While I sit on Miles’ lap, half-clothed, coming down from my orgasm, all these thoughts start to intrude. Playing “Dream Wedding” with my childhood friends, growing up. Memories of all the stupid checklists I’d made to ensure this event was the wedding of the century. All the millions of bridal magazine photos I went through to get everything perfect.
Things on the wedding front are pretty much in the crapper, right now.
But I’m still holding Miles tight, trying to ward out those thoughts and hold on to this last bit of bliss.
“Lia…”
I refuse to let reality leak in. Not now. “No. Don’t.”
“Then, what? What are we going to do? We have to talk about it.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to hear this. “No. We don’t.”
“Really?”
I can’t even force my brain to start working right now. I want to just stay in this little bubble of bliss with him. “When the fuck did you become Barbara Walters?” I snarl.
I slide off his knees, grabbing my t-shirt from the ground as I hurry to the bathroom to clean up.
I don’t expect him to be right on my heels, but he is.
He grabs my wrist. “Lia. Come on.”
“No!” I swat him away. “Just— Please.”
He grabs me in his arms, and I struggle so much that I end up pressed with my cheek against the wall. He pushes my hair aside and sinks his teeth into my neck. His kisses trail warm and wet down my neck and shoulder. “Fuck, Lia. I want you. I want you so much I can’t think straight.”
I drop the shirt.
His hands slip down my sides and lower my leggings and panties to my knees with one swoop. He cups my ass, molding it, kissing it, licking it, slapping it. “Fuck. Your ass is perfect. Anyone ever tell you that?” He sounds so aroused his voice is thick and raspy like sandpaper.
I almost laugh. No, no one had told me, not even Aaron. Finally all those months of PiYo are being rewarded.
Tugging off my leggings and panties, Miles comes to his full height and nibbles at my earlobe, breathing hard. “I’ve thought about it. I’ve definitely admired it from afar. Now I can’t take my hands off it. Off you.”
I’m shaking with arousal. I’ve never needed anything or anyone so much in my life. The only thing I can do is nod.
“Yes,” I gasp.
I’m really wet and can smell my own arousal. I hear him ripping at and unzippering his jeans.
I shriek in excitement when he pulls me flush to him; his cock pulsing against my ass, slick with my wetness.
He cups my breasts, kisses my shoulder blades, the back of my ear, his hot, deep breaths making my blood boil even more. “Please, Miles…” I push forward against the wall, to let him in.
“You don’t need to ask for it, whatever you want is yours.”
I feel the tip of his cock at my entrance. “But I don’t have anything, Lia,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.
I meet his gaze over my shoulders. “I’m protected. I trust you,” I breathe.
There’s a flash of gratefulness in those blue eyes. Like relief. He flips me around to face him, hoists my legs up to wrap around his hips, pushes me back against the wall, and powers in at once, thrusting so hard that I nearly come. I groan.
“God,” we say, in unison, as he stays in me. Unmoving for a second. Two. Three.
He slides his nose down mine.
My breath is his breath.
My want is his want.
My heart is his own.
I can’t even reason with those thoughts right now. My walls ripple around him even as he pulses inside me. He groans as if he can’t take it any longer. Wraps an arm around my ass, clutching my ass cheeks as he pulls out ever so slowly, then slams back in, hip-to-hip.
And we groan again. My groan muffled when he sticks his tongue into my mouth. And we start to have a tongue fucking fest to the same rhythm of his hips, pushing him as fast and hard inside me as he can go.
And it’s only then that I admit that I’m in some very deep trouble with Miles Foster, the best man.
But I’ll be damned if I can stop now.
