Chapter 14
Delaney
I’m not sure when our wedding finery disappears, but within minutes, we’re naked, our clothing scattered to various parts of the bedroom.
“I’m going to fuck you, Laney,” my husband says, backing me into the middle of the room. “Probably several times before the night’s over. And I’ll do other things too. Bury my face here.”
He slides his hand down my body and cups me between my legs, pressing the heel of his hand against my clit while his fingers stroke along my cleft.
I let out a strangled cry and thrust my hips into his hand. “Daniel!”
His other hand squeezes my breast, pinching my nipple. A streak of heat shoots all the way to my core. My pussy clenches as I rock against him.
“Sometimes, I’ll take you hard and deep when you need it. Other times, I’ll be gentle, like this.”
He cups my breast as he dips his head, his lips feathering over my nipple. The heat becomes a furnace as the whisper-like caress lands directly between my thighs. I sway toward him as he lifts his head, only to moan loudly as he rolls my nipple between his fingers.
“I’ll give you whatever you need, Laney. Fast. Slow. Raw. Tender.”
I suck in a breath. “And… what do I need right now?”
“This.”
He cups the nape of my neck and slants his mouth over mine.
His kiss begins softly, then quickly grows hungry as his grip on his control falters.
It contains a breath-stealing intensity as he creates a delicious friction with his mouth, evoking an answering ache between my thighs that demands satisfaction.
Hot glides of his tongue against mine send zings of pleasure along every nerve ending. I melt against him as he fills all my spaces with the force of his love.
And it is a force—unlike anything I’ve known before. Fierce. Patient. All-encompassing.
This man has stolen my heart, even the parts of it I was afraid to give.
I let go of the last brittle edge inside me, knowing I’m safe. I won’t fall. He won’t let me.
His fingers begin a rhythmic stroking, one fingertip circling right where I need it, his pressure light at first, then firmer when he senses I need more.
He’s relentless as he pushes me to the edge.
I break apart within minutes, bucking and quivering, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my thighs shaking.
Daniel holds me close, his chest heaving, his cock twitching against my belly, as I catch my breath. His hand is still between my legs, not rubbing, just a firm, steady anchor that eases me down from my climax.
I release a shuddering breath as he kisses across my cheek and wraps his arms around me, knowing we’ve only touched the surface of the pleasure we’ll share tonight.
Next thing I know, he’s swinging me up in his arms and carrying me toward the adjoining bathroom.
“What are you—”
“Didn’t get to carry my wife over the threshold.”
“So you’re carrying me over the what?” I giggle. “Shower tray?”
Daniel stops suddenly. “Do that again.”
“Do what?”
“That giggle.” His voice drops. “The one where you forget to be careful.”
I mock glare. “Delaney Phillips doesn’t giggle.”
He taps my nose. “Ah-ah. Delaney Sutton now. And fair warning. I might have to carry you somewhere else just to hear that again.”
“Maybe I’ll carry you, cowboy.”
He raises my hand to his mouth and kisses my palm. “You already do.”
Those words bring a lump to my throat as he sets me down by the shower stall, hands lingering at my waist, making sure I’m steady before he lets go.
Turning on the shower, he waits for the water to warm before guiding me under the spray. He steps in beside me and grabs the shower gel, tipping some into his big palm.
The scent of lemon and eucalyptus hits my nose as his hands glide over my skin. He massages my ass, dipping his fingers between the cleft. My back arches involuntarily, surprised at how good it feels.
“You like that, don’t you, Laney?” Daniel mutters, his finger circling my back entrance. “Like your husband touching you here.”
“I like my husband touching me everywhere,” I say breathlessly.
“Lean back, sweetheart. Let me wash your hair.”
I do, shuddering as his hands slide down the front of my body, slick with the shower gel. He massages each breast and down over my mound to glide through my folds with his thick fingers.
“I thought you were washing my hair.”
He nuzzles my neck. “Keep getting distracted by this beautiful body.”
Daniel grabs the shampoo bottle, and I moan as he massages it through my scalp. I tip my head under the spray, and he repeats the process with the conditioner.
“I’m starting to think you missed your calling,” I tease. “You sure you didn’t mean to be a hairdresser instead of a rancher?”
“This is premium, husband-grade service.”
“Do I get a complimentary blowout?”
His hands move through my hair slowly, deliberately. “My wife gets whatever she wants.”
I turn in his arms. “What about what my husband wants?”
Pouring a little shower gel onto my palm, I slide my hand between us to his cock. He growls deep in his throat, eyes closing, head falling back against the tiles.
“Do you like it when I do this?” I ask, closing my fist around him and squeezing before dragging my hand up and down.
“Fuck, yes,” he mutters, jaw tight.
“Am I doing it right?”
Daniel half laughs, half moans. “Laney, you have my cock in your hand. There is no wrong way.”
