Chapter 18 #2
“If you drop me and I break my ankle, you are carrying me down the aisle.”
Titus snorted, almost lost his footing. Kyla shrieked, smacked his ass, and set her teeth at his ear.
“It would be worth it,” he shot back, sucking salt and whiskey from her neck, breathing her in like proof that this belonged only to him tonight.
The barn’s double door swung open with his boot. Moonlight bled down the hay chute. He wedged her between him and the rungs of the ladder. Kyla kicked off her boots, then scrambled up, bare feet splaying against weathered wood.
He followed.
The loft carried the scent of cut grass, dust, and old horses. He reached the top and hauled her to standing. Both half laughing, chests pressed tight. He spun her by the hips and pressed her forward.
He pushed her down firmly until her forearms braced on the hay bale and her ass lifted high for him. Dress bunched high at her waist. Underwear yanked aside.
He dropped to his knees behind her. Both hands gripped her ass and spread her open wide. He leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly from her clit all the way up through her soaked slit.
She tasted salty and sweet and ready. He circled her clit with firm strokes of his tongue then sucked it hard into his mouth. Her hips bucked back against his face.
“Fuck, that is it,” he growled against her pussy. “Bend over just like that for me. Show me how bad you need it.”
He slid two fingers into her tight heat and pumped them deep while his mouth stayed locked on her clit. “I love this pussy. I love how wet you get for me. Tomorrow I am marrying you and I still cannot get enough of how you open up for me like this.”
Her moans grew louder and more desperate. He sucked harder on her clit and stroked that spot that always made her lose control. Her thighs started shaking violently against his shoulders.
“Come on my tongue, Kyla. Let me taste you coming before I fuck you full of me.”
She came with a raw cry. Her walls clamped down on his fingers and her clit throbbed against his tongue. He kept licking and sucking her through every wave until she was trembling and gasping.
Only then did he rise. He freed his cock from his jeans, hard and ready. She reached back and wrapped her fingers around him, stroking once then twice.
He rubbed the head of his cock along her soaked entrance, then pushed in slow, letting her wet heat swallow him inch by inch until he buried himself to the hilt.
He gripped her hips and started to move. Each thrust went deep. Skin slapped against skin in the quiet loft. He leaned over her and slid one hand around to her clit, his fingers circling the swollen bud firm and steady while he kept thrusting.
“God, I love you,” he rasped against her ear. “Tomorrow, I get to call you my wife. You are going to be mine in every way.”
“Yes,” she moaned, her voice ragged. “My husband.”
She pushed back against him, meeting every thrust. He drove into her harder. The wet sound of their bodies filled the loft along with her gasps and the faint creak of the hay bale.
“I cannot wait to marry you tomorrow,” he growled. “I cannot wait to wake up next to you every morning and know you chose me.”
Her breath hitched. She turned her head just enough for him to see the edge of her grin. “Then do not stop, cowboy. Show me how much you mean it.”
He answered by snapping his hips faster, pounding into her slick heat. He pinched her clit lightly then soothed it with firmer circles. Her body tensed under him.
“Come for me, Kyla. Let me feel you come while I am buried inside you. Tomorrow, you wear my ring, but tonight you are already mine.”
She came hard. Her thighs trembled violently and her inner muscles locked down on his cock in strong waves that dragged him right over the edge with her. He thrust deep one final time and spilled inside her with a rough, broken sound of her name.
They sank into the hay, limbs tangled, too spent to care about scratched backs. The warmth of them faded slow. Titus turned his head, breathing in the sweet funk of her hair, the salt crusted at her temple, the ghost of bourbon on her breath.
He let his arm drape over her waist. His thumb caught on the curve of the ring she wore. The band still sharp-edged, worn for him alone until tomorrow’s vows made it public. Satisfaction and nervousness knotted together.
Kyla rolled toward him, shifting so their legs tangled. She pressed her mouth against his collarbone, lips barely brushing, as if memorizing the notch she had bitten so many nights before. Her hand curled low on his belly. Breathing even, slow. She did not speak.
Titus felt every inch of her. Night crept in slow. Through gaps in the barn walls, cool air brushed at their feet. From the world outside came little...an owl’s call, the last spitting crackle from the dying firepit.
He shut his eyes, willing time to stall. Wishing for one more hour before the world demanded new words, a crowd, and all the business of making forever official. He listened to Kyla’s breathing, her body pressed warm to his as sure as any contract.
They did not need words now. He pulled her closer, greedy for another touch. Down below, embers dulled. The party unraveled as tomorrow crept closer.
He kept his eyes shut and listened for her heart, letting his own race ahead. Sated, sealed, waiting in the hush before everything changed.