Chapter 6

C onsidering how much effort had been put into the design of the estate, it seemed not one person had stopped to think about the layout. There was only a short walk between the building where they held events and the hotel, but the ground was covered in sharp gravel that was a nightmare for anyone wearing heels. Liam's hand was soft and warm in hers as he led her toward the hotel, walking slower than he usually would to keep her steady.

"You promised me a stache story."

Liam laughed, a light breeze ruffling his hair, and Jazz had to look away, staring at her feet—which was probably sensible, given how wobbly she was. "It goes back to when my moms started dating. I was seven, and a really shy kid. My mom—D," he clarified, presumably used to specifying which of his moms he was talking about. But Jazz recognized a subtle shift in his tone anyway, when he spoke about his moms; Danisha was Mom , and Eliza was more like Mum , as if Liam had picked up a touch of his dad's Irish accent when he was first learning to talk and it had stuck. "—didn't know much about kids, but she wanted to get to know me for my mom's sake. She took me to her favorite place from when she was a kid."

"The art museum?" Jazz guessed.

"Yeah. Her parents used to take her and her brothers when they were younger, and she said she wanted to share a family tradition with me. I loved it, obviously. She let me pick a book out at the gift shop and I chose a book of portraits. When we got home, I asked if we could have a sleepover so we could read the book together before bed."

"She stayed and read to you?" Jazz asked and he nodded. Liam's face always lit up when he talked about his family. Usually, Jazz was a little bitter when she saw people with happy families, but it was hard not to be happy for Liam.

"She did. The book was just portraits, but she made up stories about them all for me. After that, she kind of just moved in." He shrugged. "It's a stereotype for a reason. Anyway, she read that book to me every night for months and I was obsessed with the portraits, but especially the fact that so many of them had mustaches. Obviously, I decided my new life goal was to have a mustache."

"Obviously." They paused outside the elevator, the metal gleaming. Even the buttons were free of fingerprints. Jazz punched the button, rubbing her finger around a little to smudge it. "So you grew the stache because it reminds you of the book and Danisha? "

"Oh no. That's a much nicer explanation. I grew the stache because my second-grade art teacher was the worst. She asked us to draw self portraits and I gave mine a mustache. She didn't like that and told me to erase it, then gave me detention when I refused?—"

"You were seven!" Jazz interjected, incensed on seven-year-old Liam's behalf.

"It was a tough school, and Ms. Bellion was super strict. She said it wasn't realistic and people didn't have mustaches without beards anyway. Which, what the fuck? But I never forgot and I grew this as soon as I could."

"So you're telling me you still have the stache because someone told you you couldn't thirty years ago and you never let it go?"

The elevator doors slid smoothly open and Liam tugged her in behind him. "Yep."

Jazz shook her head in disbelief. "Holy shit. That is the pettiest thing I've ever heard. I think I might be in love with you," she joked and Liam turned so he was facing her, a serious expression on his face.

"Thank God. I don't think we can get the deposits back for our Hallowedding at this point." A laugh bubbled out of Jazz's mouth and Liam joined her.

Mirrors lined the walls of the elevator, creating an infinity effect. Jazz's laugh caught in her throat as she looked up, seeing Liam's head thrown back, a grin on his face as he laughed. God, he really was beautiful.

"What?" he asked as he noticed her staring at her.

Jazz's gaze dropped to their hands, held comfortably between them. Liam rubbed his thumb absentmindedly over her skin, and she sucked in a deep breath, holding it and trailing her eyes up his arms, his torso, his full lips, his fucking mustache. His eyes. He knew exactly what she was thinking; he was just waiting for her to say it.

She blew out the breath and tugged him closer. It had been inevitable since the second she agreed to come with him. "Fuck it."

He wasted no time closing in on Jasmine, his hand slamming against the mirrored wall, fingers dragging down and leaving smudge marks behind. Her lips had been calling to him all day, and one kiss in a room full of people wasn't nearly enough to satiate him. He'd been doing a good job of holding it together, of pretending his brain wasn't cycling through bad ideas on repeat. But then she'd called him baby. Baby . Her voice had been just a little breathy, and every last thread of his resolve had snapped.

