Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
He started laughing so hard he almost squirted beer out his nose.
I decided now was probably not the best time for us to have a little come-to-Jesus about this patriarchal macho crap that the MC was apparently all about. Still, I said my thank yous to everybody with a genuine smile at their obvious intention of generosity and welcome. After all, they had rolled out quite the red carpet for me. I was deeply moved, and grateful. I wore the vest the rest of the night, right over the bridal gown. And—truth, here—I started to love the feel of it on me.
At some point in the night, after several hours of great times, Jack looked at me with some level of determination in his eyes, and indicated that it was time for us to begin saying our thanks and goodnights.
He made quick work of it, actually—just lifted his chin and called out a general, “Iron Bandits,” raised his fist in the air for a second or two, then grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him toward his bike.
I didn’t even get a chance to say goodnight to Peter—or anyone else, for that matter—but since I was less-than-sober, he probably wasn’t missing out on much.
Considering the near-full length of the mermaid-style silk hugging my legs, Jack deposited me on the back of his bike side-saddle style, lifting the bottom of the skirt so it wouldn’t get caught in anything and stuffing it between my thighs and the seat. Then he climbed on in front of me, grunted, “Hold on to me tight, babe,” and we were off.
This was new to me, and all I could think about during that ride was that there was nothing like feeling the air and the freedom of the road from the back of a bike, in a wedding gown and a kutte, with the hottest man in the world attached to my front side. My cheek pressed against his back, and I could not have stopped the smile that took over my face, even if someone had offered me a million bucks.
When we arrived back at his place—officially, for now, our place—we were both quiet in our thoughts. I was suddenly feeling shy again, not sure of what happened next. I guessed we might just separate into our two bedrooms, and call it a night.
But that didn’t feel right. Tonight was a big night. It meant something. And I didn’t want to say goodnight, not yet.
We were still standing out by the bike, just facing each other for a minute, and I spontaneously put my hands on either side of his neck and pulled his face down to mine, intending just to kiss his lips, in acknowledgement of the moment—well, that seemed as good an excuse as any.
He let me, and for several seconds it was a sweet, light, gentle kiss.
Then he groaned.
And we both immediately opened our mouths, our tongues came out lashing, and we were suddenly in a mad clasp of need and desire.
He tasted like whiskey and beer and heaven. His arms pulled me tight to his body so I could feel his hardness press against my belly. I grasped his hair and the back of his neck, trying to crawl up him for a better angle—the man was tall!
He read my need, and swung me up in his arms again, not even breaking the kiss. I don’t think I would have let him, had he tried. The next thing I knew, he had brought me inside and to his bedroom and set me down by the bed. It was then that he broke our delicious tongue-play.
“Are you okay…”
I smirked at him, dropped my new kutte to the floor, loosened the gown by the side zipper, and shimmied it down my body. I was left in a beautiful panty-and-bra set of white lace, and a kick-ass pair of white cowboy boots that Lena had lent me.
His jaw dropped, his pupils dilated, and he said, “Fuuuck.”
I took it as a compliment.
His hands roamed my body, from my collarbones down my arms to my hands, from my waist up to my breasts. I took the opportunity to peel his kutte off as well, and to unbutton his dress shirt and divest him of it. He spent some time appreciating my breasts and nipples through my bra; I spent some time tasting his neck, his chest, whatever I could reach.
He pulled himself away from me a few inches and unclasped my bra, peeled it off of me, and tossed it aside. Then with a growl he grasped my ass in both hands and dove for a nipple, sucking and nipping it, pinching and twisting the other for fair play. I gasped and writhed and threw my head back, wanting more.
“Tell me what you need,” he said.