I nip at his lower lip. “Some things feel better than others. Do you like it when I do this?”
I rub my thumb over the slit at the tip, finding the extra slickness there and smearing it in small circles.
Daniel grunts. “Jesus, woman, you’re driving me insane.”
Cupping the back of my head, he brings my mouth to his.
He’s not gentle as he devours me. And I like it.
Opening my mouth beneath his, I suck his tongue, as wild and needy as he is.
I press closer, turning my hand so my palm slides against his shaft, hitting that spot beneath the crown as my nails scrape over his balls.
He wrenches his head away, breath coming in harsh, uneven pulls. Mine is no better—heat coiled tight and aching, my whole body humming.
“That’s it,” he growls, decision made.
Before I can ask what he means, he’s reaching for a towel, brisk and efficient. He dries me off quickly, hands sure and everywhere they need to be without lingering, like he’s barely holding onto his control.
I laugh breathlessly. “Daniel—”
“Bedroom,” he says, voice low. “Now.”
He scoops me up again—no ceremony this time—and the world tilts. The shower is forgotten. Then the mattress hits my back, and the air leaves my lungs in a soft gasp.
I blink up at him as he looms over me, wet hair, dark eyes, completely undone.
There’s no rush in his gaze now. Just intent.
Hands on my knees, he pushes them toward my chest, my soaked center completely exposed to him.
“Hold them open,” he instructs, his voice harsh with desire.
Then his head ducks between my legs. His hands lift my ass and his tongue slides over my pussy with long, flat strokes as he devours me.
He pushes a finger inside me, first one, then another, pumping and licking.
My inner walls clench around him, and I gasp as I race toward my release.
He pushes me to breaking point, clamping his lips around my nub, sucking on it hard and flicking it with his tongue.
His fingers press on that spot inside me that has me splaying my knees even wider and arching my back.
But as I’m about to burst, bigger and louder than before, he removes his mouth and fingers.
I open my eyes to see him prowling up my body between my spread thighs. His beautiful gray eyes are wild and feral, his cheeks red, his lips parted as he pants.
The round, blunt pressure of his cock at my entrance pushes slowly upward, driving me wild. I jerk beneath him, dislodging him.
“Laney, for the love of God, hold still, or I’ll come before I get inside you.”
I release my knees and wrap my legs high around his hips, my hands clinging to his shoulders. I pull him toward me as I reposition, aligning him with my entrance again.
Daniel pushes forward quickly this time, thrusting forward through my swollen folds. An ache somewhere between pleasure and pain blooms as he stretches me, my body still adjusting to his girth and length.
He blankets me with his body, thrusting in deep. I shudder as his chest rubs my sensitive nipples and the hard ridge of his pelvis rides over my clit with each plunge of his hips.
“Daniel—”
“Give it to me, Laney. Give me everything.”
I do.
My body arches into his as I burst around him, my inner muscles clenching and pulsing around his shaft, milking him as he follows me into bliss. He shouts my name as he stills inside me, planting himself deep as his climax barrels through him.
Our bodies move together with the aftershocks, our breathing labored.
Once the rush has subsided, Daniel lifts his weight off me, bracing himself on his elbows above me. I gaze up at him, tracing his features with my fingers, fascinated by my husband. When I reach his lips, he nibbles, then sucks the tip of one finger into his mouth.
“We’re truly married now, Mr. Sutton,” I whisper.
Something in me cracks the moment the words leave my mouth.
It’s small at first—a hitch in my breath, a tremor I can’t quite control. Daniel feels it immediately. His forehead rests against mine, his hands still warm and steady at my sides.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “Laney.”
I shake my head, trying to smile, but it wobbles. Ten years of holding it together—of being the strong one, the responsible one, the one who didn’t get to fall apart—come rushing up all at once.
“I’m sorry,” I say, even though I don’t know what I’m apologizing for. The tears spill anyway. Hot. Relentless. “I just—”
He gathers me up without a word, rolling onto his side and pulling me with him, tucking my face into his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I cry then. Really cry. For our parents. For the nights I lay awake listening to Kitty breathe, terrified I’d miss something. For the jobs I took, the dreams I shelved, the constant math of rent and groceries and medications and what ifs. For being eighteen and suddenly someone’s whole world.
“I was so tired,” I whisper into his skin. “I didn’t get to be tired. I didn’t get to stop.”
His arms tighten around me. “I know.”
The simplicity of it undoes me more than anything else. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t minimize it. Doesn’t tell me I was strong or brave or amazing.
He just knows.
“You don’t have to carry it alone anymore,” he says quietly. “You never have to do that again.”
I breathe him in. His warmth. His steadiness. The undeniable truth of him holding me while I finally let go.
For the first time in a decade, I believe it.
I’m not the only one standing guard anymore.
I’m Daniel Sutton’s wife, with all the love and family warmth that comes with it.
And I’m allowed to rest.