“We did make love like four times.”
“And I still want you.” She grasps me.
I laugh and pull away. “If I didn’t have your surprise waiting, I’d already be inside you. But if let you start that up right now, we’ll spend the morning having sex instead of what I have planned. And in this particular case, I think you’ll want to do what I have planned.”
“Just real quick?” she whispers, stroking me.
I groan, responding immediately and fully to her touch and the sensual, erotic need in her voice. “God, Jo.”
We’re on our sides, facing each other. Her eyes are still sleepy, but sparking with heat.
I push her to her back, and she moves to take me on top of her, but I have other plans. I roll her away from me, and press up behind her. She cranes her neck around, lips hunting for mine as I hook my hand behind the knee of her upper leg. She grasps me and guides me to her seam, and I touch her sex, find her sweet slit wet and waiting for me.
She gasps as I press myself against her. “Wes, god, yes. Please. I want you inside me. I can’t get enough of you.”
I lift her leg up and away, catch hold of her breasts and fill her, feel her tight sex clenching around me. I sink deep, groaning at the wet soft heat of her as she accepts me, deeper and deeper, and she’s writhing against me, silently begging me for more.
“Harder, Wes,” she whispers.
“I thought you were sore.”
She presses fingers to her clit. “Not anymore.”
I give her what she’s asking for—harder thrusts, faster. She groans, loudly, and I clap a hand over her mouth. “Hush, my love.”
“Why? This is our house, we’re home alone.”
I love that she’s taken ownership, that this isourhome.
“We’re not actually alone,” I say.
She whimpers, and then, as I continue to crush hard thrusts into her, making her whole body shake, she crams her pillow against her face, bites down on it to muffle her cries as her fingers fly against her sex and I fill her with myself in wild, desperate thrusts.
Her cries become screams, and even the pillow can’t entirely muffle the sound of her screams as she reaches climax, taking me with her.
Finally, after I’ve emptied myself into her and we’ve caught our breath, she twists to face me. “What did you mean, we’re not alone?”
“The surprise,” I say. “It requires some…set up. So there’s people out in the backyard, setting up.”
Her eyes go wide as she catches the implication. “Wes?”
I grin, caress her flushed cheeks. “My love?”
“Are we getting married today?” She asks.
I just grin.
She scrambles to her knees and clutches my hand in both of hers, excitement energizing her. “Wes? Are we?”
It’s too freaking adorable. “I mean. We could. If you wanted to.” I’m teasing her.
She rolls on top of me and pins my hands over my head. “Answer me, Westley Britton!”
I can’t help laughing. “Do you want to?”
She growls in a weird mixture of laughter and frustration. “I asked you to marry me months ago! Quit teasing me and answer my question, you big brute. Are—we—getting—married?” She shakes me to punctuate each word.
I sit up, easily dislodging her, and stand up with her cradled in my arms. I walk over to the doorwall and pull the curtains aside a couple inches, showing her a glimpse of the backyard. Which is bustling with activity.
