Page 32

Patrick carried me bridal style over the threshold of the cabin.

"Let's start over," he murmured, his whiskey-tinged breath warm against my ear, before he deposited me on the bed. I kicked off my heels, feeling the soft rug under my feet. The room flickered with the light of a dozen candles, and the rose petals still decorated the bed.

He leaned over and his lips once again sealed mine with a passionate kiss. His hands moved to the back of my dress. I felt him hesitate before we broke our kiss, and he stared at me dumbfounded, "How many buttons are there?"

I giggled, "Twenty-five."

I had counted them, because I could be anal like that. Twenty-five pearl buttons, with tiny little holes to fit into, way too small for his large hands.

"Hold on," I rose from the bed and grabbed the dress' hem, pulling it up and over my head while bending like a pretzel here and there, wiggling my hips out of the tight fit.

His hands helped lift it over my head; all I wore now was a lacy, white bra and a gazillion petticoats.

Oh, and the white stockings and white panties.

"God, Ella, you’re beautiful," he said in a husky voice.

"Only for you," I replied, reaching up to unbutton his shirt, revealing the familiar landscape of his chest. My fingers traced the hard contours of his chiseled muscles, committing every inch to memory on this night that was supposed to be a celebration of our union.

The world shrank to the space between us, to the heat of his skin against mine, as we moved together toward the bed, shedding the remnants of our fancy attire and, with each piece, the remnants of our quarrel.

There was a gentleness in his touch, a reverence as he explored my body, igniting fires along the paths his fingers traced.

Reverently, he cupped my breasts, then leaned forward and began to suck on first one and then the other nipple, igniting a fire in my belly and a deep ache in my pussy.

His lips trailed lower, kissing a path down my stomach as his hands slid the lace panties down my thighs.

I shivered in anticipation, my fingers threaded through his hair.

He nudged my legs apart, settling between them; his warm breath teased me right before his mouth was on me.

A deep moan escaped me; I didn't think I would ever get enough of him doing this.

Expertly, he swirled his tongue around my sensitive bud, lapping at my slick folds.

I gasped and arched into him, while pleasure coiled tighter inside me with each stroke.

His fingers joined his mouth, sliding inside me, curling just right to hit that spot that made me see stars. I was climbing higher and higher; my body trembled with the need for release. But then he pulled back, his eyes dark with desire as they met mine.

"I want to be inside you when you come," he rasped.

I bit my lips, nodding, because I wanted that too.

I wanted to feel him everywhere, around me, inside me.

I needed to feel his closeness. I needed him.

He positioned himself at my entrance, teasing it with the top of his velvety cock's head, before he smoothed himself inside me.

I cried out as my walls stretched to accommodate him.

My hands grabbed for his hard biceps, while he cradled my head with one arm and used the other to keep most of his weight off me.

"God Ella, I love you so fucking much," he groaned.

"I love you too," I leaned up to kiss him, tasting myself on his lips.

He set a steady rhythm, each stroke stoking the flames higher, while I wrapped my legs around his hips, urging him deeper. Our bodies moved as one, like a sensual dance we had perfected. Sweat slicked our skin as we chased our pleasure together.

"Patrick," I moaned his name like a prayer. "I'm so close..."

"Let go, baby," he panted. "I've got you. I'll always have you."

With those words, those perfect words, I did let go. I let go of everything, except him and me. I would never let go of that.

My inner muscles clenched around him as waves of ecstasy crashed over me.

I cried out his name, clinging to him desperately as I shattered into a million blissful pieces.

He thrust into me harder, faster, chasing his own release until, with a guttural groan, he joined me over the edge.

His hips stuttered as he spilled himself deep inside me, and his face reflected a mask of pure rapture.

We stayed like that for a long moment. Our hearts pounded and our chests heaved as we savored the intimacy of our joining. Finally, he rolled off of me and gathered me into his arms. I snuggled against his chest, utterly sated and content.

"I meant what I said," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my hair. "I'll always be here for you, Ella. No matter what happens, it's you and me against the world."

"Hmm," I purred, "I like that."

"You and me, Mrs. McCloud," he grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers before he gently kissed them.

"You and me," I agreed. "Forever."