Page 107 of The Wrong Groom

But it feels so fucking right.

I swallow back a groan when Gabriel’s thick cock slips between my legs—not driving inside me yet, just sliding through the slippery wetness that’s seeping from my pussy, coating himself in my arousal.

“Keep your eyes on the crowd,” he commands, low enough that his voice barely reaches me. “Don’t let a single person know what I’m doing to you. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” I nod emphatically, even though I don’t know if it’s true.

With his hands on me, I can barely remember my own name, let alone keep my expression neutral for a room full of people. But no one is even looking in our direction, and I’d promise him anything right now.

Gabriel can probably tell that I’m lying, or at the very least, over-promising. But he doesn’t seem to care any more than I do. He murmurs a low “good girl” as he draws back and lines himself up, notching the thick head of his cock at my entrance, and I hold my breath. I’m so worked up already that the first press of his thick length has my whole body clenching, greedy for him.

“So wet for me,” he breathes, and I can hear the strain in it, how hard he’s working to keep his voice quiet. “My dirty little wife loves when I fuck her in public, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” I whimper, because even though I never would’ve expected to have a kink like this, I really fucking do. This is the kind of thing that not even the spiciest of my romance novels could’ve ever prepared for, the way adrenaline mixes with arousal until my entire body is singing with it, every nerve ending turned up to eleven.

He starts to work his way in, taking his time with a few thrusts rather than driving into me with one harsh movement, but I can tell both of us are impatient. He’s not going inch by inch the way he sometimes does, seeming to trust that my body can take him. And it can. The stretch is more intense when we go faster like this, but I’m slick enough that there’s no resistance. My fingers curl against the railing as my toes curl inside my shoes, my back arching at the onslaught of sensations. I want to cry out at the fullness of it, at how deep he is as he bottoms out completely, but I press my lips together and swallow the sound. That only makes it harder in a way, though, because the pleasure crashing through me has no outlet, building behind my ribs as he draws back and plunges back in.

He fucks me like that for several strokes, pressing all the way in before drawing out almost to the tip. It feels so good that I’m trembling, and he splays one hand over my stomach, gripping my hip with the other to steady me.

“Breathe, sunshine,” he murmurs. “Breathe with me.”

He exhales, and I do too, letting out the breath I’ve been holding as I force my shoulders to loosen. I arrange my features into something that I hope looks the opposite of I’m getting my brains fucked out by my husband at a fancy event, and once I’m reasonably sure I can keep a straight face, I whisper, “I’m good. Keep going.”

Gabriel groans. He pulls back and rocks into me again, and it’s nothing like the way he usually fucks me. There’s no snap of his hips, no hard, driving rhythm that leaves me screaming his name into the sheets. Up here, he can’t do any of that without making what’s going on way too obvious.

He keeps his movements controlled, sliding in and out, and somehow his restraint in this moment drives me almost as crazy as the feeling of him letting go does. Every time he bottoms out, he grinds against me, pressing impossibly deeper, and it feels so much more intense than I expected.

When he hits a spot inside me that makes stars dance in my vision, a helpless sound climbs my throat.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Oh fuck, Gabriel…”

His free hand comes up immediately, casual as anything, tipping my chin toward him as if he’s leaning in to share a secret. The movement turns my face away from the crowd and hides the expression of raw need that I know has slipped past the mask I’m trying to wear.

“You should see yourself right now,” Gabriel tells me, his mouth against my temple, his voice frayed at the edges. “So gorgeous. Falling apart on my cock and not one of them has any idea.”

The words send a fresh pulse of heat through me, and I clench around him hard enough that he groans, the sound muffled against my hair.

“Careful,” he warns, although he’s the one whose control is slipping now. His rhythm falters, his thrusts turning faster and less measured, before he reins it back in. “You keep doing that, and I’m not going to last.”

I do it again on purpose, squeezing tight, drunk on the way it wrecks him—on the knowledge that I can undo this composed, powerful man with nothing but my body while a hundred people mingle beneath us. He curses under his breath and drops his forehead to the back of my shoulder, and I’m viscerally aware of the tension in his body, every line of him taut and coiled. I can feel how badly he wants to let go.

But he doesn’t. Even now, even like this, he takes care of me. His hand stays firm at my hip to hold me steady, keeping me from tipping into the railing, his thumb brushing over the curve of my ass as he fucks me slow and steady.

The tension inside me winds higher, gathering low in my belly, and even without the driving friction of a hard fuck, I know I’m getting close. I bite down on my lip, but a whimper slips out anyway, seeming too loud in the hush of our little corner.

I’m losing it. Losing whatever control I thought I could hold on to. Losing any chance of staying quiet as my legs start to shake. Another whimper escapes, and before I can make an even louder sound, his hand leaves my hip and slides up to cover my mouth, his palm warm and firm against my lips.

“Harder than you thought it would be, isn’t it?” he breathes with a rough chuckle. “Hearing you try to stay quiet is such a fucking turn on, sunshine, you wouldn’t believe it. But I’ve got you. I won’t let anyone hear.”

A rush of relief floods me, accompanied by a spike of pleasure as he fills me up with that thick, mind-melting cock again. I can feel Gabriel shaking too, a sign that I’m not the only one who’s affected by all of this, and that knowledge is that last little push it takes to shove me over the edge.

The air seems to thicken as the pleasure that’s been building with nowhere to go finally breaks, crashing through me all at once, and I come hard. I cry out—I can’t help it—but the sound gets trapped against his palm, muffled and swallowed up before it can reach anyone below. My whole body shudders as my inner walls clench tight, clamping down on him, and I ride it out as he fucks me through the waves of my release, his hand never leaving my mouth.

I feel the moment his own control finally snaps. His hips press deeper, losing the careful rhythm as he chases his own release.

“Mine,” he grits out behind me, his voice like sandpaper, and the possessiveness in his tone makes my stomach swoop. “My wife. All mine.”

He buries himself as far as he can, using the hand splayed on my stomach to pull me tight against his body as he spills into me, his cock pulsing over and over. His forehead drops to my shoulder and he stays there, breathing hard against my skin as his cock twitches one last time.