Liam leaned in, their noses bumping against each other. He trailed his tongue over her lips and her mouth parted in invitation. "Delicious."

Jasmine whimpered, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He was still holding her hand, unable to bring himself to drop it yet, but he drew his other hand down her body and cupped her lower back, pulling her body into his.

"Liam," she pled, the word vibrating through him, straight to his cock. Fuck. She was gorgeous.

He nipped her bottom lip, letting his hand drop lower, his thumb brushing the perfect curve of her ass. She'd been haunting his dreams since their first night together; the memories were foggy, and his brain couldn't possibly do her justice, filling in the gaps. He needed to get his hands on her bare skin again, needed to feel her legs around him.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open just as he brushed her lips over hers in a ghost of a kiss. They were both trembling as they walked through the hallway, stopping outside their room. Liam swiped the keycard impatiently and pulled Jasmine inside, tossing the card aside and pushing her against the door.

She gripped his face, done with his teasing, and captured his mouth in a torturous kiss. The heavenly taste of her flooded his tongue like pure sugar. They'd only had one glass of Champagne each, but he could taste it—deep, bubbly, and sweet, just like Jasmine herself.

Liam's cock strained against his pants as she grabbed his jacket. He didn't have time to breathe before it was on the floor, her fingers working his shirt buttons clumsily. When he tried to help, she pushed his hands away, groaning as she finally unbuttoned the shirt and her fingers made contact with his bare chest.

She was a tornado, her nails roaming over his chest, then scratching down his back. Liam cursed against her mouth, pulling her backward. He almost stumbled over his dress pants as Jasmine pushed them down his thighs, like she couldn't wait a second longer to get him undressed. Far be it from him to deny her. He kicked them away, followed by his boxers, a second before the back of his legs hit the bed.

Jasmine pushed him down into a sitting position, lifting her dress and straddling his hips. She gasped as his cock brushed against her underwear, breaking their kiss for the first time to look between them. Her pupils swallowed the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes.

"Fuck." In one word, the air was sucked from the room, like all of his senses were dulled to everything and anything that wasn't Jasmine. She bent her mouth to his neck, trailing kisses across his skin, dragging her teeth over his jaw, and lavishing kisses across his collarbone.

She shifted back, her dress riding up further so the mesh panel exposed her underwear, deep purple lace with a band of pink, purple, and green wildflowers. He licked his lips, trailing a finger over the mesh, and Jasmine's head fell back. There was something beautifully erotic about her being fully dressed, exposed by floral mesh, while his cock begged for her. He lifted the edges of her dress so he could grasp and squeeze her ass, before rolling her hips so her pussy slid over his cock, the lace soft but torturous.

A whimper fell from her lips and he wanted to taste it, needed to feel her mouth on his or he was going to snap, push the violet fabric aside and press his cock into her without thinking twice. He tilted his head up, brushing kisses across her jaw until she raised her head and her lips met his like magnets. Her thighs squeezed him, and Liam gasped, his fingers digging into her ass as he moved her over his cock. Soft sounds poured from Jasmine, captured by his tongue as he kissed her fiercely.

Fuck, he was going to come before he'd even got her out of her dress if he wasn't careful. It took every ounce of his self control to still. Jasmine opened her mouth, to protest no doubt, but it died on her tongue when his fingers found the hidden zip at the back of her dress. The black satin felt like sandpaper compared to Jasmine's soft skin as he pulled the zip down.

The thin straps holding the dress up tied in the back like laces. Liam forced his lungs to breathe slow, measured breaths as he wound the fabric around his finger and tugged. The straps fell away as the laces came undone, the dress slipping down Jasmine's body and pooling around her waist. But with the patience of a goddamn saint, Liam kept his eyes trained on hers as he lifted it over her head, as he smoothed her mussed-up hair.

Then, finally, he let his gaze fall over Jasmine's incredible body. Fuck, his drunk memories had nothing on the real thing. She was breathtaking. Freckles dotted her pale skin, and a large tattoo was splashed across her ribs, curving around her belly in a burst of color. Flowers: watercolor roses, carnations, and morning glories in various shades of turquoise and purple.

