Chapter Fifty-Two

Jen

 

Dylan’s eyes had gone hazy and mellow. You. Are. Welcome.

I looked out the window and we were nearing the Orange County beaches.

Nice. A hotel down here wouldn’t have any paparazzi and John Wayne Airport was nearby for our private plane to whatever warm place he’d picked.

Our driver must’ve been speeding, for the trip took forty minutes even with light traffic.

We stopped at a small resort and the lobby light was still on. I pitied the clerk having to serve people near midnight on Christmas. Short straw? Or no family.

Dylan, redressed, removed our suitcases and extended the pull handles, then went to the driver’s window. “Thanks for working overtime, man.” He slipped him some cash.

“Merry Christmas, sir. Enjoy your honeymoon.”

“Count on it.”

The SUV drove away. Dylan wouldn’t let me pull either case, so I walked with him while giving them room, but grabbed one when he opened the door for me.

“Mrs. Smith—”

“It isn’t heavy.”

He shook his head, then continued to the front desk. The lobby was decorated in beachy neutrals except for the Christmas tree covered in seashells and starfish. “The Smiths, checking in.”

The young man smiled and typed. “The honeymoon suite. Right.” A few more keystrokes, then he produced two electronic keys. “Top floor and straight ahead from the elevator. Do you need help with your bags?”

“Nope,” I said.

“The honeymoon package includes complimentary champagne and room service. Congratulations on your wedding.” He slid a sheet of paper and pen to my husband.

“Thank you,” Dylan said, signing the form.

“Enjoy your stay.”

We headed for the elevator.

Inside, Dylan kissed me hot, then when the door opened, he had both suitcases.

“Not fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war, baby.”

“But you can’t hold on to those and carry me across the threshold.”

A scowl over his shoulder with no meat in it, then we reached a suite with double doors.

He opened the one with the lock, pulled the luggage inside, then swung both doors open for me. Inside, a beautiful space, but my eyes were on the view out the enormous window.

He took advantage of my distraction to swoop me up into his arms and set me on the king-size bed. A quick run to shut us inside and he returned to tackle me, chewing on the spot on my neck that made me squeal.

Laughing, I cried, “Stop!”

He lifted his head, eyes blazing. “No.” Then kissed me like he really meant it, thrusting his tongue into my mouth until I submitted under him, stretching my arms over my head on the silky comforter. “I need you naked.”

“I know.”

The playfulness was gone. Dylan undressed me quickly and seriously, leaving me in only hosiery and shoes in seconds. He was less careful with his clothes, pulling them off to land on random spots on the floor until he was in his birthday suit before me.

Beautiful and bare.

We didn’t need foreplay now, so he lifted one of my legs over his shoulder and thrust inside me. “Finally,” he said. “I’ll give you romance later, I promise.”

I shook my head. “Fuck me, Dylan.”

All the words needed to release my husband’s primal side.

Between us, all of it was romantic, whether quick and dirty or slow and mellow, because love was never absent. I felt it in every glance, every touch, every shift of his hips.

So, wild and jerky? Still getting the job done.

My pussy tightened on his cock.

“Not yet,” he gritted out.

I couldn’t control my body’s reaction, not with him spearing me at this angle, rubbing my G-spot with every stroke. “Let go,” I told him.

He dropped my leg, sped up his thrusts, and I felt the change inside.

“Don’t stop!”

“I can’t.”

My pussy clamped hard and I came with a noise I didn’t know I was capable of. The orgasm made me deaf for a couple seconds and my vision got a white haze. So this is what it was like when all the blood left your head. Trippy.

Floating. Bliss.

Then my limbs got heavy. He was heavy on me.

“Are you dead?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

Maybe passing out wasn’t a bad idea.