33. Jane
CHAPTER 33
JANE
“Put me on the bed,” I say breathlessly as Adrian carries me into the obscenely luxurious honeymoon suite. “I don’t trust myself to stand.”
Yep. My knees are wobbly, and not just because of the buzz from the champagne. I’m overdosing on dopamine and oxytocin, and it’s all Adrian’s fault. It was bad enough when he’d touch me, or dance with me, or smile at me, but being carried like this, pressed against his rock-hard chest and enveloped in his strong arms while breathing in his deliciously masculine scent, makes me swoony in a very real way.
The bed must be of the Alaskan King variety—a nine-foot square that could comfortably accommodate a dozen of the tallest NBA players… even if they were to have an orgy with their tallest counterparts from the WNBA.
Very gently, Adrian sets me down at the edge of the bed, right onto a thousand roses’ worth of petals.
Yes, petals—and they’re not the only honeymoon accoutrements scattered around the room. There are enough candles to create a major fire hazard, enough chocolates to give even the healthiest person diabetes, and enough heart-shaped balloons to lift an obese elephant.
It’s all uber romantic and beyond my wildest GD wet dreams.
To put it another way, it’s the universe taunting me with the fact that I’ll stay a virgin tonight.
Gulping in a breath, I detect the smell of incense—and that combines with the aroma of the flowers to spin my head even faster.
Adrian starts to straighten, but our eyes lock.
Uh-oh.
Must look away.
Can’t.
By Jove, I seriously can’t tear my eyes away from him.
My infatuation must be obvious, but he’s not looking away either. In fact, his gaze is rapt, and a muscle in his jaw twitches—begging me to lick it. And then nibble on that sharp cheekbone before I?—
Mrs. Westfield firmly believes that one ought not to take certain liberties, even with one’s husband.
Overcome by an irresistible impulse, I clutch his tie like a chlamydia-free koala grabbing a hold of a eucalyptus tree. My brain gives my arm a brazen command to pull Adrian down, but before the arm can execute said command, Adrian makes his move—probably because otherwise, he’d lose his license as a rake.
His mouth swoops in like a bird of prey, and his hands land near the bodice of my dress.
Yes!
All thoughts flee my head, and I lose myself in the kiss, aware only of the sweetness of the wedding cake on his breath and something very masculine that is purely Adrian.
The sound of silk and lace ripping thunders through the room.
He ripped my bodice!
Like in the best romance novels.
Holy smokes. Could it be? Am I finally going to get my GD?
It sure seems like it.
Adrian deepens the kiss, his tongue penetrating my mouth, giving me a prelude of the marital act as his hands slide down to my destroyed bodice, freeing my breasts and making my nipples tingle at the rush of cool air.
Please, for the love of all that is sacred about the institution of marriage, let him continue. If he stops, I shall go mad.
He doesn’t stop. He kisses my neck, then slides down, capturing my hard-as-a-diamond nipple in his luxurious mouth.
A moan escapes my lips.
Growling low in his throat, Adrian yanks the ruined dress from my body in several impatient tugs before lifting his head to stare down at me.
I gulp, feeling deliciously exposed under his ravenous gaze. The fact that he’s completely dressed only intensifies the sensation. My skin turns hot as a blush covers my entire body.
“You’re gorgeous,” Adrian whispers hoarsely—or I think he does because he then drags his tongue down my belly, jumbling the last remnants of my brain.
Dazedly, I wonder where that tongue is headed. And then I know. It’s what my books would call “my most secret place.”
Is he about to?—
He is. Giving my clit the most sensual of licks, Adrian proceeds with his tender ministrations, each one eliciting a moan from my mouth.
A tsunami builds in my core.
Panting, I grasp his hair, pulling him closer to my sex. “Yes, yes!” The tension gathering inside me is so strong, so overwhelming, that only seconds pass before the tsunami makes landfall.
With a cry, I come, my toes curling as hot ecstasy rushes down my spine.
Panting, I open my heavy eyelids.
Huh. Did I pass out for a second there?
Last I checked, Adrian was dressed, but now, he’s deliciously naked—and his manhood is bigger and harder than in any of my fantasies, so much so there’s a not-unpleasant quiver in the center of my womanhood.
