Another Dawn (53 page)

      
Nothing mattered except the man who now held her in his arms. Nothing at all.

      
He lowered her to her feet slowly, letting her body slide along the front of his. This was their wedding night. Her head swam with the delicious possibilities.

      
His mouth captured hers and Sofie relished his unique, compelling flavor. The kiss was bottomless, wet, savage. The best kind.

      
His lips left hers to venture down her throat, and she was vaguely aware of him kicking the door shut behind them. A trail of fire in its wake, his mouth tarried at the swell of her breasts above the daringly cut gold dress.

      
Her breasts swelled and ached in anticipation. Boldly, she inched her hand downward, thrilled to find him swollen, too. Ready.

      
"God, Sofie, I–"

      
A knock at the door made them groan in unison, then Sofie sighed and said, "The champagne."

      
"Damn stupid idea of mine. You stay right here and hold that thought."

      
"Why, what thought might that be, sir?" She batted her lashes innocently.

      
"Mmm, I've always wondered what it would be like to ravish a, uh, proper young lady."

      
"Oh, my. Did you say ravish, sir?" She batted her lashes again, giggling when the impatient waiter pounded on the door again, more loudly than before.

      
Luke released her and threw open the door. The waiter brought in two bottles of champagne, opened one and filled two glasses. Luke tipped him then ushered him out and closed the door.

      
He handed her a glass, then took one for himself. "You know something?"

      
"What?" He was so close she could smell the tangy substance the barber must have put on his skin, and the musky male scent that was Luke's alone.

      
"I've never tasted champagne before."
 

      
A moment of regret threatened her happiness, but she dismissed it. "And I don't remember tasting it before, so this will be a first for us both."

      
"Here's to us...and to our future together."
 
Luke tapped his glass gently against hers. It made a melodic ringing sound as he linked his arm through hers and raised his glass to his lips, while she did the same.

      
She took a long drink of the cold, bubbly liquor. "Mmm."

      
"Mmm," he echoed, his gaze on her over the rim of his glass. "It's very good, but I've tasted one thing I like even better."

      
"Dr. Pepper?"

      
Luke threw his head back and laughed, spilling his glass of champagne down the front of her exposed cleavage. "You're so romantic, Sofie," he teased, looking at her. "Hmm, shame to waste good champagne."

      
Before she realized what he intended, his warm tongue was following the cool droplets of spilled champagne along the curve of her breast. He dipped his fingers into his glass and sprinkled more champagne across her flesh.

      
Breathlessly, Sofie watched him repeat his earlier behavior, licking and sucking sparkling droplets of champagne off her skin. She eyed the bottles sitting on the table, wicked thoughts dancing through her mind. "Luke?"

      
"Hmm?"

      
She touched her finger to his lips and summoned her sultriest voice, "Unhook me, lose the monkey suit, then bring that champagne to bed."

      
His eyes bulged, but he nodded vigorously. She slipped from his embrace, then turned so he could release the endless row of hooks at the back of her dress. That he kissed every millimeter of skin as he exposed it was an unexpected perk. By the time she stood before him wearing nothing but a corset, her breasts protruding high and round above it, she was already dangerously aroused.

      
She watched him nearly tear off his suit and fling it over the back of a chair. Her gaze gravitated to his proud manhood, jutting out from a nest of dark curls. He was big and hard.

      
And hers.

      
The expression in his eyes was filled with promises, and Sofie knew he would–and could–keep every one.

      
"Unlace this thing?" She turned her back to him, surprised to feel his hands on the bare cheeks of her butt instead.

      
"Later," he whispered, urging her to face him again. He leaned back to gaze down at her approvingly. "Got a whip stashed anywhere?"

      
"Luke!"
 
She giggled, reaching down between them to hold his solid erection in both hands. "I don't think we'll need one. Do you?"

      
He shook his head. "More champagne?" Reaching to the side, he grabbed the open bottle off the end table. With a wicked smile, he pressed his thumb over the opening and gave the bottle a gentle shake.

      
Then he sprayed her.

      
Sofie gasped in shock as the cold liquid splattered across her bare breasts. Her nipples hardened instantly and her surprise turned to something much more powerful than humor.

      
Suspiciously nonchalant, he took her hand and pulled her toward the bed, the open–and far from empty–bottle in tow. Chuckling, he nudged her playfully into bed and placed the bottle on the nightstand.

      
Sofie giggled, but as she witnessed the transformation in his eyes, her laughter dissolved into a gasp. He put one knee on the bed, hovering over her in the well-lit room. His gaze raked her, and she took the opportunity to study him thoroughly as well.

      
She couldn't bear to look and not touch, so she reached for him, but he grabbed her hand. "No way, wife. I'm in charge now."
 
He gently but firmly gripped her wrists and pressed them to her sides as he climbed over her.

      
"Wife?" She could barely breathe as his heady scent and her own desire gripped her.

      
"I like the sound of that."
 
