Page 29 of Merging Wright

When dinner ends, we haven’t finished our bottle of champagne, but I’m done with this table in a relatively public place. Ma must have organized this portion of the evening. We’re headed to the honeymoon suite next.

Inside the room, which hosts a king-sized bed covered in white rose petals, Jane and I stand beside a small table where a new bottle of champagne rests. After popping the cork, I pour us each a glass.

Holding up the flute, I’m ready to toast my bride again when Jane stops me.

“Aren’t we supposed to do something special like entwine our arms and take a drink?” She laughs at her explanation, and I’m reminded of the handfasting Ma did. I’m also reminded the linen is in my pocket.

“Okay.” I hold up my arm and allow Jane to wrap hers around mine, but I’m distracted by the thin straps over Jane’s collarbone that accentuate her slender neck. Not to mention, the back of her dress reveals her spine down to her waist, and I hadn’t seen that portion until our ceremony ended. The pant-skirt combination has had me hard since Jane entered the justice of the peace’s office. My dick reached unprecedented hardness during our make-out session on the car ride here.

We’re finally alone, and I have a proposition for her. “How do you feel about wrecking that dress?”

Our arms are still linked when Jane glances down at the masterpiece hugging her body. “I only plan to wear it once.” Her eyes lift to meet mine. I like her answer.

“To us,” I whisper and tip my glass toward my lips.

Only when Jane lifts hers toward her own, I link the base of my flute with hers, forcing it to shift and spill champagne over her open mouth and down her chin.

“What the hell?” Jane mutters, irritation thickening her voice as dribbles of champagne drop onto the silk of her dress. It’s wrecked alright, and I plan to ruin it more.

“What a mess,” I teasingly chastise. “Let me help you.” Leaning forward, I kiss her mouth, licking her lips to remove the spilled bubbly. Next, I suck her chin, tracing the trail of sticky champagne.

“Mr. Wright.” My name isn’t more than a breathy whisper. All agitation has dispersed. And that title in her smoky, quiet voice is an electric current straight to my cock.

“Jane.” My voice teases her name as I pull back from her lips. Wrapping my hand around her back, I tug the ribbons tied at the base of her spine. “It’s our wedding night. For one night, let’s continue to pretend.”

Her brows pinch, hesitation etched between them. “For one night?”

Only in the car? Earlier, her voice was laced with the same puzzled tone.

“Let me do what I want to you,” I whisper my demand in her ear before sipping kisses down the side of her throat.

Her body shivers, and her flesh pebbles. “What will you do?”

“Anything you want. Everything I want. You can stop me at any time. We can use a safe word if you wish.”

Jane pulls back, her eyes locking on mine as her hand comes to my chest. “Safe word? How about stop?”

I’ve heard her say stop before, although I can’t recall when or where. “I’ll stop whenever you ask, but I’ll also give you more when you beg.”

She eyes me another minute. “The dress might be ruined, but don’t rip it.”

I tip my head, curious why I shouldn’t shred the outfit. If she’s only going to wear it once, what does it matter? Will she destroy the thing after our arrangement is over? The idea of being over with her, though, sours my stomach. To restore the sweetness, I lift my champagne glass and hold the lip at Jane’s mouth. “Drink.”

“You’re going to spill it on me again, aren’t you?”

“Would you like that?”

The blue spark in her eyes answers me. I dribble more liquid than I did the first time and chase the drops, licking along her chin and along the column of her throat before lowering to kiss the stains on her dress.

“Turn around.” I’ve already loosened the slim ribbons at her lower back, and make quick work of unthreading them, exposing her entire back to me. Pressing a hand between her shoulder blades, I bend her forward, so she leans over the small table. Lifting my champagne glass, I trickle more down her spine, then press my lips to her flesh, lapping up the river racing over her skin.

“I want to coat every inch of you in this bubbly, Jane, and celebrate your body.”

“Oh God,” she whimpers.

Christening her with more champagne, I suck at the stream along her vertebrae. Then I lift for her nape and nip her there.

Her knees buckle.