14. Fourteen

Fourteen

I 'm woken up by the sound of the front door slamming, and I'm glad to see the glorious July sunshine pouring through the windows. Thankfully, the weather is sticking to the reports, and it's going to be hot and sunny, as predicted, for Lucy and Mark's special day.

I twist my head and look at the bedside clock. Ten past nine.

Shit.

I need to get up, get my things, and head over to the hotel. If I'm late, Lucy will kill me. Even though she seemed totally preoccupied the other day, I know she still won't tolerate her maid of honour being late on her special day.

"My sleeping beauty's still in bed, I see." Art props himself against the doorframe, wearing black running shorts and a white T-shirt.

He's far too perky in the morning, and it's annoying.

"Thanks for waking me, you shit. You know I need to get to the hotel," I grumble, shoving my head back into the pillow. "Argh, leave me alone," I moan as the covers are thrown off me.

The mattress dips beneath his weight, and soft lips brush my neck. "Are you sure about that?"

His warm breath against my skin makes me tingle all over, and I shudder as he plants a line of light kisses down the length of my spine and across my buttocks. His hands are on my hips, and I'm flipped over onto my back. He's on his hands and knees above me with a glint in his eye, and I know the last thing on his mind is getting ready to leave.

I'm going to be late.

"Maybe I can change your mind."

His eyes lock with mine as he moves backwards and goes down on me, his lips causing a shiver of delight to erupt between my thighs. I whimper beneath his tongue, shutting my eyes tight and twisting my fingers through his hair that's damp with sweat. Now, I'm well and truly awake.

Any thoughts about fighting him off vanish as his tongue circles my clit, and every nerve in my body wants more.

"Do you want me to leave you alone, Sophie?"

I open my eyes. He's looking up at me from between my thighs, a wicked smile on his face. I never want him to leave me alone. I draw in a deep breath and shake my head.

He locks eyes on me again as he sucks my swollen clitoris and groans in delight. I screw my eyes shut and cry out as the vibration causes muscles to throb deep inside me. It's too much. The way he's so good at this, the way he gets pleasure from it. Hot breath against my hypersensitive clit stokes the desire burning inside me.

"I might have this for breakfast every day from now on."

Fucking hell.

Then, as if teasing me, he stops, and I feel the mattress shift beneath his weight. My disappointment is short-lived as I open my eyes to be greeted by the sight of him peeling his clothes off. He stands – tall, proud, and glorious – and I can't take my eyes off him. Every inch of his naked, muscular, golden body is beautiful.

"I'm going to take you," he warns, tossing his T-shirt over his shoulder. "Hard."

My heart leaps in my chest. Before I know it, he crawls back up the bed. His hands are on my hips, and I'm flipped back over onto my front. I cry out in surprise at the glorious feel of his hot tongue gliding up my spine, all the way to the base of my neck and close my eyes. I feel the mattress dip as he positions himself over me, resting his hands into the pillow on either side of my head to steady himself.

I shudder beneath him as he presses his lips against the soft skin on my neck.

"I want to cuff you to the bed."

I open my eyes.

He reaches a hand into his bedside drawer and pulls out a set of shiny metal handcuffs.

There's no wriggle room in those bad boys. Until now, he's only used his hands or neck ties to restrain me.

His fingertips dance along my spine. "I'd like it if you tried them. But as always, Sophie, if you're uncomfortable with the idea, we won't."

I briefly close my eyes. The coil of desire in my centre tightens at the thought of what he's about to do to me. Maybe he is a bad influence on me.

I nod. "Okay."

He plants a hot kiss on the base of my neck. "Thank you. Give me your hands."

I lift my hands up. Cold, hard metal clamps around my right wrist as he secures the cuff through the wooden slats of the headboard. Once my hand is in place, he repeats the same action with the left.

"I want my hands free to touch your beautiful body."

He nips my earlobe, and I draw in a shaky breath at what's about to come.

"Open your legs."

I do as I'm told and shuffle them apart.

"Wider."

I open them a little more.

He moves down the bed. He grips my knees and pushes my legs open, as wide as they'll go.

"I said, wider."

Fuck!

I feel a stab of self-consciousness and close my eyes. God knows what I look like. Completely naked and on show like this.

"Beautiful." He strokes his hands across my buttocks, brushing my awkwardness away with his touch. "You have no idea what you do to me."

I thought I did. Maybe I don't. Maybe that's something else I don't really know about him. But I don't have the opportunity to dwell on it.

His knees brush against my thighs as he positions his hands on either side of my head once more and drives into me without warning.

My mind spins as I cry out in surprise. We have such a dangerously intoxicating effect on one another; I've never known anything like it. I hope he hasn't either.

I can barely move. All I can do is hold on.

"I love fucking you," he pants, hammering into me.

It's hard, fast, unapologetic, and leaving me breathless, but I want more. Hearing that he loves what he's doing is wonderful, but I want every fibre of him to love me, like I do him. And I want to hear him say it more than anything.

Tell me you love me.

I mentally will him to say the words I want to hear. His breathing changes to quick, short pants – the way it always does when he fights to keep control – as he continues to pound into me, pushing me skywards.

He must love me.

But he hasn't told me.

He must.

Mustn't he?

Tell me you love me.

I feel him tense around me, and I open my eyes. He bunches the bed sheets in between his fingers as his cock jerks inside me.

"Fucking hell, you feel divine."

So does he.

He lowers himself down onto his forearms, his chest against my back. He snakes a hand around my hip bone and strokes his fingers across my clit, matching every stroke with a thrust. Hot lips press against the side of my mouth, stifling my groans. Only he can make me feel like this, and I want to be the only person in the world who makes him feel the way he does right this second. He's consuming every single inch of me. And I love it. Just as much as I love him.

Tell me you love me.

He pushes me further and further into mind-spinning oblivion with his hard thrusts until the raging fire in my core overtakes me.

"I love you." The words I long to hear fall from my own lips as I come undone beneath him, spiralling into darkness, yanking down on the cuffs until they dig into my wrists.

I'm not sure whether it's what I said or my climax, but he comes, every muscle in his body tensing as he releases inside me with a roar.

After a few moments, he reaches forwards and carefully unfastens the cuffs, and then he lies back down on me, clearly not wanting to move. The feel of him inside me and the weight of his warm body pinning me down aren't nearly enough to squash my disappointment at the fact that he still hasn't said those three little words.

"How did you find the cuffs?" His words pull me back into the moment. He presses a kiss to my cheek. "Were they okay?"

I smile. They were more than okay. "Yes, they didn't hurt."

"I'm glad. Thank you for trying them." He kisses my neck. "Are you sure you need to go to this wedding?"

Part of me thinks he's only half-joking.

"It's sort of compulsory."

"I'd love to have you to myself all day."

There's that L-word again.

My body tingles at his words, but I quickly rein myself in. He's already made me late; I can't allow him to do it again.

"Sorry to disappoint, but today, I'm Lucy's."

He lowers his lips to mine, and I twist my head to meet his mouth. He kisses me deeply for an age, leaving me breathless and dizzy.

"No, you're not. You're mine." He tilts his hips, forcing his cock deep inside me. I gasp. "Always. She's just borrowing you."

If I'm his, why hasn't he told me he loves me?

I push the thought aside and focus. I've more pressing issues right now. Like I'm running late for my best friend's wedding.

"At this rate, she'll be killing me."

Art growls in disapproval at the fact that we've got to move and buries his face into my neck.

"We need to shower and get going. Lucy's going to do her nut."