Chapter 85
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
LOLA
He lays me down like I’m made of something precious. And then he devours me like I’m not.
His hands slide up my thighs, pushing the wedding dress to my waist. His fingers hook into my lace panties, the ones I picked specifically for tonight, white with a cherry stitched on. He drags them down my legs with his teeth.
His teeth. Everything this man does is crazy hot.
The lace catches on my ankle. He tugs it free and spreads my legs wide. “Are you ready to be worshipped, Mrs. Sterling?”
I suck in a breath. “Yes.”
He kneels at the edge of the bed. Hooks my legs over his shoulders and presses his mouth against the inside of my thigh and bites. Not hard. Just enough to leave a mark. A brand. I’m his.
Then he moves higher.
The first stroke of his tongue is slow. A long, flat drag from bottom to top that makes my spine lift off the mattress and my hands fist in the sheets.
“Hunter,” I gasp.
He hums against me. The vibration alone nearly sends me over.
He licks me like he’s memorizing the taste. Slow, thorough circles around my clit, then dipping lower, his tongue pushing inside me. My hips roll toward his mouth, and he grips them, pins them down, keeps me exactly where he wants me.
“Stay still,” he murmurs against my skin. “Let me eat.”
Two fingers slide in me alongside his tongue. He curls them, hitting the spot that makes white sparks explode behind my eyelids, and I cry out so loud it bounces off every surface in the barn.
He builds me ruthlessly. His tongue on my clit, his fingers working inside me in a rhythm that matches my heartbeat. My thighs start to shake. My hands leave the sheets and grab his hair, pulling him closer, grinding against his face because I’ve lost every ounce of shame I ever had.
“Hunter—I’m—”
“Give it to me.”
I come apart. The orgasm tears through me so hard my vision whites out. My back arches off the bed, and my thighs clamp around his head, and I scream his name.
He doesn’t stop. He holds my hips down and licks me through every aftershock until I’m trembling and oversensitive and trying to push his head away.
“One more,” he says.
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. Give me one more, firefly.” His thumb replaces his tongue on my clit. His fingers push deeper, faster, and a third finger stretches me in a way that makes my mouth fall open in a silent scream.
The second orgasm hits before I’m ready. Harder than the first. Deeper. It rolls through my body in waves that build instead of fade, and I soak his hand so completely I can hear it. And it’s so hot I’m on fire all over again.
“Goddamn,” he groans, pulling back to look at me. His face is glistening. His eyes are black. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”
I’m boneless. Trembling. Every muscle spent. And he’s not even close to done.
He rolls me gently onto my stomach. Unzips the wedding dress so slow it’s almost torture. He kisses every inch of skin as it’s exposed, my spine, my shoulder blades, the dimples at the small of my back.
The dress slides off, and I’m lying face down on rose petals in nothing but the cherry necklace and his ring.
I hear the tear of a condom wrapper. The click of a bottle cap.
His hand runs down my back. Over my ass. Between my cheeks. His thumb presses lightly, and I tense.
“Relax for me, firefly.” His lips press against the base of my spine. “Safeword?”
“Cherries,” I whisper.
“Good girl. You trust me?”
“With everything.”
He slides in a cold finger first. My breath catches, and he pauses. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Keep going.”
His finger eases in further. My body resists to start with as I squeeze my eyes shut, but once I adjust to the feeling, I want more. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Just like that. You’re doing so well.”
He works me gently. Adding more lube. Taking his time. His other hand slides beneath me and finds my clit, rubbing in slow circles that make the discomfort dissolve into something that borders on pleasure.
“More,” I breathe. “Please,” I beg.
I want to feel how full I’ll be with him inside me. I need it.
He replaces his finger with himself. The tip presses against me, and I bury my face in the pillow.
He pushes in. So slowly, I can feel every fraction of an inch. My hands fist in the sheets, and a sound comes out of me that’s somewhere between a moan and a sob.
“Breathe, baby. Slow breaths.”
I breathe. And the burn shifts. It transforms into something dark and deep and overwhelming that pulses in places I didn’t know had nerve endings.
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “Hunter. Oh my God.”
“I know.” His voice is wrecked. “Fuck, Lola. You’re so tight I can barely—” He stills and breathes through his nose. “You feel incredible.”
He moves. Not thrusting, just softly rocking his hips in a slow, controlled rhythm that lets my body set the pace. His fingers keep working my clit in tight circles, and the dual sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Every stroke sends a wave of pressure through me that builds at the base of my spine. It’s not like a regular orgasm building. It’s deeper.
“Faster,” I whisper.
He increases the pace. Just barely. His hand grips my hip for leverage, and his breathing goes ragged behind me. “You want to come like this, firefly?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
He presses harder on my clit. Rolls his hips deeper. And I can feel him fighting his own control. The restraint trembling in his hands, the growl building in his throat.
The orgasm doesn’t build. It detonates everywhere. It starts at the base of my spine and erupts outward, ripping through every nerve, every muscle, every cell. I scream into the pillow. My whole body clenches around him, and his grip on my hip turns bruising.
“Fuck, Lola,” he roars.
I feel him pulsing inside me, his forehead dropping against my back, his body shaking with the force of it.
We stay there. Just breathing. Rose petals sticking to my sweat-slicked skin. His weight on top of me.
He eases out carefully, disposes of the protection, and kisses the small of my back. Then he rolls me over. Settles between my legs and brushes my hair from my face. “How was that?” he asks quietly.
I stare at him. Try to find words. I’m not sure they exist. “I think you broke me.”
He grins. “In a good way?”
“In the best way.”
He leans down and kisses me. Slow and tender and still tasting like whiskey. “Now.” His dark eyes burn into mine. “The baby-making part.”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “Don’t you need a minute?” I tease.
He grins. “All I have to do is look at you, and I’m hard. Don’t worry about me, baby.”
He pushes inside me, and we both exhale. After everything, this feels like coming home. He fills me completely, and the sound I make is something between a sigh and a prayer.
There’s no rush. He moves slowly. His forehead pressed against mine, our noses touching, our breath mingling.
His hand cups my face as his thumb traces my cheekbone. “Look at me,” he murmurs.
I do.
His eyes are wide open. Every wall down. Every mask off. I’m seeing the man underneath all of it. The cowboy, the criminal, the father, the husband, and what’s there is just love.
The man who loves me more than life itself, for exactly who I am. “I love you, Lola Sterling.”
“I love you, Hunter Sterling.”
He rolls his hips, and I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer, wanting every inch, wanting no space between us.
We move together like something choreographed by the universe. His hand slides down to where we’re connected, his thumb on my clit again, gentle this time, and the orgasm that builds is nothing like the others.
“Come with me,” he whispers.
And I do.
We fall together. His mouth on mine, swallowing my sounds and giving me his. He fills me with a groan that vibrates through my chest, and I hold him inside me, my body pulsing around him, keeping him there.
He collapses against me, and I wrap myself around him and hold on. I can feel him. Still inside me. He rolls onto his side and takes me with him, wrapping the sheet around us. Pulls me against his chest until there is no space left between us.
Through the skylight, the stars are impossibly bright. A million lights scattered across an endless sky.
“Hunter?”
“Yeah, firefly?”
“Thank you for catching me that day.”
He presses his lips against the back of my neck. “I’ll catch you every time, in every single lifetime, city girl.”
I smile as I turn to look at my husband.
Maybe the world will always call him dangerous.
But Hunter Sterling was never meant to be tamed.
And loving him taught me something beautiful, too.
Neither was I.
The End.