Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

I want to tear at the remaining bit of dress standing between me and my wife. My cock is begging to be free from the constraints of my black pants. It's a fickle thing to both want to make something last but hurry to the finish line at the same time.

I try to remind myself that Laurel isn't going anywhere. We live together now. She's my wife, and if this is what she wants every night, fuck, even every single day, then that's what I'll do. I could touch Laurel like this forever and never tire of it.

The way her body reacts. The way her hips rock into me and her head rests on my chest. She feels safe and protected. Cared for. And something in the way I caught her staring at me across the courtyard earlier, after our moment in the greenhouse, tells me she isn't used to being cared for.

For the first time since undoing her dress, I take a step away from Laurel. I let her breasts go, but not before giving her nipples a small pinch, causing her to yelp. I smirk, delighted in the sound coming from her throat.

I don't say another word when my hands make it to her hair. I pull a thousand bobby pins and clips from her dark brown strands. Each one allows another curl to cascade down her back.

A moan escapes Laurel's mouth.

"Now, I know I can be quite arrogant at times, Mrs. Harding." I laugh. "But I don't even think I can give you an orgasm by simply touching your hair."

She laughs, turning her head and looking up at me. Her indigo eyes widen under her long dark lashes, and I'm fucking done for. "Maybe not, but with the way you put your hands on me, you come pretty close."

My heart pounds beneath muscle and bone. I'm certain if we stayed quiet, the both of us could hear it. When she says things like that, I think about pinching myself just to be sure I've heard her correctly.

"Turn around," I order, my cock swelling.

She does as I say, and I drag my thumb down the length of her jaw before dropping to my knees in front of her.

I wrap my hands around the bunched silk fabric around her waist and pull it over her hips. With it pooled at her feet, she steps out.

Looking up at her, I nearly lose my breath. She's completely naked. Peaked nipples, smooth tan skin. Her stomach is in line with my face, but I keep my focus on her eyes.

She steps forward, running her fingers through my hair. My dark brown strands aren't as stiff as they were at the start of the wedding, most likely due to Laurel's hands and the wind caused by the helicopter.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" I ask her. I need to know before continuing. "Being with you like this wasn't part of our terms and conditions."

"I know." There's a distant look in her eyes, as if she's remembering the terms of our marriage, but it only lasts for a second before it's gone. Gripping the ends, she looks down at me with fire in her eyes. "I want your mouth on me."

She repeats the same words to me she said earlier. Wrapping both arms around her legs, I grab onto her ass, cupping each of her full cheeks in my palms. She gasps as she stumbles forward. Her stomach lands against my mouth, and I plant a kiss below her belly button, then over her sweet pussy.

I keep my left hand on her ass cheek and bring the other behind her knee. I lift her leg, bending it over my shoulder, exposing her to me.

Keeping my eyes pinned to hers, I stick my tongue out, sliding it between her wet slit.

She tugs on my hair again, crying out when I run the tip of my tongue to her swollen clit.

"Oh, fuck, Lennon," she cries. Her mouth falls open as she rocks her hips, pressing into me. "More," she begs. "I need more."

"Fuck, Laurel. You taste so fucking good." Her right leg bends slightly, letting me know she's already getting close.

I don't want to stop, knowing this is what Laurel wants. Release. But I don't think I can watch her have another orgasm without being inside her. I'm a greedy motherfucker.

Without warning, I drop her leg from my shoulder and stand. With her jaw dropped, she watches as I bend down, wrapping my arms around her legs, lifting her over my shoulder.

She yelps as I carry her toward the bathroom.

"Lennon!" She grips the back of my shirt for support.

Her bare ass is next to my face, and my arm is wrapped around her smooth legs. I run my left hand up and along the back of her thigh, stopping on her round pillowy cheek and giving it a squeeze. I slap her ass. She squeals and writhes against me.

"This isn't fair." She whines. "My entire body feels like it's going to explode with all your teasing."

I carry her through the doorway to our bathroom and don't let her down until we're standing in front of the large shower. She holds her breath and keeps her eyes on me as I reach behind her to turn the water on.

