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“Straddle me.” His voice was husky and demanding as he helped me gather up my gown.
As I settled onto his lap, his fingers eased up my legs, caressing them with a soft touch. When he reached my bare sex, his eyes shot up to mine and his fingers entered me.
“You, vixen,” a laugh shone in his eyes, “are so fucking wet. Unbuckle me and lower the zipper.”
When my hands brushed over his hardness, he hissed. I quickly did as he’d demanded, freeing him from his clothes.
His fingers clasped on either side of my waist, and he brought me over himself. “Help me, babe.” He spoke through gritted teeth, controlling his need for me.
When I positioned him in just the right place, he lowered me in one quick move. My breath caught, and I threw my head back, lost to the sensations and sudden fullness.
Relentlessly, he lifted up and down, doing all the work. I braced myself on the back of the seat behind his head. This was hot as hell—nothing like the awkward car sex from my teen years.
“Can you unzip the top of your dress? I want your nipples in my mouth,” he begged in such a sweet, desperate way, I couldn’t say no.
“They’re yours, you wicked devil.” I reached around the back of my dress, pulling the zipper down and letting my boobs do their thing as gravity took over.
Lucas’s mouth was on them in an instant, giving me just what I needed. He continued to control my movements. Each breath came faster. The moans and words spilling from our lips grew wilder, until we reached the place we sought together—where nothing but the two of us existed in the world.
I wanted to collapse on his chest, but he held me up. I would’ve ruined his shirt with my lipstick and smeared it all over my face. That’s why the sexy bastard didn’t kiss me. This hadn’t been his first rodeo.
Lucas removed a handkerchief from his pocket. “What are you, eighty?” I asked.
“No. Smart.” He chuckled. No arguing there. I cleaned up and threw it into the small trash receptacle.
Lucas glanced at his watch. “We have five minutes to de-sex ourselves.”
“Your hair looks perfect,” I said. “The wilder, the better. Though, every woman is going to wish she’d made you look this hot.”
When the driver arrived at the Met, we had returned to our seats, looking like we’d sat still the entire ride. I peeked out the car window and saw the line of photographers waiting for the limos. I tried not to jump up in my seat, but it was no use. I was living the best night of my best life. This was beyond my wildest dreams.
A man dressed in a uniform-style tuxedo opened the door for me, helping me out with an outstretched hand. Lucas came around the car, guiding me with his hand at my back, toward a long red carpet sectioned off with a raised velvet-rope line.
“I can’t believe this is happening to me.” I looked up at Lucas, who appeared nonplussed. I guess this also wasn’t new for him. But he smiled down at me, giving me my moment to feel overwhelmed and excited.
“You’ve never looked more beautiful, Maggie.” He took my hand and squeezed it in his. His words melted my heart and my anxiety. He was all I needed, and I pleased him. Literally.
“And you’re a sex god.” He laughed, but I saw two women staring at him, their jaws on the ground. I smiled at them. Yep, he was mine, bitches.
Just like I’d seen on TV, there was a place celebrities stopped to have press take their photos on the red carpet. When we arrived at the marked spot, Lucas settled his hand on my lower back, turning toward the cameras.
“Who is she?” a reporter shouted. I looked up at Lucas, wondering what he’d say in reply.
“This is Magnolia Talbot, my everything.”
The camera flashes blurred in my eyes. He’d announced to the world I was his.
“What are you wearing, Ms. Talbot?” another reporter shouted.
I glanced up at Lucas, unsure about speaking. He motioned for me to with a nod.
“Oscar de la Renta.” My voice was weak. Nerves.
“Speak louder,” someone yelled, rather demanding.
“Oscar de la Renta. And his creations have never looked better, wouldn’t you say?” Lucas saved me, flashing the cameras his panty-dropping smile. I sighed.
I also noticed those same ladies who’d been checking him out earlier swooning over his comments.
Inside the event space, the lights were dimmed with a sexy, reddish glow. Liquor flowed from waitstaff carrying around trays of champagne.
“Maggie,” I heard the voice of my best friend before I saw her. She looked stunning in a blush pink gown, her blond hair up.
“Tessa, I was worried I’d missed you,” I said. “You look like a pink princess.”
