The Perfect Wrong, page 30
“Sorry I brought it up. Let’s just keep having fun, okay?”
He nods and starts spinning me around again, pulling me closer with every turn, wheeling me over and brushing his cock against me every time I lean in.
Holy hell, he feels divine.
Nothing should come between us tonight.
He’s staked his claim publicly, and I’m ready to face down hell to keep it.
Whatever penalty it takes to stay in his mile-wide embrace until those stars smeared overhead burn out.
There’s no more time for heady thoughts, though.
Not when he makes me bend over and grabs my hips.
I flush, embarrassed because we’re dressed way too nicely to be dancing dirty. But I feel his hand graze up my thigh.
His thrusts grind my clit through our clothes, amping up the firestorm in my blood.
Holy unholies.
I need him tonight like I need a cool drink of water to soothe my scorched throat.
My hips roll back against his and I try not to burst out laughing.
...I’m honest-to-God twerking for a minute, and I wonder what he’s turning me into.
But my eyes don’t want to focus through the sticky summer night, the lust, the pleasure he drums through every nerve.
When I look up, shock rips through me.
Several drunken, grinning faces from the pool are practically leering at us, frat boys and sorority girls whispering to each other, pointing when they don’t think we’re looking.
Big yikes.
I bolt up, but Chris catches me, taking my hands in his.
He turns me around so I’m facing away from the crowd before we’re back in the same position, bent over and dangerously positioned against his unstoppable cock.
“We’re not leaving this dance floor till you come for me, Delia. Fuck yes, I mean right here,” he orders. “Lose it. Give it up for me like you did that first night.”
He leans in, brushing his sandpaper stubble across my cheek, his breath so ragged and molten in my ear I think I’m going to combust on the spot.
“Are you crazy?” I’m dead serious, despite crazy coming out as a moan when I feel his friction on my clit, pulling me deeper into this animal heat. “W-we can’t. They’re watching...”
“Let ’em.” He pauses, letting it sink in. “I meant everything I said earlier. Everybody’s gonna see us dance, baby, and I don’t give a single fuck.”
He tosses me up then, spins me in his arms, and my whole world shatters.
One hand grabs my ass, stiffens me against him, and the other darts under my skirt, slowly caressing up my bare skin, flicking my panties aside.
His fingers fill me, giving my clit a rough stroke with his thumb.
Oh, fuck.
“Chris, I...I can’t come like this. I can’t come standing up with all these people just...just staring at us...”
I’m panting now.
“Nobody sees shit,” he growls. “You’ve got your back turned. To them, we’re just dancing. And that’s exactly what we’re doing, babe. Bring it home for me. All your best moves.”
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth.
My throat feels like a desert.
I’m probably dehydrated from the wet mess he’s made me all night, and now I’m creaming on his fingers.
While his hand works rough, he moves me so gently, this vicious contrast that takes me apart.
I still think the clowns behind us can see everything if they really look. But it probably resembles two drunken, overdressed lovers at a wedding, just swaying to the music oozing out the speakers.
All right, you win.
I can’t say it, but it’s all I can think of as his strokes come harder, more urgent.
My knees buckle, ready to send me crashing to the ground, but the badass holds me up.
And just when I think I can’t, he proves I absolutely can.
His lips come down on mine.
My body explodes.
I come so hard I see stars—all the stars above—my pussy clenching around his fingers so tight I break.
I’m aching, burning, pulsing against his hand.
I fight crying out, but I end up groaning into his mouth instead.
Chris devours my pleasure and keeps working his fingers, a wicked prelude to all the ways I know he’ll take me later tonight.
When the storm passes, I collapse against him, wiping sweat off my brow, loving how he kisses me so gingerly like he’s waking me up from a dream.
And let’s be real, he absolutely is.
“Holy hell! I can’t believe you made me do t-that,” I stammer. “We’ve got to set some boundaries, Mister. No kidding this time.”
He chuckles like I can’t be serious.
Even his rolling laugh makes me ache for him. I want to drop to my knees and suck him off right here in the open, but there’s no hiding that from anyone.
What am I turning into?
“Leave that to me, babe. I know your limits. Don’t worry, I’m gonna push them all, sweet Delia.”
I suck in a breath, tingling to my toes.
“But why?” I bite my lip and look into his eyes.
“Because you’re mine, dammit. You were a virgin before me. I’m the only man you’ve had—and the only one you get. I’ll burn these memories into you permanently. Gotta leave you something to fuck yourself to every night I can’t warm your bed. Have to keep you mine somehow.”
My heart dives.
Is that what he’s worried about?
He thinks I’ll run off with another man or lose interest when he isn’t around?
It should piss me off.
I want to believe I’ve earned his trust, but something about this fear that’s disguised in his usual dirty language, feels weirdly endearing.
Regaining my strength, I stretch up on my tiptoes and push my lips to his, kissing him with a brand-new hunger.
This isn’t about his worries.
He’s opening up to me right now, exposing a crack in the stoic testosterone armor I’m so used to.