"These are gorgeous. "

"They're birth flowers," Jasmine replied, breathy. "Maggie's, and my brother and sister's."

Her stomach, thighs, and breasts were lined with stretch marks just begging for him to run his tongue across them, playing connect the dots. He ran a finger over the curve of her belly and she tensed.

"Liam—"

"Give me a second, darling. I'm committing every perfect inch of you to memory." She was a work of art he could stare at for hours, absorbing every little detail. Liam had visited dozens of galleries, seen thousands of paintings, and Jasmine was a million times more beautiful than any of them.

She sucked in a breath, and he drew his gaze slowly up her body. How lucky he was to have his eyes on her.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, when he looked up at her. Liam ran his finger over the point of her chin.

"I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," she said softly, her voice thick. She seemed to hear it and gave herself a little shake, clearing her throat before adding, "And that's saying a lot, because you know that old British guy who does the weather on the morning news?"

Liam blinked at the random subject change. "The one with the toupee?"

"Exactly!" Jasmine bounced on his lap, clapping her hands together. Liam sucked in a breath, trying in vain to hold her still. "Well, I ran into him when I was getting a bagel at the airport once and he told me I had, quote, banging tits ." She put on what might have been the world's worst English accent, and Liam couldn't hold his snort in.

They shook with laughter, clinging to each other for dear life. "Shitty toupees aside," Liam managed between laughs, "he wasn't wrong. You do have banging tits ." His English accent was just as bad, but Jasmine's laughter died in her throat as he leaned in, mapping the edge of her bra with his tongue. She loosened her grip on his shoulders, reaching behind her back to unclip the bra and, as soon as he felt the silky fabric go slack, Liam wrenched it away with his teeth.

"Holy shit," he murmured, his eyes wide. "Are these new? I don't remember these." How the hell hadn't he noticed her nipple piercings through the fabric?

He had his mouth on her before she could answer, a moan spilling from her lips before she spoke. "No, but you were really drunk last time. I got them pierced years ago at the same time as Maggie, when?—"

"Please don't talk about Maggie when your nipple is in my mouth," Liam said, but he wasn't willing to pull his mouth away long enough for the words to be anything more than a garbled mess. Jasmine seemed to get the message though, because she said nothing more, just whimpered as he tugged the gold bar with his teeth. He rolled the other between his thumb and finger, Jasmine writhing in his lap.

Every brush of her pussy over his cock felt better than the last. He needed to feel her bare.

He gripped Jasmine's ass as he stood just enough to turn and sit her on the edge of the bed, kneeling before her. She braced herself on her elbows, looking down at him through long, fluttering lashes, as he hooked his thumbs in the thin purple strings holding her underwear up. He tugged them down slowly, Jasmine lifting herself to help him. Tossing them aside, he finally turned, pushed her thighs apart and got his eyes on her.

And his brain damn near short circuited.

" That one is new," Jasmine said, her voice breathy. "I got it as an Easter treat for myself."

Liam eyed the gold bar through her clit and fought the urge to bury his mouth against her. "Christ."

"Exactly. 'Tis the damn season," she agreed, and he raised a brow, forcing himself to look away from her piercing and meet her gaze.

"Jasmine."

"Hmm?"

"I don't think I can wait for our Hallowedding to marry you. You're too perfect."

She laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that felt like a hot cup of tea or a warm hug after a shitty day, then raised her left leg and hooked it around his shoulder. "Prove it, baby," she whispered, and she didn't need to ask twice.

Liam cursed her name, leaning in and dragging his tongue over her clit, the metal bar surprisingly cool. He pushed her thighs open further, his fingers digging into her skin. Jasmine's elbows gave way, a gasp escaping her as her body fell back against the bed. Liam couldn't get near enough, couldn't consume her enough. None of it came close to how much she'd consumed him for so many years.

He teased her pussy with two fingers, and Jasmine groaned.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes. Fuck , yes."