"I only thought it was appropriate I carry you over the threshold." I smirk. "Tradition and all…"

She holds her breath. I can tell when something I've done or said is unexpected. She inhales a sharp breath, and her body tenses. The look on her face tells me she's worried she's allowing herself to go too far with me too quickly—the same fears I felt earlier in the greenhouse—but I stop those thoughts as soon as they creep back in.

Laurel is my wife. I'm attracted to her. I have been for a long time. If it wasn't for her giving me the signal she's okay with it too, I'd have left her alone, agreeing to suffer sleeping on my stiff leather couch if that were the case. We wouldn't be standing here.

I empty my pockets, pulling out the lavender flower I'd rubbed against her in the greenhouse. Her eyes follow it as I turn to lay it on the marble sink.

"I thought you got rid of it."

"Absolutely not. This one is mine." I pick up the flower and bring it to my nose. Laurel's cheeks flush red. "I couldn't risk it blowing away at the reception or when we got in the helicopter."

A breath falls between her parted lips, and I lose all resolve. My eyes dance between hers and her pretty mouth.

Steam billows from the large, stone-walled shower beside us. I place my hands on either side of her face, pulling her mouth to mine.

She kisses me back, leaning into me on a moan.

I haven't kissed her since the greenhouse. I was afraid if I did, I wouldn't be able to stop. And I was right. I can't stop.

She opens her mouth, moaning once more. She swipes her tongue against mine. I walk her back into the shower until her body lands against the tiled wall. She shivers and prickles with goosebumps. I place my hands on either side of her head, caging her in.

She bites my bottom lip, tugging on it before pulling away. Her delicate hands work to unbutton my soaking wet shirt. She peels it off me, followed by unbuckling my belt.

Once she's removed my belt, pants, and boxer briefs, she stops. Her eyes roam over my chest, surveying every tattoo inked into my skin.

"I have a slight addiction," I say over the streaming water.

"Slight?" She pops an eyebrow and giggles. She stares at each one in fascination, dragging her fingers over them, tracing the various lines.

"Some have meaning, most don't." I hold my breath when she touches the one beneath my heart, hoping she doesn't see the one on my back. Not yet.

Her lips part as she silently reads the words on my chest, tracing them with her left hand. The bright lights of the bathroom shine against the large diamond on her finger.

"Take a sad song and make it better," I whisper.

Laurel looks up at me as droplets of water stream down her face.

The corner of my mouth curls, but my chest aches. The reason behind my tattoo sits on the tip of my tongue, but I hold back. I'm too focused on Laurel to dig deep into the parts of my soul I've refused to acknowledge for the past six years.

I want to tell her I haven't forgotten about our night together and I carry the proof with me on my skin as a reminder. Because for so long, I was convinced I'd never feel the way I felt that night.

My father made sure of it. Injected it into my bones.

But I've been determined not to forget. I want to open up to Laurel, but every time I've been given the opportunity, I freeze. The words get stuck in my messy, unorganized heart.

"It's from a Beatles song," I tell her, focusing back on the tattoo she's seen.

She accepts my answer without further interrogation, trailing her fingers down the center of my chest. She's moved on, desire sparking in her gaze. My cock has sprung to life, hard as a rock and begging to be inside Laurel.

"What do you want?" I tease.

Wrapping her hand around my length, she tugs on it, jerking me forward. I grunt, pressing my fingers into the wall.

"I want my husband to fuck me," she whispers, tilting her chin up. Her filthy words fall on her innocent voice.

"We can make that happen." I bend my knees slightly, grabbing onto the back of Laurel's knees. She inhales that familiar sharp breath again when she wraps her legs around me. I push her back against the wall. Her arms drape over my shoulders, and when I pull my hips back and slide my cock inside her, her nails cut into my flesh.

"Oh, my God." Her head tilts back against the tile. Black streaks of mascara and bits of shimmering glitter from her eyeshadow cover her cheeks, dripping down to her faded red lipstick. She's bared herself to me. Open, raw, and gorgeous.

Once I've slid my entire length inside her, we both remain still, allowing the feeling to settle between us.

