A short drive down the coast and we arrived at Callan’s spectacular beachfront mansion. Marco keyed in the password on the high-tech security system and led me inside. Glass windows made up the expanse of the walls facing the beach. In the night’s darkness, the coastal lights sparkled and winked in a breathtaking display.
“Beautiful view,” I said, moving closer to the window.
“We’re not here for the view.” Marco stood at the edge of the room and shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets.
“No, we’re not.” I left the view and walked over to him. “So, where are we doing this?”
His lips twitched. “Not here, that’s for sure.”
“Why? Don’t you think we can have sex here?”
“Oh, we can have sex anywhere, but I set the camera up in the bedroom.”
“Camera?”
He slid a hand from his pocket and cupped the back of my head. “I intend to watch tonight many times.”
I gulped.
He tracked his hand down my arm sending a ripple of awareness along my skin and threaded his fingers with mine, then walked us down the hallway to a dark room. Marco flicked on the lights, and they lit up the bedroom. He drew the blinds over another floor-to-ceiling window and cut off the view. A massive king-size bed sat in the center of the room, at the foot of the bed sat an armchair, and beside the chair was a camera on a tripod. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the house to give me a clue about Marco’s earlier comment.
“I don’t understand what you meant about Callan. His house is delightful.”
“Open the wardrobe.” Marco tipped his head at the wall-length cupboard.
I eased a door open half expecting the bogeyman to jump out at me. When nothing scared me, I tugged open a drawer. Inside was an assortment of whips. I snapped my gaze to Marco.
He smirked.
I slammed the drawer shut and closed the door in a hurry. “I’m not … you’re not … we’re not…”
“Relax,” Marco said. “I’m not into pain either.”
My shoulders sagged.
Marco switched on the camera and sat in the chair. The atmosphere in the room changed to a heady expectation. This was it. I popped a button on my long sleeve.
“Leave it,” Marco said. “I’ll undress you.”
My hands fell to my sides in a nervous gesture. I met his heated gaze and ran my tongue over my lips.
“Um … it’s been three years.”
His eyebrows rose, but he crooked his finger. I walked closer to Marco and stopped in front of the chair and camera.
“We have all night,” he said. “I won’t do anything to hurt you.”
I nodded and wet my dry lips.
He stood with slow, controlled movements, and plucked the tiara then a pin from my updo. “I like your hair down.” He extracted pin after pin until my long hair cascaded over my shoulders. Each time his fingers shifted in my hair a shiver of awareness rippled through me. By the time he finished, I was desperate for more.
“You are magnificent in this dress. I can see why you wanted to go to your parents’ house and get it.”
“Thank you. Sorry about my parents.”
“Your dad and I got along all right at my buck’s night. We arrived at a bit of an understanding.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t like the stripper with her breasts in your face.”
“Can’t say I enjoyed seeing an almost naked man sitting on your lap.”
What did that mean? For him? For me?
“Me either. I ended up putting my bride sash on everyone else and made sure the lap dances never danced my way again.”
He cupped my face with a hand. “Full of surprises.” He traced his thumb over my bottom lip. “What surprises do you have under this dress?”
“You’ll have to take the gown off to find out.”
His lips spread into a sensual grin. He stepped behind me leaving me facing the camera. One by one he slid the pearl buttons on the back of the dress open, his fingers skimming my flesh with each infinitesimal movement. I stared at the picture on the wall behind the camera trying to take my mind off how every brief touch of his fingers made me so needy. When he’d released all the buttons, he traced his palms up my spine to my shoulders and slid the material down my arms.
“Blue,” he said, a hint of shock tinging his voice.
“Tiff made the underwear for me as my something blue.”
“Something old was the dress?” He unbuttoned the pearls at my wrists.
“Yes. Something new was the tiara.”
“My princess.” He eased the dress sleeves from my arms with nimble fingers on the delicate material until I stood half-naked with the dress around my waist. “What was the something borrowed?”
I laughed. “You don’t want to know.”
He stepped in front of me and lowered the dress to my ankles, kneeling as he did so. I stepped out of the gown being careful not to stand on the old fabric. Marco caught my ankle in a firm hold.
“Are these Prue’s shoes from the night we listened to them outside William’s office?”
I squished my lips together and nodded.
