds me into his arms and just holds me. A nice, innocent hug. I would think he wasn’t affected by my striptease, if it weren’t for the frantic beating of his heart and the press of his hard length against my stomach.
I melt against him and wait patiently. Well, not quite patiently.
Our friends bought us time, but the world is about to end.
We might actually not have time. I expect a knock at the door any minute now.
But I need us to consummate this marriage.
I want it fucking official that we are husband and wife.
I want there to be no doubt that this male is mine.
“I’m going to make you feel good.” His lips brush against the shell of my ear, and a trill runs down my spine. “Then I’m going to take you hard until you come around my cock, screaming my name.”
“S-sounds like a plan,” I stutter, aching with need, and gasp when Ethan lifts me into his arms.
He carries me to the sleeping mat and lowers me to the comforter.
The cool silk feels decadent against my bare back, my senses heightened by my arousal, and the scent of roses fills my nostrils as they crush beneath me.
I reach for him, greedy to touch him. But he evades my hand with a dark chuckle, grabbing me by the ankles instead.
“My turn first.” He spreads my legs apart and settles his head between them. Before I can draw breath to argue, his hot mouth is on me, my thong pulled roughly to one side.
What was I going to argue about?
My body writhes as my orgasm builds low in my stomach. His wicked words had already gotten me halfway there, and it only takes a lick and a suckle for me to start falling apart. He lifts his head, his lips glistening with my desire, and he has the audacity to smirk at me.
“What? Don’t stop.” Pride? What pride? “Ethan, please.”
He obliges with relish, only to pull back again when I’m at the precipice of release.
“What the fuck, Ethan?” I whimper, clutching the silk comforter in my fists. “You’re asking for an ass kick—”
Oh gods.
His mouth finds me again, and I come undone.
My hips arch off the mat, a silent scream hissing past my throat.
As the aftershock of my climax rolls through me, Ethan plunges a long finger inside me, sliding in and out in an even tempo.
I clench around him again and again in a slow descent.
But before I can catch my breath, he adds another finger in me and sucks my clit into the warmth of his mouth.
“Ethan,” I scream, the second orgasm plowing into me so hard that I see stars behind my eyes.
This time he eases me down, his thumbs drawing soothing circles on the inside of my thighs, and his smile is tender as he looks up at me.
I lie limp on the bedding, my chest rising and falling like I’ve run a marathon.
I release my punishing grip on his hair and haphazardly drop my arms by my head, like a wonky goal post.
Ethan lies on his side next to me and brushes my hair away from my face. “I should let you rest.”
“Only if you have a death wish.” I scowl at him despite my euphoric state. This might be our last time. “Stick to the plan, Lee. I don’t need you taking it easy on me.”
He chuckles and drops a kiss on my forehead. With a ferocious growl, I clamp my hand behind his neck and push off the sleeping mat to crush my lips against his. He smells like the earth and the wind, and I forget my ire and lose myself in the kiss.
I might mewl like a fucking kitten. Ethan either doesn’t hear me or he chooses to ignore it. Wise choice. Besides, he’s too busy devouring my mouth to care about anything else at the moment.
I put my hands on his chest but pout when I feel silk, not skin, beneath my palms. “Why are you still dressed?”
“Patience, wife,” he murmurs against my lips, and I shiver beneath him. I will never tire of him calling me his wife.
“Fuck patience.” I bite down on his lower lip, then lick it better. “Strip, husband.”
“Bossy.” Ethan leans back, his half-hooded eyes crinkling with amusement.
But he rises to a seat and shrugs his robe off, the muscles on his chest and shoulders working.
I watch with blatant lust, my mouth watering.
When he throws the robe halfway across the room and sits naked before me like a feast, I sit up and push him down onto the mat.
I run my hands over the breadth of his chest and let my fingers bob over the contours of his abs.
“Beautiful,” I whisper. Walking on my knees, I step between his legs. “And you’re all mine.”