There it was. Liam pressed two fingers inside her and curled them until she cried out. She was so fucking wet, clenching around him. He fucked her with his fingers, licking her clit and toying with her piercing. They'd eaten a five course meal that cost more than a week of Liam's wages, had top shelf champagne and profiteroles with literal gold leaf, and none of it tasted even a fraction as good as she did, sweet and rich on his tongue.

She sank her hands into his hair. "Liam," she gasped. "I need your cock inside me now, fuck ."

Liam sank his teeth gently into her clit, and Jasmine sobbed, her body twisting on the edge of the bed. He stood up, her legs dropping to the floor with a gentle thud.

"Up the bed, darling."

She shuffled back, her whole body flushed scarlet. Liam plucked his wallet from the pocket of his pants on the floor and pulled out the condom he'd tucked away. He crawled up the bed, positioning himself between her open thighs.

Jasmine snagged the condom from his fingers, tearing open the packet and wrapping her fist around his cock, swiping her thumb through the pre-cum glistening at the tip. She brought her thumb to her mouth, her tongue darting out to lick her lips before she wrapped them around her thumb and licked it clean.

Liam's body shook with restraint, and she took pity on him, her eyes twinkling as she rolled the condom over his cock. He fisted himself, running his tip all over her, his eyes squeezing shut as it brushed the metal bar and Jasmine cried his name. She dropped her head onto the pillow, her red hair fanning around her like flames.

"Please," she begged, and Liam took a steadying breath. He leaned in to kiss her until they were both gasping for air, then pushed inside her with their foreheads pressed together.

Fucking hell . Her pussy drew him in, squeezing him so tightly he wasn't entirely confident in his ability to last all of thirty seconds. And he wasn't even fully inside her yet. Jesus.

Jasmine pulled her lower lip between her teeth and Liam nudged her nose with his.

"Are you okay?"

"I… I, um…"

"Jasmine, darling. Talk to me," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Do you need me to stop?"

"Absolutely fucking not," she choked out. She gripped his bicep, her fingers shaking. "You feel so good. More , please."

Liam twined his fingers with hers, holding her hand against the pillow, and gritted his teeth as he pushed fully inside her, a shuddering breath falling from his mouth as he bottomed out .

"Oh shit," Jasmine moaned, squeezing his hand in a death grip.

Liam counted as he pulled out, one, two, three , then pushed back into her, making sure she was comfortable. But Jasmine had other ideas, looping her leg around him and pushing impatiently.

"Message received, darling," he chuckled against her lips. He grabbed her other hand, holding it down against the pillow on the other side of her head, taking care to avoid her hair. "If you need to stop, tell me, okay?"

"I swear to God if you don't fuck me soon I— oh ."

Liam couldn't stop a grin from splitting his face as her back bowed, her legs wrapping tightly around him as he fucked her. He used the bounce of the mattress to propel himself, hitting her deeply. Her legs trembled around him, and if he wasn't holding her hands down, he could tell she'd be raking her nails down his back.

Her pussy clenched around him, the sounds falling from her lips increasing in volume and decreasing in coherency. Fuck , she was close. Thank God. How was it possible for her to feel so fucking good?

He dragged his lips over her jaw, drawing her lip between his teeth and biting down until she was cursing into his mouth.

"You feel goddamn incredible, Jasmine," he panted and her eyes snapped to his, golden flames sparkling in her hazel irises.

And then, in a split second, she blinked, and they were gone. She slammed her eyes closed, turned her head to the side, and… faked it? She clenched around him, ev ery spasm of her pussy perfectly measured, every cry intentional.

Absolutely not. Not on his watch.

Liam stilled and loosened his grip on her hands, but didn't let go, even when the pins and needles set in. Shit, he hadn't realized quite how tightly he was holding her.

He watched her take a deep breath before opening her eyes and turning back to face him.

"Hey," he said, searching her face for signs of discomfort. There was something there, an edge in her eyes. Frustration? Liam couldn't quite place it. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

She flexed her hands, and he begrudgingly released her, sitting back so he was kneeling. "What? No, why would you have hurt me?"

"Because you faked it."