Chapter 13

Wick’s handon my hip tightened as his lips slanted over mine in a claiming kiss. He licked into my mouth, his tongue thrusting and writhing against my own until I was whimpering and panting.

And hot.

So freaking hot.

With a tiny growl, I knocked his hands away and scrambled up to straddle his lap before winding my arms around his neck. I felt his smirk as I kissed him, my fingers spearing into his hair as I pressed my chest against his.

The sum of my sexual experience was pretty much wrapped up in my wedding night, but then I’d felt unsure and nervous. I had no clue what I was doing, and I’d let Wick take the lead.

I still had no idea exactly what my plan for seduction was, but I was letting instinct guide my actions as I ground my center against the prominent ridge in his pants.

“Fuck, Sia,” he hissed, sucking in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. The tendons on his neck stood out as his palms wrapped around my hips, his fingers squeezing my ass.

I giggled. “That’s kinda what I was hoping for.”

His eyes went wide, then filled with a dark hunger that had a flood of arousal destroying my panties. If it were possible to be set on fire from a single glance, I would’ve been a pile of ash.

“You’re sure?” One of Wick’s hands slid up my spine before gripping the back of my neck. The hold was possessive, and I could feel him tremble like he was barely able to hold back.

I melted a little. Even now, he was making sure this was what I wanted. “Yes.” I arched a brow. “Unless you don’t want me?—”

Wick rolled us, flipping me onto my back and wedging his hips between my legs before I could get the end of the sentence out. I laughed, amused at his urgency, until his mouth pressed to mine again. My giggle melted into a moan as he rolled his hips, grinding against me.

His mouth trailed a line of wet, open-mouthed kisses across my jaw and down my throat until he was blocked by the material of my hoodie. Grabbing it from the bottom, we both yanked it and my shirt off at the same time. The clothes went flying as Wick’s weight lowered back onto me, pressing me into the cushions as his teeth gently teased my nipple through the simple cotton bra.

I arched into his touch, letting out a breathy sigh as his fingers plucked at my other nipple, twisting and tugging it into a tight peak. I squirmed beneath him, aching and needing more.

Wick looked up at me, his dark eyes deep pools of onyx I could get lost in. His hand slid across my ribs down my body to cup the front of my leggings, the heel of his palm pressing against my throbbing clit.

“There,” I whispered, my hips bucking from the friction.

Wick let out a warm chuckle, the sound as thick and decadent as maple syrup. “You want me to touch this greedy little pussy, baby?”

I nodded.

He made a soft humming noise. “Just touch it? Should I fuck you with my fingers while I suck on your clit until you’re screaming my name?”

“Yes,” I panted, my chest heaving.

“Beg for me, baby,” he murmured, barely touching my core now. He dragged a feather-light finger up and down the inner seam of my leggings, and I knew the cotton had to be damp. No way were my panties up for the task of containing just how badly I wanted this man.

My husband.

“Please, Wick,” I whimpered. “Please touch me.”

“Touch you where?” His grin was wicked as he tried to coax the words from me.

I knew my cheeks were on fire, the dirty words feeling embarrassingly intimate. “My…” My mouth went dry, and I had to swallow my timidness and embrace what Wick was offering.

He waited patiently, his hand now still where it rested between my legs.

I licked my lips and sucked in a ragged breath. “Please touch my pussy. Make me come for you. Make me yours.”

“Oh, Sia,” he rasped, “you’ve always been mine.”

His hands made quick work of my leggings, tugging my ruined underwear down with the cotton before tossing it away. He moved down my body, his eyes focused on mine as he pressed an almost chaste kiss against my bare pussy.

“Take those tits out and play with yourself,” he commanded, waiting until I’d awkwardly yanked the cups of my bra down and covered the mounds with my hands.

“Fuck, yes, baby,” he groaned, running his nose up the length of my slit and inhaling. “You smell so fucking perfect.”

I rolled my nipples between my fingers as he sank two fingers inside my pussy. My head fell back as I felt the slight stretch of his intrusion. The feeling was still foreign, but now that I knew about the pleasure waiting for me at the end of the rainbow, I loved every second of it.

He curled his fingers as his lips latched around the bud of my clit. He sucked me into his mouth with greedy pulls, groaning as he swallowed my flavor like I was his favorite dessert. His fingers thrust in and out, occasionally pausing to curl and rub against that magical part that sent sparks dancing across my vision.

“Wick,” I chanted his name, making it a cry, a plea, a freaking prayer. “Wick, yes. There. Oh, god.”

“Come for me, baby.” He looked up at me. “Come all over my face like a good girl, and I’ll let you have my cock.”

A third finger pushed into me as his teeth nipped at my clit before suckling it again.

For a second, everything was suspended. Like teetering at the top of a rollercoaster, waiting for the impending fall. The crash into oblivion.

