“Need some help?”
I nod, puffing out my lips because dang it, this is ruining my swagger.
I turn slowly and hold my breath in anticipation, sighing when I feel Dustin’s knuckles graze along my shoulder blades. He sweeps my hair to the side and presses a cool kiss against the back of my neck then pulls down the zipper.
“Ahh,” I breathe out, letting my head fall back against his chest.
He has the zipper about halfway down my back and my body is tingling in anticipation as his other hand sweeps around to my front, hugging me close. I bite my lip, waiting for him to feel inside the thick bodice of this dress, but when his movements stop completely, I bring my head up in confusion.
Before I turn around, I see it. Held open in his palm, in front of my chest, is a tiny blue box. Robin’s egg blue. Tiffany blue. It’s a wish list item that I joked about once when we first started dating.
“Hannah Banana,” he says, his voice deep and breath warm against my shoulder. I reach up and take the box in my hands, flipping open the lid and revealing a massive diamond circled with dozens of tiny ones and swirls of platinum. My knees buckle but Dustin hugs me close, laughing nervously at my ear.
“It may be tacky to propose to someone at someone else’s wedding, but technically . . . we left. And more than that, I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
He lets his hand go, but nudges my shoulder with his other, turning me so I face him as he drops to one knee.
Dammit. I’m crying.
“Will you be my wing woman? My best passenger, best friend, backup, champion, and hero? Will you marry me and put up with all of the old-man cranky habits I’m bound to pick up from your dad? Will you be my wife, through another lifetime of us, and whatever that means? Will you . . .” I swallow hard. “Will you marry me?”
I start nodding as I drop the box, and my hands are shaking so much it’s impossible for me to slip the ring on my finger. Dustin helps me fit it over my knuckle and then swoops me up and carries me to the small velour sofa by the fireplace that I didn’t realize was lit.
He lays me down on the sofa and begins unbuttoning his shirt as he rests one knee on the couch between my legs.
“You had help in this, you devil,” I say.
He waggles his head.
“Bailey may have done me a solid. I didn’t think we were leaving quite so soon, but then . . . you said something about a present.” He drops his head to my breasts and bites at the fluff of fabric still covering me, tugging it and shaking his head like a dog.
“I mean, my present is not a marriage proposal, so maybe you got ripped off.”
“Uh uh.” He shakes his head, and his devilish grin grows as his hazel eyes darken.
I lick my lips and push myself up to sit enough to slide the dress the rest of the way over my shoulders. Dustin’s jaw drops as he sits back, so I stand and let the dress completely slide from my body. I kick it away when it hits the floor, and move to unwind the straps of my shoes that wrap up my calves.
“Leave those on,” Dustin says, grabbing my hand. I drop my foot back to the floor and stand before him in the most expensive thing I have ever bought myself. The olive green satin matches the ugly dress, but it’s definitely not the same. My nipples press against the delicate slits of lace and my panties hang on my hips in a heart-shaped cut that covers the throbbing skin between my legs, but barely. Jewel-crusted ribbons link the garter belt to the satin rings around my legs, and as Dustin’s eyes follow the line from my breasts to my thighs, his hand moves toward me automatically, gently tugging the ribbon and pulling me toward him.
“I’m pretty sure this beats the ring,” he says, pressing his kiss between my legs and warming me through the cloth as he peers up at me.
“I’m pretty sure what you’re doing wins,” I pant. He grins against me.
“Just wait.”
In a breath, I’m on my back, panties tugged to the side and Dustin’s finger sunk into me. I cry out, something I haven’t been able to do for months since Bristol and I have been living with him. It was worse before Tommy moved out. Sex has never been so . . . quiet. I love the condo, but we’re going to need to rethink the open loft.
My thighs sting with the snap of the ribbons against them. Dustin trails his mouth down the inside of my thigh and nibbles at the garters around my leg, unsnapping them with his teeth until they’re free and he’s able to slip the belt and my panties down my thighs.
The cool air hits my center and teases me, but Dustin warms me with his mouth in seconds, his tongue working up and down my swollen folds and bringing me near climax before stopping.
“Not yet,” he commands and I bite at my fist, loving the torture but desperate to fall over the edge.
I’m getting my money’s worth with this lingerie as Dustin worships me slowly. First sucking my nipples raw through the lace then pressing his tongue into them bare to soothe my skin. I arch into him, my body naked minus the belts around my thighs and the shoes on my feet, and Dustin finally works his body free of his shirt. I reach for his pants, but he holds my wrist down then kisses my belly. He drags his tongue over every inch of me until I’m writhing and can no longer stand it, then to make it worse—better—he unzips his pants, pulls out his cock, and paints my slick folds with the tip of his length.
For an hour, by the warmth of the dwindling fire, he brings me to near climax then pulls me back again. My stomach muscles tighten then relax, my hands grab then give in. He enters me, but never fully. It’s torture. Sweet, blissful, hot torture.
Just as I drop my hand down my stomach, desperate to touch myself for relief, Dustin slides into me fully. I cry out his name and he pulls back out completely then enters me again. This rhythm goes on for minutes, his hard chest a tease against my fingertips, his mouth taking hungry bites of my lips, my neck, my tits.
When I’m nearly numb from it all, he moves his hips faster, eventually holding my hips and pulling me into him, chasing his own pleasure, taking mine with him. Our bodies pulse and fire around one another as Dustin groans into the crook of my neck, his hips pumping as he empties himself inside me.
Satiated and exhausted, we lie together, him still inside me, until the clock over the fireplace strikes midnight.
“Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?” he teases, rolling to his side and slipping out of me. Our bodies stick to each other as we lay amid our discarded clothing and sex-wild hair.
“Depends on what this is going to turn into,” I joke, holding my hand up in the air and admiring my ring.
“Ring pop,” he quips.
I bring the diamond down to my lips and taste it with my tongue. He draws me into him and presses his mouth to mine in a long, sweet, chaste kiss.
“You make me better,” he breathes out, closing his eyes and nuzzling his nose against mine.
“No, I don’t. I just believe in you. You’re the best that ever was. Always will be.”
And I mean it.
Epilogue
Ten years later
It’s not the same kart I started in, but it’s pretty close.
Thanks to my father-in-law and his penchant for hoarding, well, everything fit to store in his massive garage, he had a lot of the old parts from my first kart still hanging around. With some help from Tommy and Douglas, we were able to work this into a pretty bad-ass kart for a pretty bad-ass driver. Now, if I can only get her to keep her damn helmet on her head.