Page 71 of The Wrong Groom

She does, and I hold the dish over her chest, tilting it until the melting cream and a thread of chocolate slide toward the rim. She watches with huge eyes, her chest heaving, as it gathers and then slowly slips over the edge.

She jumps and gasps when the first cold drop lands on her breast, but her gaze snaps right back to mine—and what I find there is a hunger I didn’t know she had in her. I tip the dish further, spilling a little more over her pale skin as I watch it run down her breasts and onto her stomach.

“So fucking sexy,” I murmur. “You look good enough to eat.”

Lowering my mouth to her cleavage, I lick a slow stripe upward through the sticky ice cream and chocolate, then drag across to one nipple and draw it in, circling it with my tongue. It tightens instantly, and she hisses, the sound shifting into a needy groan.

Fierce desire roars under my skin as I work my way across her chest, feeling almost drunk on the sweetness mixed with the warm taste of her skin. Goosebumps chase my tongue everywhere it goes, and when I close my mouth over her other nipple and graze it lightly with my teeth, she cries out—much louder than her earlier muffled sound.

“You’re the best fucking thing I’ve ever tasted,” I groan against her skin as she mewls, arching into my touch.

I keep going, pouring the half-melted ice cream and chocolate over her breasts before lapping it off her skin. She must love the contrast between the cold and the heat, because she’s starting to unravel, any shyness melting away as she leans back farther, arching her back as if presenting her breasts to me like a feast. I can’t resist wrapping my lips around them and sucking hard, deep pulls that make her hands fly to the back of my head, her nails digging into my scalp as she whimpers my name.

The effort of staying upright must become too much for her, because she falls back against the table after a while, pulling me down over her. I lick away the last bit of ice cream and finally abandon her breasts, diving in for another ravenous kiss.

I can’t fucking believe we’re here. None of it feels fully real.

My wife is stretched out beneath me, flushed and glowing, and it’s almost more than I can take. I break the kiss and hold her gaze as I find her pussy again, starting off with two fingers this time and going straight for the spot I know will elicit more of those incredible sounds.

“This place should put you on the menu,” I murmur, my fingers moving faster as she bucks against my hand. “Nothing else will ever taste as good. But then again, I’d never let another soul inside this place if they did. Because that taste? It’s just for me, sunshine. As long as we’re married, no one else gets to taste you like this. No one gets to see you like this. No one gets to know what a dirty, perfect girl you are besides me.”

She shakes her head, then nods, her breath coming faster. “Yes. I mean, no. No one.”

I can’t help but laugh roughly. I get the sense that all of the blood has moved south in her body, abandoning her brain to fend for itself as she struggles to form a coherent sentence. I know how that feels, because I feel the same damn way.

“That’s right,” I tell her, not quite sure where the primal possessiveness I’m feeling is coming from, but unable to deny it. “Not a fucking soul.”

“Please…” She squirms on the table, reaching down to grip my wrist as if urging me on. “Gabriel.”

“Please what?”

“P-please—make me come.”

Her pussy clenches around my fingers as she speaks, as if her body is making the case for her. The fact that she needs it badly enough to beg for it, to use her words like that, makes me want to drop everything and bury my cock inside her right now. But I want to do this right. I want her first time to be something she remembers for the rest of her life, for all the right reasons.

I want her to fucking love it.

So I withdraw my fingers from her, drop to my knees, and pull the tablecloth toward me, dragging her right to the edge. More dishes slide off and smash on the floor, and I don’t spare them a thought, because now she’s right where I need her, open and glistening in the bright sunlight streaming through the windows, and there’s no holding back anymore.

I bury my face between her legs and lick her the way I’ve been imagining since she went down on me in that bathroom, reveling in the taste and smell and feel of her.

The breath she was holding rushes out, and a fresh wave of wetness spills across my tongue as she arches up off the table. When I circle her clit and slide a finger into her at the same time, the cry that leaves her mouth fills the whole room.

“That’s it,” I mutter with satisfaction. “Scream for me. Let it all out.”

Her eyes are squeezed shut, but she blinks them open and lifts her head a little, staring down the length of her body at me as she rolls her hips, riding my finger and grinding against my tongue.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. “Oh fuck!”

“You close?” I demand, barely lifting my lips away from her swollen flesh to ask the question.

“Yes. Yes—oh fuck, please⁠—”

“Then come for me, wife.”

“Gabriel!”

My name is the loudest fucking sound she’s made all day, and it sounds so damn good that I feel almost lightheaded as I keep working her with my mouth and my hand, helping her ride out each wave of pleasure as her body jerks and her legs try to clamp down on either side of my head.