And yes, the “hoods” mean cock and pussy, respectively.
“That was amazing,” I breathe out.
His lips quirk with masculine pride. “I’m glad.”
I reach for his cock, but as my fingers brush the velvety skin, Adrian draws away.
“I want to return the favor,” I explain shyly.
His eyes gleam, and his voice is husky. “As much as I’d love that, I want to be inside you.”
Gulp. How can this one sentence make me go from sexually satiated to its complete opposite?
“Assuming,” he continues, “that the honor of GDing you is still on the table. I would understand if?—”
“Yes,” I gasp. “You can have me on the table.”
He smiles roguishly. “For your first time, how about we use a bed?”
I nod with way too much enthusiasm.
“You know it might hurt, right?” Adrian asks. “I’ll do my best to be gentle, but?—”
“Yes. I’m ready.” I dart a worried glance at his beautiful-and-hopefully-not-too-big deflowering instrument.
That which I’m looking at twitches… and maybe winks at me.
“And you know what to expect in general?” Adrian continues softly.
“I’ve seen lots of porn,” I say with a confidence I do not feel.
Hey, my preparation is better than that of any of the heroines from historical romances, where they either get a clue from farm animals or awkward chats with their mothers and other married ladies. Case in point, Daphne from Bridgerton didn’t even know about the pull-out method, or sperm in general. Just one cum shot would’ve educated her, not to mention a bukkake video, where the actresses borderline drown in the stuff.
“Real life can be different from porn,” Adrian says, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “But either way, do you have any requests or suggestions?”
“No choking, please,” I say earnestly. “And maybe don’t slap my face with your dick… this time around. Oh, and if your attitude toward anal has changed since you wrote in your journal, let’s skip that for today too, at least as far as my butt goes.”
He nods solemnly, even as the crinkles around his eyes deepen. “You got it.” His gaze turns more serious. “You should also know that I’m clean.”
Shit. I should’ve asked that first and foremost. “I’m also clean,” I blurt. “And you already know about my IUD.”
Adrian’s reply is to kiss my neck again. Then his fingers feather through my hair, ruining my coiffure. I inhale sharply as his cock presses against my belly, and I feel heat pooling just a few inches below it.
His mouth retraces the path from earlier, down my belly and over to my clit.
Wait a second. I thought?—
He laps between my folds once again, and thought becomes the furthest thing from my mind. Reveling in the pleasure coiling inside me, I writhe underneath him, growing desperate for the release.
His clever tongue keeps going.
My hands ball into the sheets. Here we go. Another record-breaking orgasm is about to?—
But no. Adrian pulls away just as I am on the brink. The head of his cock is now where his tongue was a second ago, teasing my entranceand driving me insane in equal measure.
Before I can let out a cry of frustration, Adrian captures my lips in a scorching kiss.
The heat inside me intensifies. I wouldn’t have guessed that tasting myself would be such a turn on, but here we are—and now I need him inside me so badly I may scream.
As if sensing my desperation, Adrian gently enters me, and there’s a moment when pleasure is tinged with pain, but the pleasure quickly wins out—likely due to all the endorphins having their way with my opiate receptors. All I want is to reach that elusive orgasm that I was teased with, and lo and behold, it starts building anew, faster than I thought possible.
“That’s it,” Adrian grunts as he thrusts deeper. “Come with me. Now.”
What choice do I have? My inner muscles quiver around his cock, and I dig my nails into his back as I come on the next thrust.
Adrian groans in pleasure and grinds into me. I must’ve squeezed him just right because I feel the warm wetness of his release as another aftershock of pleasure bursts forth inside me.
Wow. That was… wow.
I can neither move nor open my eyes.
I bet there’s a blissed-out expression on my no-longer-virginal face.
I hear Adrian move off the bed.
Whatever.
He comes back, and a warm, wet cloth presses against my center.
Yeah. This is bliss. And it continues as Adrian wraps his body around mine.
It might be my sleepy brain, but I can almost visualize our fake marriage transforming into something. Something real. Something where I can feel this way every day.
If I could, I’d bottle this moment forever, but alas, I drift off to sleep.