Playing For Love (11 page)

“You
have
to have one tonight,” I argued.

“Okay, fine. One,” she relented.

Five minutes later, David and I were alone.

“The green are chocolate with mint chocolate chip,” he explained, a bit of excitement showing over his favorite ice cream. “The pink is chocolate with cookies and cream. The white are French vanilla with chocolate and the other is chocolate with vanilla. I don't know which is which, but I can check if you want.”

He was too cute, getting excited over ice cream cupcakes.   

I gave him the answer he wanted. “Some of everything.”

He quickly filled the plate, effortlessly balancing it on one hand. Linking our fingers together, he proceeded to pull me out to the altar. A bench was under the canopy now—the oversized bench that had been in the master suite when I was getting ready.

Music started playing softly from the tiny hidden speakers throughout the backyard—I had finally spotted a few on our way back to the house.

“Is this why my mom wanted to go to bed? You had all this planned out?”  

“I gave you stuff to control.” His tone shifted to mischievous. “It's my turn again.”

He helped me sit, arranging my dress.

“Technically, you took over the decorations with that whole setup on the patio. And the cupcake-cake.”

His arched brow and sexy smirk was his only response, holding my gaze as he bent down, removing my sandals easily, then his boots and socks.  

“You're so bossy,” I breathed. His expression, our surroundings, and the simple intimacy of our wedding night aroused me.

“You love it. Deep down, you want it.” His voice was a soft growl as his strong legs straddled the bench and he sat.

I hated that he was right. I did love it. It made life so much easier.

“Grab one,” he said, placing the plate between us.

I chose a pink one, holding it up, debating how I should eat it. I could shove the whole thing in my mouth, but I didn't want to do that in front of David.

“Sweet girl, it's for you to eat. Not stare at,” he laughed.

“It's too big.”

He paused, holding his cupcake inches from his mouth. Looking at me, his expression was unreadable.

“I know you can fit that in your mouth. I've watched you swallow my cock.” A devilish grin formed on his face. “And it's a lot bigger than that tiny cupcake.”

“Shut up,” I fake groused as I tried to smother my smile.

“You would if I wasn't sitting here watching,” he said knowingly with laughter in his eyes. “Come on. Do it. No secrets. Pig out in front of me,” he cajoled playfully.

I debated for a minute, but the possibility of brain freeze stopped me. I took a small bite.

“Too bad you wasted that.” He quickly moved the plate while popping his cupcake into his mouth.

“What do you—?”

His hands diving under my skirt cut me off. His strong fingers gripped my thighs with surprising force as he leaned forward, taking my cupcake in his mouth. His lips and tongue sliding over my fingers as he stole my treat. I watched as he swallowed, the muscles in his neck working. It always reminded me of him on his knees, under me...

He made a low hungry noise as he jerked me into position, straddling the bench. Then he tugged me closer. His demanding hands gripping the sides of my panties, pulling them down. 

“Up,” he breathed.

My hips lifted and he slid them off, leaving me bare under the dress. His hands moved back under my skirt, getting caught in the layers of fabric.

“Are these multiplying under here?” he grumbled as he struggled to find me.  

“Don't rip it.” I laughed as he got frustrated.

“I didn't rip the panties. I'm not ripping this dress.” His voice was gentle. Tender. “Promise.” 

When his warm hands found my calves, my breath quickened.

“There we go,” he growled.

My pussy pulsed in desperate need as his hands moved up my thighs in a firm, possessive glide. When his fingers reached my folds, brushing over my slick cleft, his groan was so carnal and erotic, my core bloomed with hot arousal, heat spreading through me.

“
Fuck
, you're wet.” His guttural rasp had my heart racing.

Abruptly, he shoved my thighs apart, placing my heels on the bench, knees splayed wide. His fingertip grazed my swollen lips again and my breath left me in a rush.

“Can anyone see us?” I panted, remembering how many people were here.  

“Don't worry. We're too far out.” His fingers probed gently and my pussy clenched eagerly. “And the canopy will cover us from anyone with a view.”

He probed deeper and my pussy throbbed in satisfaction.

“It stopped,” I answered his searching fingers. 

“Maybe you're already pregnant.” His voice was hopeful.

I huffed a quiet laugh and diverted my attention to his tie, working it loose, hoping he couldn't see my discomfort. I was pretty sure it stopped from stress and I didn’t want him to know how right he had been about all this being too much for me.

His fingers pushed in deep.

I shuddered, heat racing up my spine. All thoughts melted away as his deft fingers expertly worked in and out of me. His other hand efficiently removed his tie in one smooth motion. 

The action showcasing his strength and control, pulled at something in me. I laid back, my knees falling wider, giving him better access. He made a throaty sound of approval. His thumb pressed to my clit and my eyes closed, my back arching. My hips tilted, asking for more as I blindly gathered the skirt up to my waist.

Then he pulled away.

“So fucking pretty. So wet and swollen for me,” he rasped thickly. His hungry gaze locked on my aching sex, commanding my body with a look, making my clit throb and my core clench as he removed his vest and shirt, revealing the muscles of his torso and arms, shifting and flexing with his quick movements.

I was struck realizing this man, this raw primal male, this mountain of cut muscle, was my husband.

His powerful body came down, bracing on a forearm, tangling his fingers in my hair. His other hand returned to my pleading pussy and bone-deep relief washed over me.

I groaned, arching, gripping his bicep as his fingers curled inside me, stroking along my wall. His breathing turned harsh and his sweet musky smell invaded my senses. Then the slow, sensual rhythm of “Gorilla”
started. David combined with Bruno Mars’s smooth voice and filthy words dropped my inhibitions. I leaned up, licking his hard chest, then biting.  

His deep growl reverberated through me, making me needier. More desperate. 

