29. Take Me
29
TAKE ME
Gage
Thank fuck the hotel isn’t sold out today. But if it were, I’d have marched to every hotel on the Strip to find some privacy for even fifteen minutes with this woman.
When we reach the door to our room, she smiles coyly. “You and me and hotels. This is becoming a habit.”
“Hotel sex should be a regular one.” I stop for a second. “No—sex should be a habit,” I quickly revise… because seriously . There’s no point playing the virtue card any longer. Hell, we’ve barely been playing it so far. I move behind her, sweep her hair off her neck, and dust a kiss there as I swipe the key over the pad. “Can this be one of the perks of our temporary marriage?”
She murmurs as I kiss her. “Let’s see how good you are at convincing me of the marital benefits.”
I growl against her skin as I turn the handle. “I’m very persuasive…Mrs. Archer,” I tease, even though she didn’t take my name.
A laugh comes from her as she steps inside. “Or maybe it’s Mr. Starling.”
The second the door shuts, I haul her against me, her chest flush to mine. “Call me whatever you want…when you’re coming undone.”
“Deal,” she says, and then I start making good on my part of the bargain. I back her up to the wall, hold her face, and crush my mouth to hers.
Like I wanted to do in the chapel. At the front desk. In the hallway.
Finally.
It’s such a relief to kiss her behind closed doors. To kiss her without worrying about who’s out there in the store, or in the restaurant, or in the bar.
I kiss her deeply, thoroughly, like I plan to take her apart, orgasm by orgasm, here in this hotel room high up above the city of sin.
I devour those sweet lips, kissing off her lipstick as she ropes her arms around my neck, warm and pliant, tipping her head back.
A sign.
Letting me know how she wants to be kissed.
Like she’s not in charge.
I wrench apart from her, tilting my head, stroking her cheek. “You like orders?”
She gives a tease of a smile. “Try me.”
A rumble works its way up my chest as I reach for her wrists, then pin them over her head in a blur.
“You’re fast,” she says, her blue eyes sparkling.
I dip my face to the hollow of her throat, kissing her there before I let go and meet her gaze again. “Turn around. Hands against the wall.”
She spins, and I press her breasts to the wall, then brush her hair to the side. “Your neck,” I murmur, coasting my lips across her skin, inhaling her cherry scent, then running my nose into her soft hair. Her shampoo’s different. Something subtler, something clean and sweet I can’t identify. I roam my hands down her arms.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve wanted to touch you?” I drop a kiss on her collarbone as I slide her sweater down her shoulder.
“How many?” She’s breathless as I travel across her soft skin.
“Can’t count that high,” I murmur then give a flick of my tongue over the shell of her ear.
She shudders beautifully. “Me neither.”
Her desire rushes through me, mingles with my own, grows stronger, digs deeper. I gather her hair in my hand, tug on it.
She gasps.
Setting a hand on her chin, I angle her toward me, exposing her neck. I coast my lips along the column of her throat, her pulse hammering against my touch as I go.
When I stop, I turn her around once more so she’s facing me. Then I grab her ass and hike her up. “Wrap those legs around your husband,” I command.
And my obedient, horny wife complies, squeezing those lush thighs around my hips as I carry her to the bed.
“I’m such a typical bride,” she jokes, then glances down at her very non-bridal attire. The sweater, jeans, and sneakers.
“It’s perfect for you. All of this. Everything,” I say as I promptly remove her clothes, then hiss out a breath between my teeth when she’s naked and glorious, full breasts, soft stomach, creamy skin. “My wife is so fucking sexy,” I say, and I’m about to push her down, then climb over her when she shakes her head.
She twirls a finger at me. “Your turn, husband.”
I’m standing at the foot of the bed and she’s sitting, watching, pleased.
I give her a lopsided grin as I undo the buttons on my shirt, but when I’m halfway done, she’s crawling to the end of the mattress, kneeling, taking over.
Elodie Starling is an interesting mix of bold and submissive, and I am going to have a fantastic time exploring the cocktail of her. After she tugs the shirt from my jeans, she slides it down my arms, and I let it fall to the floor.
She takes several seconds to stare at my chest, my arms, my abs, and I do not mind the admiration. I like her eyes on me. So much.
“Feels like forever since our failed one-night stand,” she says, unbuttoning my jeans.
“Failed? I seem to recall you riding my face. I call that a win.”
She shakes her head as she unzips my jeans. “It’ll be a win when you push me down onto my stomach and fuck me like that.”
I…blink.
