15. A Dream Wedding #5
"Finally, I have you all to myself," he growled, the possessive thrill in his voice sending shivers down her spine.
Before Iris could respond, Nash scooped her into his arms. She let out a small shriek, but his only response was a pleased chuckle.
Her heart hammered against her ribcage, every cell in her body acutely aware of him.
He strode through the sand, his pace sure and unwavering, carrying her to the stairs that lead up to their private balcony.
He took the stairs two at a time without even breathing heavily.
He crossed the balcony in three strides, shifting his hold so he could reach down and throw open the French doors. The door closed behind them with a soft click; the curtains billowing with the motion of the door.
He sat her down by the bed. Nash’s gaze devoured her, dark and intense, as she stood there before him. The hunger in his eyes reflected the wildness she felt climbing within herself. Before the attack, she would have felt self-conscious standing before him like this. But not now.
She stood in her wedding dress and felt like a goddess. She exulted in the feeling. It was a strong aphrodisiac. To know she could bring a man like him to his knees. He stepped close to her, his scent filled her nostrils.
"Your dress," he murmured, his fingers tracing the lace along her collarbone, "stays on." His hand slid down and cupped her breast through the thick material of her gown.
Iris gasped, his grip giving just the right amount of pressure.
There was no room for protest, not that she wanted to.
His lips claimed hers in a searing kiss, demanding and urgent.
Nash's hands were everywhere, running along her dress.
Desperate and wild. She heard the telltale sound of the crystals falling to the floor.
She should feel upset that he was ruining the wedding dress of her dreams.
But instead of anger, all she felt was lust.
"I've dreamt of seeing you like this for three years," he grunted. His words sounded animalistic. "It doesn't come off until I have ripped it from your body."
His words ignited a fire within her, and each caress stoking the flames higher. Iris lost herself in the sensation he brought forth in her body. It was responding to his masterful command. Her breaths came in ragged pants, her moans swallowed by his hungry mouth.
Underneath the layers of silk and lace, she trembled, her skin alight with pleasure. Nash's dominance was a force of nature, and she was swept away in its current. Happily. There was nowhere else she would rather be. Submitting to him came with a pleasure so intense she could barely stand it.
"Mine," he reiterated between fervent kisses, pushing her down on to the bed. His hand reached out and grabbed the material of her skirt. Forcing it up, bunching it at her waist. The stiff material fought him, and with a sudden jerk, she heard a loud tear and then her legs were free.
Apparently, the ripping was starting earlier than she thought. She smirked, but soon her amusement was forgotten. Ripped away by a firm stroke of her slit from his large hand.
"Stay just like that," he growled as he stood back. With quick movements, he undressed. Carelessly leaving thousands of dollars worth of tuxedo strewn along the floor.
His thick erection sprung out as he lowered his briefs, and its impressive girth drew her gaze. His grip lowered to it, stroking it slowly.
"Spread your legs," he commanded. She obeyed without a thought. "You're so fucking perfect." His words caused a rush of arousal to soak her underwear. His eyes locked on the spot between her thighs, and without warning, he dove onto her. He reached down and tore them right off of her.
He grabbed her around the knees and then fit himself between her thighs. He moved them both up the bed, staring at her while he adjusting the pillow beneath her head. "Comfortable?"
"Yes," she answered with a furrow on her brow, confused by his action. He smirked at her before leaning down and placing a chaste kiss on her lips.
"Good, because you're going to be here a while." And then he thrust hard into her. It was perfect, and she was helpless against the loud moans that she let out. His thrusts were wild, no rhythm to them.
It should have been impossible for her orgasm to build, but it wasn't. Within minutes, she shattered around him. If it was anyone else, she would be embarrassed how absolutely wrecked she was for him.
"Yes, wife, come all over me." He growled, his lips moving along her jaw.
Biting and sucking his way down her throat.
In the morning, bruises would decorate her neck, and she couldn't bring herself to care.
She smiled at his words, but speech was beyond her.
His thrusts grew harder, more wild, and with a great bellow, he followed her over the edge.
He collapsed on her, rolling slightly to take most of his weight off of her. She curled up against him, basking in the moment. She felt like nothing could go wrong in her life now. Everything, for once, was perfect.