He chuckled and removed the shoes from one foot then the other, then gathered up the wedding dress and opened the wardrobe that was a wardrobe this time and not a place for sex toys. Marco hung the gown on a hanger. My heart exploded with even more emotion for the man. Who took the time to hang a wedding dress on their wedding night? This man. My husband. He understood how much the dress meant to me.
Marco stepped behind me again, sliding his hands to my waist and up my rib cage. He cupped my breasts and teased my nipples over the top of the lacey blue fabric.
“You don’t like something, tell me to stop and I will.”
I nodded. So far, I loved every second his hands were on me. I leaned back into his hold, my half-naked body rubbed against his, still dressed in a tuxedo.
“Aren’t you taking your clothes off? Or do you want me to do it?”
“Not yet.” He slid my strapless bra down, popping my breasts free from the confines of the lace.
Cool air hit my hard nipples, then his warm hands were on them again, stroking the softness of my breasts with his knuckles.
“So soft,” he murmured, skimming across my nipples from the swell of my breast to my center and back again.
Sparks of arousal shot from my breasts to my core over and over again until my stomach quivered with the need to experience his fingers lower. His hands glided lower as though he’d read my mind. My muscles bunched under his fingers. He traced the top of my boy-leg lace panties until they were damp with my arousal. At last, he brushed across the apex of my mound. A moan escaped my throat. His hand dipped inside my panties and found my wetness.
“So wet,” he whispered in my ear. “Look at the camera, Kennedy. Let me watch your face as you come on my fingers.”
My gaze snapped to the flashing light on the video camera. Thinking about him watching this—us—later made a fresh flood of moisture gather on his fingers. He gathered the wetness at my entrance and stroked my clit with feather-light touches, driving me insane. My inner muscles clenched with the need for more, to have him inside me. I lifted a hand to the back of his neck and rammed my butt into the thickness of his arousal. His erection rubbed between my ass cheeks. I wanted him inside me. I rose on my tippy-toes and ground down. His finger slid inside me.
“Yes,” I cried out.
It’d been too long since any man touched me like this, my fingers were smaller, Marco’s finger was thick and firm. He pumped one finger along my channel while his thumb toyed with my clit in those feather-light touches. My hips bucked back against his in a remembered rhythm.
“My dirty girl, ride my finger until you come.”
At his words, my inner muscles clenched and I came so rapidly I wasn’t sure whether it was him or me who made the orgasm happen. My hips bucked back and forth chasing more pleasure, more contact, more Marco. The orgasm should have satisfied me, but it didn’t.
He added another finger and pumped into my still quivering insides. My legs shook, how I was still standing was anyone’s guess. I peered down at his hand inside my panties. He saw my look.
“You want to watch?”
I nodded.
He slid his hand from my panties. My insides wept at the loss. He eased my panties from my hips, squatted once more, and eased them from my feet. Then he unclipped my bra leaving me naked while he was still dressed.
“Doesn’t seem fair you still have your clothes on.”
“Nothing fair about this.” He shuffled me back toward the bed, picked up one of my legs, and placed my foot on the mattress, leaving my legs spread and on view to the camera. “Keep them open.”
A shiver of need rippled through me. What was it about him being demanding that made me hot?
“What are you going to do?”
“Whatever I want, wife. You’re mine for the night.”
My insides clenched.
“You like the sound of being mine or me doing whatever I want?”
I kept my mouth shut because it was both, but I couldn’t admit I wanted to be his in every way possible.
He sat on the bed and traced a hand along my inner thigh inching closer to where I wanted him most.
“Your pretty pink pussy is begging me to fill it.” He spread my folds exposing me even more. “Why couldn’t you have asked me before now? Hmm? You want me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I panted.
“Good girl,” he said, then swiped his tongue in one long lick from the bottom of my slit to my throbbing clit.
“Oh God,” I cried out.
“Not quite.” He smirked and plunged one finger inside me while keeping me spread open with his other hand. “You’re tight, Kennedy.”
“Revirginized after too long?”
He chuckled and added another finger. I stared at the sight of his two fingers pumping in and out of me at a lazy pace. Everything ached in a good way. He kissed the side of my hip. My body jerked at the unexpected arousal from something as simple as a kiss.