And then I was coming, waves of pleasure pounding into me as Wick wrung wave after wave from me. Until my throat was raw from screaming his name and my body was a boneless, twitching mess that he was gently licking clean.

My fingers relaxed from the deathgrip I had on his hair. “Wick.”

He kissed the inside of my thigh. “I know, baby.”

Two weeks with this man, and I understood now how he saw our futures laid out. I could see it, too—our marriage, our kids, grandkids, making memories, and sharing our lives.

I wanted it all, and, for the first time in my life, I’d met the person who could give me the world.

“I love you, Sia,” he whispered, surprising us both.

But the words felt right as they lodged in an empty corner of my heart, lighting it up and chasing away the shadows of my past.

Maybe it was like he’d said—reckless and obsessive—but all the little ways he’d taken care of me left me sure this man was my future. My everything.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, too,” I admitted, knowing love was such a small word to convey so many big emotions.

Wick rolled off my body, getting to his feet before grabbing me into his arms and stalking through the apartment until he was kicking open the door of his bedroom.

“I’ve dreamed about you in my bed since that party,” he confessed, lowering me to the mattress and standing back to study me like I was his own personal work of art.

When his hands reached for the front of his pants, need surged in my veins. I watched him strip with rapt attention, knowing I wouldn’t look away if a purple elephant on a unicycle rolled through the room juggling baby geese.

Wick’s allure was that powerful.

All those books I’d read about insta-love and love at first sight had always seemed like fairy tales. But perhaps there was a little nugget of truth buried under the myth.

Maybe love wasn’t something that could be calculated through time. Maybe love was just love, and that was enough.

I wasn’t sure I knew what love felt like, but I knew what I felt for Wick defied reason and logic. I knew I would never get tired of watching the man in front of me bare himself—physically or emotionally.

Shoving away the tight boxer briefs that just molded to his length, his cock bobbed free. He fisted the base in his hand, dark eyes glittering and hooded as he gave himself a few strokes. “Fuck, what you do to me, baby.”

“Yeah?” I barely recognized my breathy tone.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, crawling over my body and fitting himself between my splayed thighs like we’d been made for one another. Balancing his weight on a forearm, he swiped a finger up my slit, gathering slick moisture that he pressed to my lips. “Taste how fucking perfect you are.”

I parted my mouth, tentatively tasting myself on his finger. I bit the tip of his finger, and he jerked back with a smirk. He tapped the tip of my nose before brushing a sweet kiss across my lips. “Little minx.”

I whimpered into his mouth as he kissed me, all the while feeling the heavy weight of his cock between my legs. I rocked my hips, coating his length in my arousal, but it wasn’t enough.

“Need something?” Wick’s tone was teasing as he peppered kisses across my chest, my neck, my face.

“Yes,” I huffed.

His teeth grazed my jaw. “Feel free to tell me—in detail—about your needs.”

“You mean you don’t have a list of my needs in your research?” I teased back, biting back a smile.

He lifted his head, then cocked it. “Fair enough.”

I was about to giggle when he thrust into me. My breath left my lungs in a dizzying whoosh as I felt him stretch me to the limit.

“How are those needs now, baby?” He pulled out to the tip before plunging back in.

My inner muscles fluttered around him, my nerves pinging like a bag of pop rocks being dumped in soda. I gripped his shoulders, breathless and feeling a familiar tightness coiling low in my belly.

“Fuck,” I whispered as he pounded into me, his hips setting a brutal pace that threatened to have me shattering into tiny fragments of utter bliss.

“That’s my girl,” Wick rumbled, a talented finger rubbing the side of my clit. “So fucking tight. My perfect girl. My wife.”

I toppled over the edge with a hoarse cry, expecting Wick to fall with me.

But he didn’t.

He rode me through my orgasm until it started anew, this time sharper. Like teetering on the edge of a razor. Words ceased to have meaning as my brain was saturated with endorphins.

Wick pressed his lips against my ear. “Be my good girl and come for me again, wife.” He pinched the bundle of nerves, and I flew, screaming his name.

His hips pumped into me twice before he came with a roar of his own, jerking inside of me as he filled me with his hot release.

Collapsing on top of me, Wick pressed a kiss to my shoulder. His weight was delicious, pressing me into the mattress. All too soon, he rolled onto his side, slipping from the mess between my legs.

“Sorry,” he murmured, pushing up to one elbow with a wry grin. “Didn’t mean to smother you.”

“I didn’t mind,” I admitted, turning onto my side to face him.

His gaze held mine, neither of us speaking as we took our time basking in the afterglow.

Wick pushed my hair off my shoulder, then stroked down my arm in a gentle caress. It was like he couldn’t stop touching me. Couldn’t stop watching me.

And I found that I rather liked the idea of Warwick Forrester looking at me, touching me, for the rest of our lives.