I never dared dream of us getting married. It seemed too perfect, too impossible. But it happened. Now, I intend to claim him as my husband in every sense of the word.
“Sunny . . .”
“Shh. Let me look at you.” I cock my head to the side and trace a finger down a purple vein on his jutting erection. “On second thought, I want you in my mouth.”
“You don’t have to—” he rasps.
Gripping his cock at the base, I wrap my mouth around him. Gods, the head is so soft. I drag my lips back and forth across the tip, and his legs jerk at my sides. I frown at the interruption and continue with my exploration.
I take him deep into my mouth, and his back arches off the mat. I instinctively rise and fall over him, letting my lips and tongue do what feels good to me. A mix of praise and profanity tumbles from his mouth. It must feel good for him too.
Then I become fixated with that silky head again. I suckle it and pop my lips over it like a sweet lollipop, then swirl my tongue on it. With a low growl, Ethan catapults upright and hauls me onto him, straddling my legs over his lap.
“Enough.” He crushes his mouth against mine.
I hear the sound of my thong ripping off, but I’m too busy kissing him back to lament the loss.
Then, gripping me by the hips, he lifts me up and brings me down on his hard length, pivoting his hips to bury himself inside me.
I take him with ease, soft and wet from my orgasms and my playtime with his cock.
“Fuck me.” He groans long and deep.
“I already am.” I laugh, giddy with happiness. I love how well we fit together, how he stretches and fills me.
But after a heartbeat, I crave friction, and I ride him like a cowgirl subduing a bucking bull.
I dig one hand into his slick shoulder and rake the other through my hair, down my neck, and over my aching breast. Ethan urges me to take him faster with his hands and hips until I whimper with pleasure bordering on pain.
“That’s it.” He drags his mouth over my jaw and suckles my sensitive earlobe. I pivot my hips, trying to relieve the pressure building in my clit. Knowing exactly what I need, he pushes the pad of his thumb against my throbbing nub and draws rough circles over it. “I got you, Sunny.”
With a staccato of high-pitched screams, I clench around him as wave after wave of my orgasm crashes through me.
When I finally float back down, I sag limply against him, my head flopping onto his shoulder.
But he doesn’t let me rest. He rises to his knees and spins me around so I’m standing on my knees as well.
“I need you to come for me again.” He pants roughly in my ear.
“I can’t.” I’d slide down to the mat if he wasn’t holding me up with a hard arm around my midriff.
“You can.” He nudges my legs wider with his knee. “Come for me, Sunny.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
Ethan drives into me again. The change in position somehow lets me take him in deeper, and I feel another orgasm fluttering at the base of my spine and down to my core. His free hand comes to cup my breast, squeezing and kneading it, as he pistons in and out of me, setting an unrelenting pace.
“Harder,” I moan. “Ethan, harder.”
“Fuck,” he growls and pushes me down until I’m on my hands and knees. His fingers dig into my waist. “Hang on.”
“Yes.” I arch my back and take him greedily. He pounds into me even faster and harder, and the room echoes with the sound of our skin slapping against each other. “Yes.”
A part of me never wants our primal coupling to end, but the greedy part of me chases after another orgasm. Then, suddenly, I’m lying on my back. His hips still pumping, he wraps my legs around his waist and plants his hands on either side of my head, arms locked straight.
“Look at me,” he says, both a command and a plea.
“Ethan.” I meet his eyes and see silver-and-green fire flickering in them.
“You’re mine.” His dark voice rumbles in his chest, his hips jerking erratically. “Mine.”
“As you are mine.” White light flares in my chest, and I know my eyes are on fire. “I love you, Ethan.”
“I love you.” He kisses me with aching tenderness even as he continues taking me with wild hunger. “So much.”
We climax together with twin cries of fulfillment, each of our gazes never leaving the other’s. The threads of fate tighten around my heart, and I know I will never be untethered again. Even in death.