Have Me (Stark Trilogy, #3.6)(10)

“Our wedding is our bond. Our promise and our proof. It’s a symbol to the world around us that we’ll fight and that we’ll win. Most of all, that we are one.”

He spreads his fingers, his eyes locked on his own ring. “A simple silver band,” he says. “But it’s made of titanium, and that’s about as strong as it gets.” He meets my eyes, and I am awed by the ferocity reflected back at me. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart. Not anymore.”

I look down at my own ring, a platinum band accompanying a stunning diamond solitaire. “Maybe I should trade this in for titanium.”

“Not necessary,” he says, as he takes my hand, holding it so that our two rings touch. “I will always give you the strength you need.”

“I know.” I wish there was a way to fill the sound of my voice with everything that is inside me. I clutch tight to his hand and pull him toward me as I stretch out on the chaise. “I want you now,” I say. “I want to feel my husband inside me.”

His grin is slightly wicked and slightly amused. “Convenient,” he says. “Because at the moment I’m overcome by the urge to ravish my wife.”

I manage a fake yawn and pat my hand over my mouth. “So unoriginal. After all, you did that just a few hours ago.”

“And you have a better idea?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” I shift on the chaise so that I am straddling him. “I was thinking that I should ravish my husband.”

“Were you?” He is on his back, and I am sitting just above his pubic bone. I feel his cock twitch, teasing my ass. I rise up, then scoot backward just a bit. He is fully erect now, and I hold his cock with one hand while I wiggle my hips to position myself. I keep my eyes on Damien as I do and watch the storm building. He knows what I’m up to—how could he not?—but that doesn’t stop his groan of surprise and pleasure when I quickly lower my body, impaling myself on his steel-hard cock.

“Yes,” I say in answer to his question. “I was.”

My voice is breathy, and I rock a bit as I speak, using my knees to rise up and down. I ride him hard and fast, my back arched, my breath coming in ragged bursts. I do not close my eyes, and in unspoken agreement, neither does he.

Damien Stark is as necessary to me as my blood. He is what makes me whole, what makes me alive. And as I move on him—as I feel him hard inside me, so vibrant and vital—I watch the passion burn like fire in his eyes and know with unerring certainty that it is the same for him.

“Now.” Without warning, he grasps me by the hips. I cry out as both pain and pleasure rock through me when he slams me harder against him, thrusting his cock even deeper so that I feel the shock of him through every cell, filling me until I’m right on the precipice.

“Come with me now,” he says, and the passion and need in his voice push me that rest of the way over. My sex clenches tight around him, and I cry out from the force of the explosion that rips through my body even as Damien’s hips thrust up and he empties himself into me.

I fall forward, my heart pounding and my body trembling as the final shocks of both my own orgasm and his rumble through me. “Damien,” I murmur.

“I know,” he replies.

Later, we spoon together, drifting in that place that is neither sleep nor wakefulness. He is behind me, his body tucked against mine, making me feel safe and warm. So much so that I make a soft noise of protest when he pushes himself up on an elbow.

He chuckles in response to my protest, and I am about to voice my objections even more loudly when he begins to trail his finger lightly over my side, along the curve of my waist and hip. I sigh and snuggle backward, ensuring maximum contact. Right then, I feel so light, warm, and sated, so satisfied I think I could simply melt into the mattress. “Please tell me that I never have to move again.”

“I could tell you that.” I hear the hint of a tease in his voice. “I could probably even make it happen, though it would be an expensive proposition. Another couple has rented this bungalow, and I believe they’re scheduled to arrive in just under five hours.”

I roll over in his arms. “Another—”

“And if you never move again we’d undoubtedly miss our plane. Not to mention the honeymoon I’ve planned.”

I sit up, enjoying the way the cool air caresses my heated skin.

“Well,” Damien says. “I do like this view.” He traces his finger lightly over my breast, and my already erect nipple becomes even tighter.

“Honeymoon?” I repeat. “I thought this—” But I cut myself off. Of course this isn’t our actual honeymoon destination. While I had been planning our wedding, Damien had been planning the honeymoon. But our decision to elope had been last-minute, and Damien had taken care of that, too. Only now do I realize that I had been assuming the two destinations were one and the same. Clearly, that assumption sat somewhere to the left of reality.

“Okay,” I say after making all the necessary mental readjustments. “Where are we going?”

“Where? Were you not listening earlier? Honeymoon tradition. Remote location. Intense seduction.” He draws a lazy pattern on my bare breasts, leaving a trail of heat and renewed desire.

“I’m all for intense seduction,” I admit. “But if you’re expecting to get me out of bed, you’re going at it all wrong.”