“I apologize for being nothing but a burden to you.”
“Truthfully,” he says, his warm breath brushing against the top of my head, “you’ve been a nice distraction.”
Goose bumps freckle my skin.
Speaking of distracting, the way his body molds to mine is doing a very good job.
“Do you love your ex-girlfriend?” If that question was made of metal, it would be brass. It’s not my business. But it’s out there, looming over us. No taking it back.
“I thought I did.” He pauses on a breath. “Do you love him? Your…”
“I thought I did.”
He’s got the itch to ask me if that’s why I ran. I sense it in the way his muscles tighten and still. That’s what I’d want to know if I were him. And I scratch.
“He did something unforgiveable.”
He eases.
“You don’t have to explain more. Not tonight.” His hand runs across my back. It’s comforting. “But, don’t you have anyone looking for you?”
“I doubt it.” It’s not entirely true. I’m sure Shaw is wondering where I went. In his eyes, he owns me. I’m sure my parents are looking for me. The campaign fund counts on it. I’m sure Shaw’s family is looking for me. They want their money’s worth. “I’m unloved, unappreciated, unwanted.”
He clamps a supportive hand on my shoulder. I glance at it and then him, a sincerity on his face. “Maybe you are unappreciated. I can believe that. But there’s no fucking way you’re unwanted.”
“You believe that, don’t you?”
“I do.”
I cringe at those two simple words.
“How could you?” I face away from him.
But he brings my gaze back to his with a gentle coaxing of my chin. “Because I want you.”
For reasons beyond me—alcohol, the need to feel desired, my attraction to him, D, all of the above—I lift my mouth to his, kissing him with every bit of energy I have after today. Surprisingly, it’s a lot. I mount him, continuing my desperate assault on his lips. He grasps his long fingers around my biceps, lifting me away from him. His eyes search for mine through the mess of black hair hanging around my face. His face tenses as he fights himself. But I feel his want between my thighs.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he says, sincere concern in his expression. It makes me want him more.
“I need this,” I do need this. I need to feel wanted, to feel want for someone else, even for a few minutes, “and you need this. It’s win win.”
I’ve never slept around. Every man I’ve been with was a long-term boyfriend. But here I am, on my wedding night, ready to let a man inside me who is definitely not my husband. I don’t even know his last name.
But I want to come in this man’s arms.
I want it.
I want him.
“Use me,” I plead, my hips grinding into his cock, coming out of the slit in his bottoms.
He sits up, taking me with him, and then stares straight into my eyes. He presses his palm to the back of my head and the other on my ass, holding me against him. Like I’d try to get away.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, “you’re so beautiful.”
His mouth moves in, kissing along my jaw and down my neck. He removes his hand and then the sound of a drawer opening fills the silent room. He continues kissing me, touching me, wanting me. His other arm moves from my ass to around my lower back, and he lifts me up. I hear the rip of a wrapper and the stretch of rubber as it expands over something hefty in size.
“Greier,” I whisper, my hands finding his face, the roughness of his stubble under my fingertips. His fingers push my panties aside.
“Reagan,” he moans against my collarbone, entering me.
(2.13.18)
© Lena Black 2017
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