She grins. “It’s hard not to be impressed with you, Mag. You just have a tendency to be annoyingly driven.” She’s quiet for a minute. “But the way I feel about you is so intense. I knew you were the one.”
Right. She just summed up my feelings.
In no time, I park the car and we pass the doorman and go into the building. Once we get to the elevator, I sweep her up in my arms.
She’s laughing so hard she’s clutching her sides.
“This is so unnecessary. We’re not even married yet—it’s kinda early to carry me over the threshold!”
I kiss her. “We will be, and I’ll do it again then.”
Her lips lock around mine. Her kiss is so intense that I have a hard time opening the door. She starts peeling my shirt off before the door even swings shut.
“Damn. I’ve corrupted you so much, and I love it,” I snarl.
The only response is my shirt hitting the floor.
We leave a trail of clothes from the front door to the bed.
Brina’s knee brushes my bare hip as she straddles me. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly open. This beautiful angel of mine fully intends to lower herself down over me and wring my balls empty.
Not yet.
I need her fucking under me.
Drawing in a rough breath, I hook a thumb under her arms, and flip us over so her back is flat against the mattress and I’m poised over her. I find her lips and drink in a languid kiss, pulling a moan from her lungs.
“Not our first time engaged, sweetheart.”
She giggles and both her hands come to my face.
“We do this so often. I’m not sure how it could ever be mistaken for a first.”
I take her left hand in mine, bring it to my lips, and kiss the new ring.
“You’re wearing my ring, sweetheart. I’d call that a first.”
She smiles. “It’s important to you, isn’t it?”
“You have no damn idea,” I whisper, thunder in my throat.
She leans up to find my lips. I take her mouth again, kissing her until she trembles with hunger. When I pull away, it’s only so I can trace my tongue down her neck to the top of her cleavage.
“Oh—oh!” she gasps.
That’s all the encouragement I need.
I kiss along the slope of her breast, coming to her nipple, lavishing my tongue over it in worship.
She sucks in a harsh breath so hot I almost lose it on the spot.
“Mag-nus!”
The sound of her voice, the way she says my name like two words—the hard ridge of my body strains, but I’m holding the fuck out.
I’ll make this last or die trying.
We’re going to remember this night, mark my words.
I pull her nipple deeper into my mouth, rolling my tongue across the tip, stirring her to pieces.
Eager fingernails dance through my hair and drag down my back, a call to pure fuckery.
My lips are savage explorers, kissing under her breast, down her belly, inhaling her scent and relishing the fever it brings.
“What are you doing?” She giggles.
“Nothing—” I plant a kiss on her hip bone. “You won’t—” I trace my tongue across the seam where her pelvis meets her torso. “Like,” I finish.
“I need you so bad,” she whimpers.
I spread her lips open and find the pearl of her clit. She arches into my kiss, so I add pressure as I flick my tongue over it.
She’s suddenly too breathless for words.
I go to town, lashing her nub with my tongue, sucking and flicking her straight into paradise.
Brina’s legs dangle over my shoulders, and I adore how they shake.
It’s all the encouragement I need. Running my tongue from that sensitive ball of nerves downward, I find her opening.
Her legs tremble as I press my tongue inside her.
God. She’s always so sweet.
My body aches with every taste.
I want her—need her.
But she’s arching into my caresses with a heat like the sun. Begging for more.
My need will wait.
Her body tightens, thighs locking my head in place.
Her legs shake against my back.
“Oh—oh—oh.” Her voice is a bit quieter on each staccato sound.
I can’t take it anymore. Burying my face between her legs, I bring her off in a screaming mess, loving how she grinds against my face.
The instant her breath settles and her pussy stops convulsing, I reposition us so her legs pinch my waist.
Then her mouth is mine again as I sink into her wetness, a rough groan ripping out of my throat.
I’m buried to the hilt in my fiancée and my tongue holds her hostage.
Not enough. I still need more.
When my hips go to work, pummeling her into the mattress and I taste her first scream, that’s when we’re in the zone, right where we’ll always belong.
We drive on, fused together, her matching my pace for a good, long while.
My body tightens like a spring with every stroke, a whipcord of muscle pistoning against her, rocketing us higher, upward, into cloud fucking nine.
I batter her as long as she can take, but the second I feel her tighten on my cock again, it’s over.
She screams my name, digging her nails into my skin as she finds her release.
I roar mine, tugging at her hair.
Everything fragments into white-hot fury, and I’m coming so hard there’s nothing left but stars.
Nothing but fire pouring out of me, deep into her.
Nothing but her flesh and mine, and this feral urge to mark her hard and deep, to plant the first seed of our family soon.
Fuck me senseless. An entire lifetime with this woman and ten babies won’t be enough.
In the morning, when I open my eyes, still stiff from fucking half the night, she’s staring up at me.
I press my lips to her forehead.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Awhile. You were right.”
“Always. But about what?”
She snickers and kisses my chin.
“That was a lot like the first time, but better.”
I draw her in, folding my arms around her.
“I love you,” I whisper. “A little more with every breath.”
“I love you too,” she says. “As much as I’d like to stay here all day...I have to see my parents. Mom will be crazy to get started on the wedding plans.”
“Let her have at it. Should I tag along? I’m eager to get started on being the best—and only—son-in-law she’ll ever have.”
Brina grins like a sunbeam. “Please? The more distractions from Mom-zilla, the better.”
“Already done, sweetheart,” I tell her, kissing her so deeply I know what’ll always be the hardest part of our days together.
Letting go.
29
Sea Queen (Sabrina)
Weeks Later
“Hold your breath!” Mom pulls the zipper of the trumpet dress up.
“This is so over the top,” I huff out.
“Brina, baby, I’m a writer. You have to indulge me. Plus, you have a way better body than I did when I got married.”
“For real, no one looks good in a trumpet dress,” I whine, hiding my face behind my hands.