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It’s been a while since I’ve been with a man, and the others were boys compared to Spencer.
To be fair, my experience is limited. There was Patrick, and before him, my high school boyfriend, whom I lost my virginity to.
Apart from a few kisses here and there, nobody else really even hit the radar.
Until Spencer.
And now it feels like he’s the only one who ever really deserved to be on the radar.
I claw onto his shoulder as he fingers me, the edges of pleasure folding in on me, and then it all stops. He pulls his finger out, and he reaches down for the bottom of my dress. He pulls it over my head in a quick swoop until I’m standing in front of him wearing just my black panties and bra set, and he backs up a pace and stares at me.
He shakes his head a little as his eyes move to mine. “Jesus Christ, I’m the luckiest man alive.”
I can’t help it. The needy ache pounding at my core prompts me into action, and I leap at him.
His words are everything, and while my previous relationships were fine, nobody has ever given me the sort of reassurance and encouragement Spencer Nash does.
He catches me with a grunt, and my legs hook around his waist as I cradle his jaw between my palms and lower my mouth to his. He thrusts his rather hard cock up at me, and I’m in a frenzy to get to the part where we’re both naked and he’s sliding into me.
We don’t have a ton of time—later we will, sure, but right now, we’re at a wedding. We need to get back downstairs before anyone realizes we’ve gone missing, before his family starts making assumptions about our whereabouts, even though they all still believe this is a business deal more than anything.
Somehow it’s become more to both of us, and as I kiss him and move my hands from his jaw to wrap my arms around his shoulders, it feels like the kind of thing that could last forever.
He shifts us, walks across the room, and leans down until I feel the cool comforter under my back. He backs off me as I bend my knees and set my feet right at the edge of the bed to watch his every move.
He shakes off his tux jacket and tosses it on the floor, and next comes the tie and the cufflinks. He works the buttons on his shirt next, and he tosses that on the floor, too, along with the undershirt he wore.
He stands in front of me in just his black slacks as he kicks off his shoes, and my eyes zero in on those abs.
Good Lord.
I’m married to those abs.
I’m about to get banged into oblivion by those abs.
I think I’m in love with those abs.
Scratch that.
I’m definitely in love with those abs. And the man who owns them.
He unbuckles his belt and drops his slacks next, and then he stands in just a pair of black boxer briefs with a giant bulge in the center.
I draw in a shaky breath as I wait for him to return, and when he does, he slides his palms from my ankles up my calves, along my knees, and down my thighs until he hooks his thumbs into my panties. He drags them slowly down my legs, tossing them on top of his pile of clothes, and he pushes my knees apart to give himself a bird’s-eye view of my pussy.
A groan rises up from his chest, and I swear I’ve never felt a throb quite like the one that pulses at his needy sounds.
I watch him carefully, not sure what his next move is going to be as I clutch the sheets between my fists.
“Fuck, you look so hot right now.”
He leans down and pulls me up a little to unhook my bra, and once it’s on the floor with the rest of our clothes, he buries his face between my breasts. I let go of my grip on the bedding to pull his face into my chest, and he moves over a little to suck one of my hard nipples into his mouth.
“Yes, Spencer. Yes,” I murmur.
He runs his tongue back and forth over the tight bud while he makes a similar movement with his thumb on the other one, and I thrust my hips up as I try to find some relief from the pressure between my thighs, some friction, something, anything to alleviate the pain there.
He shifts his hips back out of my reach, continuing the teasing on my nipples, and I make some sound of desperation that’s enough to spur him into action.
