She slid her bare legs against the smooth fabric of his trousers, his knee pressing hard between her thighs. His fingers stroked her neck, her collarbone as his mouth dipped to her breasts. His tongue was hot and velvety, teasing her taut nipples until it was almost unbearable, her hands raking through his hair with desperation. She rocked her hips against him, the desire and lust in her building to a frenzy of breathless moans as she tore at the button on his pants. Gently, he guided her hands until his trousers were unfastened and on the floor with her dress.
She ran her hands along the muscular swell of his ass and bit down on his lip with arousal. The handful of hard, powerful muscle made the idea of his thrusts within her so real that she shuddered. Now, and more, she whispered as he hooked his fingers inside her panties, dragged them down her long legs and stripped them away.
“Cates, quit playing with me,” she said, her voice husky.
“So would you say this is in the plus column or the negative one,” he teased.
She dug her nails into his bare shoulders and groaned with a mix of desire and frustration as his fingers pressed between her legs.
“You. Know. What. I. Want. Now give it to me,” she demanded, pushing her hips against his hand, pumping against him, wanting her release.
“It’s our wedding night, precious, I thought you’d want me to be gentle and go slow,” he said.
“Dammit, Cates,” she ground out.
Marj ran her hands through his dark hair and kissed him full on the mouth, letting him feel her desire, her frantic need for him. And it was, she knew as clearly as anything in her blurry, drunken haze, him that she needed. Not release, not a man or a particular stroke, but Brandon Cates specifically. He kissed her back with equal passion, the strokes of his tongue deep and persuasive. He rubbed her nipples, trailed a hand down her stomach and back to the sensitive spot at the juncture of her legs.
Brandon pressed first one finger, then two inside of her and she bucked under him as explosive waves of pleasure ripped through her body. She cried out, high pitched and long, as her climax took her. She clawed at his back as if trying to climb him, her legs writhing against his, her body twisting, wracked with helpless pleasure.
Breathing raggedly, Marj subsided, practically limp on the couch below him. He kissed her cheekbone, her forehead, her upper lip.
“Put that in the plus column,” she said breathlessly, and he laughed.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“I was hoping this wasn’t over,” she said.
Marj scooted out from under him and told him to sit up. He obeyed, and she straddled his lap seductively.
“Now put your hands behind your head. We’re doing honor system, no restraints, so you have to keep your word. No matter what I do, you don’t get to touch me. Deal?”
“Ugh, I don’t like this deal.”
“Deal?” she prompted.
“Fine, deal,” he said grudgingly.
Brandon leaned back against the cushions with his hands behind his head, appearing for all the world like he was completely relaxed. Except the powerful erection jutting out of his shorts told another story entirely. She had clear evidence that he was as aroused as she was. There was something about him, she thought again, that she just couldn’t resist. Her legs were still weak from what he’d done to her, her breathing shaky, but she braced a hand on his shoulder and started to lower herself over him.
“There’s a condom in my wallet,” he said.
“I’m your wife,” she protested.
“And, as such, it’s my duty to protect you. We’ll both be tested for STD’s and then you can do the Pill if you want or something but until then, I’m keeping us both safe,” he said seriously.
With an annoyed huff, she bent over and fished his wallet out of his pants.
“You may be the first woman to have no interest whatsoever in my wallet.”
“I’m special like that. Here.”
Marj handed him the condom, and he put it on.
“Just so you know, I have an IUD. I’m not going to try to trap you with a baby.”
“We’re married. The trapping part is sort of already accomplished for you.”
“Just for a year, Cates. Then we’re free again. And I don’t want the complications of custody and child support and visitation...” she sighed. This was without a doubt the least sexy pillow talk ever. It made her unaccountably sad. It brought home the fact that this was only a charade, that there could be no real marriage, no love, no babies. It was for the best, she told herself. She didn’t want to end up in a dead end loveless relationship like her parents, with her mom drinking herself into the grave just to cope with the unhappiness.