“Yeah, fucking bite me,” he demanded harshly, lowering his chest, giving me better access.

I licked his nipple and bit down. Hard. Still tonguing his flesh.

The groan that tore through him was both pained and erotic. His fingers pulled out of me, fumbling with his slacks, freeing his cock.

“You ready to take all of me?” he rasped. His thick head nudged against the lips of my sex.

“Yeah,” I answered breathlessly.

“Good.” He pushed in slow and steady, no hesitation. His other forearm coming down, caging me between his strong arms as he sank deep. “You're going to either way.”

I moaned. “Oh God.”

My body never seemed to adjust to his size, and part of me hoped it never would. I loved the sweet bite of his girth and length stretching me. I craved it.

My hands moved to his hips, feeling the tensed muscles there. His powerful thighs pressed mine wide. Pushing all the way in, hitting my cervix, he paused. His gaze moved over my face with a look that made my throat tighten with emotion.

A long moment later, he whispered, “I own you now.” His finger traced my cheekbone tenderly, his predatory eyes watching me.

I nodded, his conviction soothing that indescribable something deep inside me.

His hips rolled into me, a slow, gentle exploration, like he hadn't been fucking me nearly nonstop since we met. Slow and steady. Pushing in all the way. Then out. Powerful, slow, rolling thrusts. His rhythm matched the music. Claiming. Owning. Until we were both shaking with need. 

“David, more,” I begged, my climax so close, but still out of reach.

“Breathe me in,” he rasped, sliding in and out, controlled and explicit, refusing to give me what I wanted. “Feel me inside you. Just focus on me.”

I obeyed, blocking everything else out, focusing on his brutally thick length spreading me open, pushing deep with each stroke. His low moans, his possessive gaze, the hot flush of his skin on mine, his body working, flexing above me. Then I focused on the music, the lyrics resonating with me…

Everything tightened viciously, then released. I cried out as my orgasm surged through me. 

“Yeah,” he groaned low and long, burying his head in my neck as I shook. His pace didn't change as my pussy pulled and squeezed around him. Seconds later he tensed, his cock pulsed hard inside me once, twice, then he was coming, hot and hard, his voice tight and strained, “So fucking perfect. That's my sweet girl.”  

It always had a profound effect on me—his praise that was caught between coaxing and condescension.

My pussy throbbed around him, hungry for more. He groaned, burying his head deeper into my neck, his cock still hard inside me.

He eased out.

The disappointment and loss I felt was sharp.

Before I could protest, he gripped my wrist, gently pulling me with him until we were standing. His warm hands slid along my shoulders, fingers splayed. His touch was both loving and territorial as he moved behind me, carefully unbuttoning my dress. The way he undressed me with so much care still moved me. The gown slid down, pooling around my thighs in a fluffy stack. The night air wrapped around me as I took David's outstretched hand and stepped over the pile of silk. His searing gaze met mine, intense, heated and triumphant. Leaning down, he kissed me, his demanding tongue taking a slow, lush lick before directing me back to the bench. 

“On your knees and elbows.”     

My breathing sped up at his rough command.

I crawled onto the cushy, white, linen bench, obeying, presenting myself to him. Ass up, head down—I felt so exposed.

So vulnerable.

Anticipation and arousal had me strung tight as he moved behind me. My breathing turned labored as he left me waiting, spread open with my ass and pussy on display. The tension built, anticipation slowly turning to self-consciousness. Unable to bear it, I turned, looking over my shoulder.

Warmth bloomed inside me, hot and fierce.

His dark gaze was possessive and hungry as he stared at my exposed sex. All my insecurities vanished and my hips tilted, giving him a better view as I turned back to my hands. 

He groaned, a deep hungry, tortured sound that made my pussy throb.

Seconds later goosebumps raced over my skin as his tongue trailed from my lower back, down through the sensitive flesh of my crack. I stopped breathing as he teased my puckered hole, before slowly sliding through my folds, teasing my clit.    

I heard the whisper of fabric hit the ground. His body moved behind me, his warm thighs on the back of mine. His heavy cock rubbed along the cleft of my ass, slowly. I tensed when I felt the wide head nudge my tight opening. Once. Twice.  

My heart raced at the explicit threat.

A wave of relief engulfed me when he slid between my folds, pushing in. 

“Just relax. Let me take care of you.” His hand slid up my back, forcing me down until my head was resting on my arms. Before I could get comfortable, his hand was on my breast. Tugging and rolling my sensitive nipple. My breath hitched at the sharp sensation arrowing to my clit. He had me panting, desperate, thrusting back into him in under a minute. 

“David.” My voice was barely a whisper.

“I'm gonna take care of you,” he promised, meaning so much more than sex.

His hand moved, gripping my hip as he pulled out. He thrust in, angling his cock, hitting my G-spot. He did it over and over, forcing whimpered cries from my throat. 

“David,” I begged, my core coiling painfully tight.

“Let me do all the work,” he coaxed as his hand moved, his fingers fanning across my butt, his wet thumb massaging over my puckered flesh.

“David,” I whispered, trying to accept the new stimulation.

“I got you.” His pace changed, fucking me with long slow strokes.

I focused on his tight sac nudging my clit with each skillful lunge, until conflicting stimulus merged into one blinding need to be fucked. My hips arched back into his touch. The act felt taboo/vulgar for our wedding night, making me hot all over, not caring anymore which hole he fucked or with what. My hips pushed back again and his thumb slipped in, past the tight ring of muscle, a low moan escaping him as he pressed deep, deeper than ever before.  

I stilled. The feeling of fullness was shockingly intense in this position.

“
Relax
. I'm gonna take such good care of you. I promise.” At his tone, my body softened, relaxing, becoming pliant under his command.