The Reluctant Bride (Arranged Marriage #1)(66)

He’s big. Thick.

There’s a tattoo peeking just above the waistband of his boxers. Another one on his left thigh. I can’t tell what any of them are, but I like them. I want to see them up close.

I want to explore them with my lips and tongue.

“Take off your dress,” he demands and I shake my head, earning a hard stare for my answer. “Why the fuck not?”

“I need your help,” I admit, biting my lower lip. “With the zipper.”

I roll over onto my stomach to show him.

A groan leaves him and he rejoins me on the bed, his hands skimming up the back of my legs, sparks shooting where his palms connect with my flesh. He pulls me into position so I’m on my knees, his hands on the inside of my thighs, ducking his head, his mouth landing right on my sensitive flesh.

A squeal leaves me and I push back against his face, slowly dying inside as he licks me, exploring every inch of me. My heavy breaths ring through the air as he readjusts himself so he’s lying on his back and I’m essentially sitting on his face.

It’s the most scandalous thing I’ve ever done in my life and it feels so good, I can’t even worry about it. I grind myself against his mouth, his lips latching on to my clit and sucking, his hands on my ass, spreading me wider. I grip the comforter in my fists, staring blindly at the wall, my entire body tensing as he licks and sucks, driving me closer and closer to the edge.

When he slips a finger inside of me, I explode with a cry, my entire body wracked with shivers, the orgasm rippling through me, leaving me breathless. Unable to speak. Unable to do anything but just lie there and take it.

He doesn’t let up. Only when the trembling begins to subside and my breathing calms does he shift away, sliding up behind me to drop a kiss on my nape before he undoes the tiny snap at the base of my neck and slides the zipper down, the fabric parting, revealing I’m not wearing a bra.

“Let’s take this off,” he murmurs, like no big thing. As if he didn’t just give me the most monumental orgasm of my life.

I lie there helplessly and let him finish undressing me. Once the dress is gone, he rolls me over onto my back and I stare up at him, wearing only the shoes and the earrings, just as he requested.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs before he ducks his head, his mouth on mine.

I kiss him back with everything I’ve got, completely blissed out. Even a little sleepy.

“Future wife,” he murmurs, his mouth tickling my skin as he kisses my neck. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

A giggle escapes me and then his lips return to mine, his tongue doing a slow, languid tour of my mouth. I drown in his kiss, my hand curling around his nape, my fingers tangling in the dark-blond curls there. I slide my other hand down the front of his chest, breaking away from his seeking lips so I can study the words tattooed there.

Break my heart.

I frown, glancing up at him. “Why do you have that tattooed on your chest?”

“I got it a couple years ago, when I was younger and stupid,” he admits, trying to kiss me again, but I dodge him.

Perry growls in frustration, the sound making me tingle everywhere.

“Did someone break your heart?” I press hard against his flesh, the steady beat of his heart a comfort against my palm.

I hate the idea of him being with someone else. That a woman could’ve broken his heart and he still longs for her. That would hurt.

More than I’d want to admit.

He slowly shakes his head. “I put those words there to remind myself that I have one. In case I ever forget. I am a Constantine, after all.”

My own heart pangs at the sadness in his words and I reach for him, resting my hand on his cheek.

“You have a big heart, Perry,” I whisper. “Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

He devours me, as if my words turn him on and everything becomes a blur. We’re tangled up in each other, my hands slipped beneath his boxer briefs and resting on his ass as he thrusts against me again and again. There is no point in pretending we’re not going to take this too far. We’ve already done it.

We’re past the point of no return.

As if I have no shame, I’m begging him, the word please falling from my lips again and again. He kisses me everywhere. My neck. My collarbone. The tops of my breasts, the valley in between them. When he draws my nipple into his mouth, I arch off the bed as he nibbles and sucks on the sensitive piece of flesh, clutching him close, never wanting him to stop.

It all feels too good to be true.

We get his boxer briefs off and his erection nudges against me, eager to get inside. I spread my legs wider in encouragement and he grabs hold of the base of his cock, dragging the head through my folds, back and forth.

My eyes roll into the back of my head as a ragged moan leaves me. “Oh God, Perry. Please.”

“Please what?” he asks between pants, on his knees between my thighs, cock in hand as he delivers his exquisite torture.

I don’t even hesitate in asking for what I need.

“I want you inside of me.”

He repositions himself, his face above mine, his fingers still around the base of his cock when he slips it inside. I gasp at the sensation as he slowly fills me, inch by excruciating inch until he’s buried deep, as deep as he can go.

We’re both still, our bodies adjusting to each other, the thunderous roar of my racing heartbeat filling my ears. When he still hasn’t moved, I crack my eyes open to find him watching me, his gaze intense, his expression serious.