He nuzzled her neck, just below her earlobe, then kissed and nipped his way downward, stopping to lick champagne off her flesh along the way. "Wife," he murmured against her tattoo.

      
Naked and wanting, she treasured each touch of his lips, each swipe of his warm tongue against her bare skin. She felt foreign and exotic, detached from her physical being, yet acutely conscious of every rising need that charged through her.

      
Her insides trembled and she grew increasingly aware of the emptiness Luke would soon fill. She craved this coupling even more desperately than before. After all, this was their wedding night.

      
She watched in awe as he tasted her, kneading her supple flesh just above the corset. Her nipples stood proud and ready, appearing as if she'd applied blusher to make them more prominent. But the mere thought of Luke's mouth made them tingle and grow with need.

      
"Mine," he murmured against her flesh, drawing her nipple deeply into his mouth.

      
"Yes, always."
 
Moaning, she arched against his wonderful mouth and secured her hands behind his neck. She cherished each caress of his tongue, each gentle pull of his lips against her breast.

      
Her body wept for him as he left her breast and kissed his way downward. Eager to feel him inside her, Sofie tightened her grip on him, but he quickly shifted himself between her quivering thighs.

      
Instinct told her his intentions, though she had no way of knowing whether or not she'd ever experienced this delicious torture before. This was madness. Sweet, delicious madness.

      
She shivered, but definitely not from cold, as he kissed the slope of her hip and placed his hands beneath her bottom. He held her securely, tipping her toward him as he kissed his way lower. Molten heat concentrated between her legs as she anticipated his touch.

      
Then, wondrously, he tasted her, slowly and gently. She'd weathered some intensely erotic dreams these past few weeks, but she'd never even imagined anything this wild and wicked.

 
      
Fever consumed her. She heard an odd, low sound–her own purr of pleasure. This was primal. Ruthless.

      
Spectacular.

      
She immersed her fingers in his short curls as she climbed higher and higher. Nothing existed except his possession, his mouth, and her need.

      
He was all-powerful. Merciless. His tongue possessed her, his hands held her hostage. Her hips arched ever-upward. Ever-closer. She shattered into a billion dazzling fragments as completion swept through her.

      
Then he kissed her thighs again and maneuvered himself upward, cradling her breasts in his skillful hands. Something wet sprinkled across her breasts, and she realized it was the champagne again, but now she welcomed the cold droplets, because she knew what would follow.

      
No longer gentle, he nursed at her breasts like an infant, pressing them together to sample each in turn. "Sweet," he murmured, tugging and suckling, driving her to the brink of madness.

      
She was on edge, near the fringes yet again. He hadn't let her come down far and she was ready for more. Gently, he rolled her onto her side and released the laces, slipping the corset from her sweat-slick torso. She moaned as more droplets of champagne touched her skin, followed immediately by his warm, wet mouth.

      
"Now, Luke," she breathed, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone speech. She only wanted and needed, and knew he could end her misery.

      
His mouth took hers again as he covered her with his hot, hard body and stroked her tongue with his. Then she felt his heated arousal tantalizing the tender folds of her vagina. She was ready–so ready. His first hard plunge made her cry out in victory.

      
"Yes."
 
She wrapped her legs around his waist, inviting him even more deeply into her starving body. Hot and hungry, she fused herself to him. A moan rumbled from deep in her throat as he retreated then returned again. And again.

      
And again.

      
He murmured words of endearment as his delicious torture went on and on, pushing her higher and higher, to spiral out of control. Each thrust grew more forceful than the one before, more demanding. He reached for her legs and draped them over his shoulders as he continued to possess her.
 

      
Hard. Fast. Deep.

      
She crossed into a shadowy dimension of delight and pleasure where nothing else mattered. Every movement exposed a piercing new pinnacle, a more luscious layer than before. She opened her eyes, but the light faded, then returned even brighter.

      
Deep and sure, he came into her again and again. She was brainless, primed for every stroke of his body, answering his quest with several small orgasms which built and snowballed into one continuous, achingly divine moment.

      
He filled her with himself–branded her, made her his in every way. Sofie held him deep inside, never wanting to let him go.

      
He kissed her deeply, breathlessly, then eased his weight to her side, gathering her against him. She curled onto her hip with her back against him, cherishing the tender kisses he bestowed her bare shoulder.

      
"I love you, Mrs. Nolan," he whispered, his warm breath tickling the fine hairs at her nape.

      
She stretched and rolled onto her back, gazing into his beautiful eyes. "I love you, too, Mr. Nolan."
 
She stroked his cheek with her thumb, praying their love would always be like this. Perfect and strong. Yes, time would temper their love to steel.
 

      
She smiled, remembering the remaining champagne. Reaching for the open bottle, she raised up on one elbow and pressed him to the mattress with her free hand.

      
"What...do you think you're doing?" he asked, looking warily at the bottle.

      
Sofie tilted the bottle and took a long pull of bubbly liquid. "Thirsty?"
 

      
Before he could answer, she emptied the bottle.

      
Right between his legs.