I run my hand over his face, admiring his powerful jawline.
We kiss for a few more fraught minutes, trying to get more, more, and it’s never enough.
My thighs shift together, hungry to feel him wedged between them.
“You know there’s nothing to worry about, right? I don’t know how to date a super soldier man, but I’ll learn. You’re worth it, Chris.” Smiling, I tell him everything, hoping it’s what he needs to hear.
“These missions don’t always go off clean, Delia. Guys get killed. Or captured. They might not come back for years. Sometimes they come home in pieces.” There’s a brutish edge in his voice like he’s preparing me for something horrific.
Like he knows we’re racing headfirst into the darkness, plummeting into the scary depths of his life that could drag him down, never to resurface.
“I get it. I’ve done my research. I have some idea what it’s like for those poor military wives...”
He cocks his head, smug disbelief lining his lips.
“All theory. That’s a start, but it’s no stand-in for experience. And I don’t just mean mine. Cordelia, are you ready to put your life on hold for me? To accept there’s a chance I might not come home to kiss you again?”
My breath stalls.
Okay, now I see what this is.
One more chance to back out.
For a second, grim possibilities swirl in my head, foggy and anxious and sad.
Then I mouth “no,” shaking my head so hard it hurts.
I want to kiss him with the entire weight of my soul.
Everything that proves I know what I’m asking for.
What I’m accepting just by being with him.
Didn’t he save my life once?
Didn’t I see what could happen when things go wrong, up close and scarily personal?
Why the hell would I crack up now?
I lean in and whisper in his ear, “With you, I’m ready for anything, Prince Charming Dick. So, are you just going to stand around gabbing all night—or will you stop worrying and get me on my back?”
His eyes light up and he laughs.
He kisses me deeply, his tongue chasing mine.
“Love the way you think, Miss Delia. Guess you’ve learned a thing or two about pleasing my stubborn ass.”
* * *
I need this damn dress off now.
I’m climbing the wall, pressed up against it, deliciously crushed under Chris and a relentless flurry of kisses.
With too many people lounging around the beach, we snuck into the basement.
Dad’s wine cellar is usually locked. Thank God, or else we’d probably find a few partiers down here, passed out in a puddle of thousand-dollar wine.
We’ve got to be careful with all the bottles against the wall.
There’s a granite counter with a sink in the center, and that’s where Chris takes me next, tearing off my dress as he sucks at my neck.
“Faster, Chris... Get me naked,” I whimper, raking my nails down his chest, so overwhelmed with lust I feel like a melting candle. “I need you inside me.”
Sweet Jesus.
It’s like I’m in heat.
All I can think about is that black dragon snaking its way across his chest, swaying while he thrusts, the trident slashing across his muscular canvas like Zeus’ own lightning.
“Working on it, princess. I’m doing you a courtesy, trying not to shred this fancy dress that’s had my cock throbbing all night.”
Who cares? my eyes say.
My sigh becomes breathless.
I swing my legs around him, pushing them down his firm ass, begging to feel him break me to pieces.
“Oh, just take it off. Marnie helped me find this one and she’ll help me again,” I say, beyond impatient.
“You sure, Delia?” He stops and grins, waiting for me to nod. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
Powerful hands reach behind me, his fingers so restless.
My jaw drops as I feel him pull, hear the shearing riiiiiip!
The man doesn’t make false promises.
He completely tears my dress off and flings it on the floor, moving his hands to my bra and panties next.
They’re gone in half a heartbeat.
I’m trying to work on him too, but my fingers keep trembling.
I’m just too horny to be coordinated right now.
But he moves his thick hands over mine, helping me open him up.
The princely military suit slowly reveals the bad boy underneath.
Marching inks and razor-sharp symbols like wire and runes fill my eyes, branded on every rock-hard inch of him.
Gentleman by day.
Beautiful bastard after dark.
The sweet contrast makes my pussy tingle.
With a sigh caught in my throat, I untuck the shirt underneath his jacket and drag it up with my fingers.
“How much does this shit cost? Six figures?” he asks, nodding at the neat shelves of bottles as he glances around. “Shame. All this fancy wine here, but everything I want to taste is already laid out in front of me.”
Without another word, he drops down, grabs my ass, and pulls me to his mouth.
My legs swing over his shoulders. Muscles I never knew I had clench the instant his hot tongue slides through my folds, picking up where his fingers left off, rising to my clit with sweeping licks.
“Oh. Oh, Chris!” I squeal, hoping the thick glass door sealing us off from the rest of the house contains the sound.
I’m forever in awe of how fast he unravels me.
My muscles limber up, then tighten as the pleasure mounts, bound and paralyzed by his tongue smacking my clit.
His green eyes stab through me the entire time.
Growling, he pulls me tighter, halfway off the counter. Holding me up, he makes me ride his face, a new wave of fire in every lash of his tongue.
By now, I should be used to his magic.
But every flick of his mouth still feels like a brand-new rush.
Exhilarating.
He licks me deeper, building to a crescendo, playing the tension in my body like a master conductor guiding a choir.