“You haven’t kissed me since the ceremony,” I said, my hips rocking with his fingers.
He gazed up at me, a flicker of emotion passed over his face, then he tugged me onto his lap and kissed me with so much hard passion my head reeled. His tongue thrust into my mouth making me groan long and deep. He added another finger deep inside, forcing me to the extremes of pleasure before the bite of pain.
“Stop.” I gasped and scrambled off his lap.
He let me go and leaned back on the bed with a hooded expression.
“Come here.” He crooked his finger. “Let me kiss you better.”
“I … ah…”
It was the kissing that freaked me out, not the way he’d filled me with his fingers. The intimacy, my feelings for Marco, it’d been too much in the moment.
He stood and stared at me while undressing. With each piece of clothing he removed, my mouth watered, and every other part of me wept with the need to have this man as my husband in all ways. He lay on the bed with his head at the foot.
“Sit on my face,” he said in that deep husky tone that had me jumping with need.
I scrambled onto the bed eager to do whatever he said.
“Not like that,” he said. “I want your ass at the camera, and your lips on my cock.”
My heart hammered inside my chest. I’d get to taste him too, have his throbbing erection in the heat of my mouth. I spun around and climbed over his face with more eagerness to give him pleasure than I was for Marco to give me more ecstasy. He spread my ass cheeks. I stroked my tongue along his length in response. His cock twitched. I wrapped a hand around him and slid his length into my mouth.
“Your mouth feels good.”
I hummed in response since talking would mean I’d have to take my mouth off him, and there was no way I’d let him go now I at long last had a taste of him. His fingers massaged my ass cheeks, but he didn’t lick me. I was almost glad I could concentrate on him. I licked and sucked his cock like it was the best thing I’d ever tasted, and he was. His thumbs swept closer to my ass with each stroke until sparks of forbidden desire skated up my spine. His tongue circled the tight ring of my anus.
My body jolted forward at the unprecedented pleasure, but he grabbed my hips and dragged my ass back to his mouth. He licked my tight ring again and again until my clit throbbed for some of the same attention. Anything that would make me come. He thrust two fingers inside my pussy, pressed down on my front wall and I came all over his face rolling back into his tongue as he fluttered it in time to my quivering muscles. I released his cock from my mouth to breathe and sagged against his body.
He flipped me off onto my side, lifted my leg over his hip, and slammed his cock home. For that’s what it felt like. He was home. My back arched, the orgasm which satisfied me beyond anything I’d ever experienced, roared back to life with him buried deep. He thrust his cock over my sensitive flesh in the same slow way he’d pumped his fingers inside me. Every nerve ending sparked to life with each drag of his cock. His fingers brushed feather-light strokes over my clit until stars danced behind my eyelids. Any chance I’d been too tight or not ready for him was long gone. I was ready for this.
Marco kissed the back of my neck, his lips and tongue finding the sweet spot making my muscles clench around him. He zeroed in on the spot until I gasped for air, for release, for him to always do this to me. With me.
“Marco,” I cried out as another orgasm claimed me, this one even better than the previous two because I had him, all of him, buried inside of me. My husband. And I loved it. Loved him.
He kept his pace slow and steady until my muscles stopped shaking, then he flipped me onto my stomach and pounded into me like he couldn’t control himself any longer. I loved it even more. He came with a grunt. His pulsing release filled my overstimulated body until tiny tears gathered in the corner of my eyes.
Marco kissed my shoulder, pulled out, and rolled me over. He took one glimpse at my face and gathered me into his arms. I snuggled into his embrace and placed my head on his chest, happy to hear his heart was racing as much as mine.
“That was epic,” I whispered.
He ran a hand through my hair. “Go to sleep.”
“I’m not tired.” I placed my lips on his chest and kissed his sweaty skin. Even the salty taste of his sweat turned me on.
“Me either,” he said, tugging my hair until I looked up at him. “Are you sore?”
I shook my head.
“Good.” He rolled me onto my back. “You won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”
“I’m good with that.” I grinned.
“Bad, bad girl,” he said in his husky voice.
A shiver raced through my body. How was I going to live with this being our one night together in bed? Should I change my mind? If I did, would my heart cope with it?
Marco’s mouth sucked my nipple. Who cared about tomorrow when we had tonight?
Apparently, I did.