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“Fuck, Junie. I’ll always love how you feel on my dick.” He pushes inside me in one long stroke that presses his balls to my ass.
And he’s moving then, faster and harder with each stroke, taking me apart thrust by thrust.
Just before I come, I throw my arms around his neck, holding on so tight and catching one last glimpse of the sweet blue insanity in his eyes.
“Junie—fuck!” He chokes off with a final thrust that reaches my depths.
Then we’re a clenching, gasping mess, finishing together in rapture.
I’m not sure when I fall asleep after tumbling down in his arms. We both catch a nap before the plane lands in Calgary and it’s time to clean up and put ourselves back together.
Dexter picks up a rental car and drives us the last couple hours to Banff. We climb through the landscape until we reach the small town flanked by mountains and water so clear and peaceful it's breathtaking.
It’s colder here, but I don’t mind. Snow coats the landscape and clings to the hills like whipped cream.
“What’s the verdict? Honeymoon worthy?” he asks. The cabin we’ve picked out is right at the edge of the town, shielded from civilization by the soaring trees.
Then we turn the corner and it comes into view.
I gasp.
“Oh, wow. The pictures didn’t do it justice,” I say. Most of the photos were taken during fall and summer, where the sun and trees set off the little wooden structure nicely. Now, it’s a haven of winter solitude.
“Good thing we packed warm,” he says.
“It looks so cozy.”
Dexter parks out front and glances at me. “Happy honeymoon, Juniper Rory.”
Laughing, I twist the ring around my third finger, reminding myself that’s my name now.
“Happy honeymoon, Dex.” I lean over to kiss him. His lips are warm and eager. “Let’s get the hell inside. We’ve been on the road too long.”
“Yeah. A little late for our wedding night,” he says as we climb out of the car into the sudden chill. It bites my nose and flushes my cheeks. “How about a wedding morning?”
“If you mean ripping my clothes off, that depends if there’s a fireplace.” I grab my suitcase and haul it in.
Of course, there’s an awesome fireplace.
It has the biggest hearth I’ve ever seen and it starts pumping toasty heat the second it’s lit.
The interior looks earthy with splashes of red. The best fit for a Rory honeymoon.
Dexter lifts an eyebrow as he carries the last of our luggage into the bedroom, which has a monstrous bed that takes up half the room by itself.
“Does this suit you, duchess?”
I pretend to think, pressing a finger against my cheek as I look around. “Well, I suppose—”
He tackles me on the bed, pressing his cold nose against my neck until I squeal.
“That flight didn’t last nearly long enough,” he growls, his hips pushing mine into the bed. “Fartoo long to have to wait for my wife.”
“Say it again.” I bite my lip
“My wife.”
I slide my hands under his shirt.