"Fuck," I breathe out. "Your pussy feels fucking amazing, Mrs. Harding."

"I told you I've been wet for you all night," she pants, tightening her legs around my waist. "You weren't kidding when you said you wanted me begging for you."

"Right. Beg for it." I grunt, sliding myself out of her before pushing myself back in. I pump myself into her a few more times, watching as her face transforms with every thrust. I'm holding her up, pressed against the wall. She tilts her head back, exposing her neck to me. I press my mouth to her neck, licking her wet skin.

"Please, Lennon," she cries out, clawing at my chest.

"Please, what?"

"Faster," she moans. "Harder."

I do as she says. Being with Laurel now is different than the night we fucked in my car. Not because it's been six years, but because this time I haven't been drinking. I'm completely fucking sober. My mind is clear and focused. And now, being inside Laurel is even better than I remember.

I wrap one hand under the bottom of her leg, holding her up. I drive my cock into her again and try my best not to slam her body too hard against the stone tile. The full curve of her body fills my hand. Her full breasts are pushed against my inked chest. She's soft and supple, wet and smooth. I thrust in and out of her, and the faster and harder I move, the tighter she gets.

"Fuck, Mrs. Harding." I grunt. "I'm about to come, so you'd better come with me."

"Why?" she asks, rolling her hips off the wall. "You watched me come without you in the greenhouse. Don't you think it's my turn to have the privilege of watching you come undone beneath me."

"Fuck that." She yelps when I slip myself out of her. Her feet fall to the floor. I quickly plant a kiss on her swollen mouth before gripping her hip and spinning her around.

She places her hands above her head, against the wall, breathing heavily in anticipation. Reaching up, I grab the shower head, adjust the settings to the one I want, and bring it to her front. Her head is dipped low, but when I press the pulsating jet of water to her clit, she lifts her head and gasps.

"Oh, my God, Lennon," she breathes.

Pulling her hips back, I find her entrance, driving my cock into her from the back. Pushing against the wall, she presses her hips into me, taking my full length as I continue to work her clit from the front.

The air in the shower grows cold. The chill creeps along our skin as I keep the stream of water pressed against Laurel's swollen clit. All the blood rushes to my cock.

I've spent so much time teasing and playing with Laurel, I didn't realize I was also doing the same to myself. I lean forward, keeping the showerhead in front of her and rocking my hips.

"Are you close to coming?" I growl.

"Is that a real question?" she softly whimpers, unable to stay still. She's writhing under me. "I've been close to slipping over the edge this whole time."

"Then, do it, Mrs. Harding," I tell her, pressing my lips to her back. "I want to watch you quivering from my cock. I want to watch you take me as my cum spills inside you."

I press the entire showerhead harder against her and move my hips quicker. I look down, watching as I slide into her thrust for thrust. A beautiful sight I want to remember.

"Lennon, I'm coming." My name falling from her open mouth pushes me to my limit. Her pussy contracts around me as she reaches her climax, screaming out my name.

Blood rushes to the base of my cock and I groan as I come inside her. The showerhead drops at my feet, spinning and spraying water against the far wall. But we don't care. Feeling me reach my orgasm, she rolls her hips against me. I run my hand along the length of her back, admiring the shape of her. I catch my breath as she straightens herself and looks over her shoulder.

With satiated eyes, she gives me a small smile.

I place a gentle kiss on her cheek and slip out of her, then pick up the showerhead and set it back on the holder.

"I'm going to be sore tomorrow," she says, resting her back against the wall. She's leaning against it, looking up at me. I step toward her and reach beside me, grabbing the purple pouf I only assume to be hers since I've never seen it before. Ray must have put it in here when he was unpacking Laurel's bag.

"Don't worry." I squeeze a dollop of body wash onto the pouf and massage it until bubbles form. I lower the pouf between Laurel's legs, gently rubbing it over her center. "I'm your husband now. I'll make sure you're taken care of. But I can't say I'm not pleased knowing the effect I have on you, Laurel."

With her half-hooded, indigo eyes staring up at me, she stands on her toes and kisses me on the lips. "You have no idea the effect you have on me, Lennon."