Then groan.
Next, I drag a hand through my hair as I take a fucking minute to absorb the beautiful, filthy specificity of that image. “That something you picture at night? When you’re all alone with your toy collection and your fantasies of me?”
“I do. A lot,” she says, pushing my jeans down, then my boxer briefs, freeing my cock. Which is very, very happy to see the Mrs.
She wraps a hand around my aching dick, staring at my length like she’s never been this hungry before in her life. My legs shake.
As she strokes languidly, she nibbles on the corner of her lips. I tremble.
I could savor this. Standing in front of her, letting her play with my cock, cataloging her excitement.
But that’s not what the woman ordered.
I bat her hand off, then shed the rest of my clothes. “I’m gonna give you everything you want, but before you get my cock, I need to make sure you’re good and ready. How does that sound to you?” I ask, tugging on her ankle and pulling her down the bed, manhandling her since I’m pretty sure she likes that.
The shiver that runs over her body says I’m right. Then she does, too, as she says, “Sounds so good.”
I climb onto the bed, nudging her thighs apart and kneeling between them. I run a hand up her soft stomach, then to her beautiful, majestic tits. And finally, at long fucking last, I play with them.
These gorgeous beauties.
I bury my face in them, and I never want to leave. She grabs my hair, curls her fingers through it, jams my face against her tits with a loud moan. Heat roars through me. Her reaction revs my engine. But I’m pretty sure nuzzling her tits isn’t going to be enough.
As I fondle them, I move over, lying next to her. My eager fingers coast along her belly, down between her thighs, finding her slick center. My breath hitches. Hers stutters. “You’re soaked,” I say, marveling. She’s hot and silky and so turned on.
“Do something about it,” she says, at the same time as she parts her thighs for me.
“So greedy. So bossy,” I mutter against her tits.
“Do something about it now ,” she demands, arching into my hand, and then using my hand as a toy.
Thrusting against it, rocking into it, seeking contact.
I follow her lead, playing with her pussy the way she wants. With teasing circles on her clit, then deep thrusts inside the warm, wet paradise. I draw a nipple into my mouth as I slide my fingers inside, then along her clit, enjoying the welcoming warmth of her.
The needy moans that fall from her parted lips.
The thrust of her hips. The journey of her hands—up to her hair, like she can barely handle how good she feels.
I stop licking since she’s breathtaking to watch.
But I can’t watch for long because she likes it too much when I play with her tits. I kiss and lick her breasts while I stroke her sweet pussy, listening to her noises, responding to her plaintive cries.
More, please, now.
Till she’s shaking, trembling then arching into my hand.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants, crying out, then shuddering as she comes undone.
When her eyes open, I bring my fingers to my mouth and lick her off each one. “You taste so fucking good. And now I get to feel you at last. Been wanting this for so long. Let me get a?—”
But before I can say condom, she sits up and kisses me, cutting me off with her greedy mouth. She’s sucking on my lower lip, sending sparks through my whole damn body, making my fucking toes curl, and that has never happened to me before.
“Gage,” she says, breaking the needy kiss, her voice more vulnerable than I’ve ever heard. “I don’t want to use a condom.”
I pause. Process. Picture.
My dick turns to granite. My blood is on fire. And my mind is vibrating.
Before I can even rasp out a yes , she adds, “I’m negative. And on birth control.”
Her words are like a filthy poem.
“Negative here,” I say with a smile.
She roams a hand down my chest. “Take me.”
Two words.
They’re all I want.
All I need too.
Then, because a man should listen to a woman, I flip her to her stomach, raise her luscious ass, and kneel behind her.
“You picture this, baby?”
She gasps at that last word. “Yes.”
“You like when I call you baby?”
“I do,” she says, and she sounds drunk on this. On us.
Same here.
It’s barely been a month since I met her and yet…I feel like I’ve been waiting forever to get close to her like this.
To feel our bodies connect.
To rub the crown of my cock against her pussy.
To hear the hitch in her breath, the gasp in her voice as she asks for me.
“Please, Gage. Fuck me,” she says, begging beautifully.
“You want your husband’s cock?” I say, teasing my throbbing dick against her wetness.
“So badly,” she says on a whimper, her fists curling around the sheets.
I sink into her, savoring every single second. It’s so good, it’s unholy.
It’s electric.
Pleasure grips me hard, and I’m buzzing everywhere, a circuit breaker reaching maximum. I set a hand on her sexy back and push her down. Like that, I pin her, my chest to her back, an arm roped around her tits, my other hand gripping her hip.