And this master makes every electric bit of me sing.
My hips writhe on his face as his growls deepen, vibrating through me, holding me down.
This is what I am in his hands.
His willing prisoner.
His shameless prize.
His, entirely.
That wave comes higher with every lick, crests, unleashes the flood of ecstasy in my depths, and swallows me whole.
Coming!
I come so hard I almost black out, digging my nails into his hair, urging him on until I wonder how he doesn’t need air.
God.
That just makes him lick more aggressively, his tongue brushing my clit while it’s captured between his teeth, carrying me through the brilliant, howling storm of my own body.
Holy hell.
I couldn’t say when it ends to save my life.
I just know that when my eyes open again, he’s naked and on top of me, flicking his cock impatiently against my wetness.
“Finally. I thought you’d checked out on me for the night, babe,” he says roughly.
He doesn’t hesitate to push in, filling me to the hilt.
His lips curl back as he sinks in, and he doesn’t stop until his balls are wedged against my ass.
He only needs one stroke to take me over.
To stretch me so sweetly, to remind me of his size, to tell me I’ll take every inch of him like the good girl I am.
Perfection.
We’re perfect twined together, molded together in the fullest carnal sense.
“Got to make tonight count, babe. I’m leaving soon,” he whispers, stopping to rake his hot lips and stubble over my throat. He sucks the nook below my ear so hard I know he’ll leave a bruise, and I don’t care.
Ouch. He picks now of all times to bring it up?
“There’s a mission?” I whisper.
“That’s up to the bosses, but yeah, something’s brewing. Don’t give me that worried look, Delia. Do I need to drive that shit out of your eyes?” He runs his hand slowly through my hair, tugging my locks in his fist. He pulls harder just as he rears back, driving his cock to my depths. “Fuck me. Fuck me like you’ll take this dick when I come home. Show me how you’ll miss me, woman.”
“Chris...”
I breathe his name softly, but the tenderness is gone.
All the wild energies from the party take over.
He slams into me again and again, wielding so much force I almost bounce off the table.
I pinch my legs around him, tighter than ever.
I love how he glides through my heat, my wetness, straight to my womb.
I love the glint in his eye, the roughness in his voice as he takes his pleasure.
And I’m on the verge of tears when he lunges forward with his muscles drawn tight.
The wine cellar feels like a freaking sauna tonight. Sweat rolls off us in rivulets.
I impulsively rise up at one point when he slows his strokes, kissing the drops off his chest.
He tastes just like he smells—salty, masculine, earthy, and powerful.
Like the sea that brought him to me and calls him away, the bottomless deep with its beauty and perils and dangers I can’t comprehend.
His steaming mouth covers mine, owning it.
His tongue punches deep, thrusting with the same ragged tempo in his hips.
I kiss back harder, sucking his tongue wildly, throwing my hands over his neck and digging my nails deep.
“Delia, fuck!” he grunts like a wolf, something possessive flaring in his storming green eyes.
The fever burns.
The only cure in the world is his dick, his come, his kisses so rough they bruise me.
His sweat, his scent, his thrusts.
“Fuck me,” I whisper harshly, throwing my body at his. “Give me something to remember while you’re gone. Mark me.”
I’m speaking with a voice I don’t recognize.
Proof positive that I’ve lost my mind.
But deep in my heart, it feels right, it feels sane, and I realize he’s remade me in his image from the day he took my V-card in Vegas.
I’m his—fully and irrevocably—and I want to be kept forever.
Chris doesn’t say a word.
He just pumps faster, faster, dragging me deeper into the flames.
His hands squeeze my ass so hard it hurts, lifting me off the granite and slamming me back down again. A few more bruises, but so what?
The pleasure is so worth it.
His chest bulges, his dragon twisting like a comet splitting the stars. His black ink becomes a heat flare consuming me.
My arms and legs are in flames.
My lungs are smoke.
Even my soul burns.
Then the most intense orgasm of my life rips me in half.
“Chris!” His name rockets out of my mouth before I’m fully overwhelmed.
Gone.
It takes all the energy in my body to squeeze out two last torn words. “Love. You.”
He throws me against the counter like a ragdoll, just as breathless as I am, balanced on knife’s edge.
My pussy clenches as his cock swells, a prelude to the coming inferno, his hot come flooding my depths.
“Cordelia, fuck,” he whispers, shoving his face against my neck.
He sucks my flesh into his mouth and bites so hard I want to scream but I’m just too breathless.
The shock makes my explosion ten times harder.
I come like it’s our last time.
A thousand futures cascade through my brain in the space of a breath, all of them with Chris.
Pleasure roars like rising flames, crackling and blinding and fusing me to him.
Before I’m deaf with bliss, I hear him grunting through the swirling chaos, and his seed heaves into my depths in thick ropes.
Now, we’re one.
Merged into a single pumping, twitching, groaning mess of two hearts and four limbs and one pulsing heartbeat.
Ecstasy spins like a tornado, stronger and wilder by the second, flinging me in every direction and they all end in the same white-hot bliss.