I fuck her good and slow.
Deep and passionate.
Letting her feel every inch of me with every goddamn thrust.
Reaching that sweet spot inside her.
She grips the sheets, parts her lips, begs for me. “Yes, more, so good.”
My nerves fray. My brain goes haywire. And lust consumes every single thought.
Except…maybe not all of them. As I fuck her harder, I’m keenly aware that today is not a one-time thing. That she is already so much more than a habit. That I’m already a little wild for my wife.
“Oh god. Yes. So good,” she says, my noisy, horny, greedy, wildly aroused wife, who seems to love it when I fuck her.
When I slide a hand up higher, past her breasts, she’s lost. Moaning, writhing, murmuring.
“The sounds you make,” I mutter then thrust deep, reaching the end of her.
“The way you fuck,” she murmurs, arching back against me.
“How we fit,” I say, holding her tight, swiveling my hips, and taking her. Just fucking taking her.
Pleasure blasts through me, a torrent of impending bliss, and I’ve got to get her there soon. But she’s already helping herself along, maneuvering her hand between her legs.
“Fucking love that you’re playing with your clit,” I praise as I ease out then drive into her.
“Feels so good with you inside me,” she murmurs then cries, “Oh god, deeper.”
I obey, fucking and filling her, and losing my mind, and I’m sure my soul, to this exquisite bliss as she shouts and screams then shudders under me, coming hard and beautifully, and I’m right there with her.
Pleasure jolts through me, hard and recklessly.
And even if this ends, I won’t regret a second of it.
I mean, when it ends.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, we’re freshened up and curled together in bed, smiling dopily as we contemplate room service. “Do we even have time?” she asks.
The clock ticks close to eleven. “We do,” I say.
But before we can order, we’re kissing again, then fucking again, then room service is the last thing I’m thinking about as I bend my wife over the couch and fuck her for all of Vegas to see.
It’s a damn good wedding day. Especially when she says, “You convinced me of the benefits of marriage.”
“And I won’t stop convincing you.”
Yes, she’s the best kind of habit already.
* * *
We land around three-thirty and snag a Lyft, returning to our all-business mode, making plans for the week ahead, all the things we need to do for the shop, and all the things we need to do for our temporary marriage.
Like, where to live. We can’t just stay in separate homes. That nosy fucker would sniff around, figure it out, lash out again.
I drag a hand through my hair, offering up suggestions. My home in Russian Hill has two small bedrooms. She says hers in Hayes Valley is about the same. And while we’re both fairly confident the girls will approve of our decision to tie the knot, we don’t think they’ll be up for sharing a bedroom.
“It’s a little overwhelming. All these details,” she says, apologetically.
I cup her cheek, catching her face in my hand. “Worth it. And don’t worry. We will figure it out,” I say, then look out the window. We’re on Webster Street now. “And this will be worth it too,” I tell her as the car slows to a stop outside The Chocolate Connoisseur.
“Be right back,” I say, then I grab a souvenir from Vegas, march to the door, and yank it open. The store’s full of customers and I don’t give a fuck about making a scene. I head straight to the counter and ask a young man with glasses for Sebastian. “You can tell him Gage Archer is here, and I’ve got the receipts he requested.”
The employee blinks, then says, “Umm.” Maybe the boss isn’t in today. That’s entirely possible. I’m taking a chance, after all.
But Elodie’s ruthless competitor must hear me since a few seconds later, the man with the smarmy face and the asshole interior strides from the back. He sports a sharp, expensive tailored shirt and ire in his eyes.
Curiosity, too though. I knew the fucker couldn’t resist seeing me.
A wary cat, he tilts his head. “What can I do for you?”
The second he reaches the counter, I slap down the paper in my hand, then stab it with my finger. “See this? It’s our marriage license.” I point to the names. “See that? Elodie Starling. Also known as…” I raise my chin, take a long, satisfied beat as I meet his beady gaze, then I let the words roll off my tongue like chocolate. “My wife.”
He blanches, his expression nothing but pure shock. Yup. He played chicken with the wrong guy. “What? You got married?”
I lift my left hand, rub my forefinger along my gleaming gold wedding band. The gesture isn’t lost on him. “Do not underestimate me. Do not underestimate the things I will do for my woman. And, like I said yesterday, don’t come around to the store and threaten my family.” I take the marriage license and sigh deeply, full of satisfaction. Worth it. So damn worth it. “Oh, and feel free to jump in a chocolate fountain.”