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Brandi smiles, those green eyes full of heat all their own. “I wore it for you.”
“You did?”
“I figured I’d try and look pretty for our honeymoon.” The slight hesitancy in her tone, mingled with a sweet note of happiness, does all sorts of things to me. Twists me in knots. Stokes the fire within. “And it’s not winter yet.”
Even though it’s getting cold enough outside to freeze balls. Still, the possessive streak that runs through me thrills at the thought she’d worn it for me. She’d had leggings on she’d stripped off after we came in and I got the fire burning, but the dress and its invitation and the effort aren’t lost on me.
“Yeah, well… You’re always pretty to me.”
She laughs, wrinkling her nose. “You have to say that to me.”
“True,” I tell her softly. “Because it’s the truth. And I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Brandi looks at me like I’d just written her a book of poems.
Like I’ve given her everything and anything all at once, including the sun. And my cock stirs in my jeans. Mine. All mine. And I’ve branded her in all the ways that matter. And I want to show her again and again just who she belongs to. I want her naked. In my arms. I want to be buried inside her.
Heat passes between us and she shivers, something I am not about to let go unnoticed. “Cold?” I ask, even though I know that shiver has nothing to do with the temperature outside, and everything to do with the tension between us.
“No.” Her voice is pitched low, impossibly inviting.
“I have ways of making you warm.”
“Is that your attempt at a dirty joke, Travis?” she asks, her gaze sliding over me, the naked appreciation fuel I want.
“Or something.”
I keep my gaze on her as the tension in the cabin grows, the awareness between us a sudden buzz in the air, and I walk slowly, deliberately to her, sliding my hands down her arms, along her hips, and pull her up against me.
“I think, Brandi, you’re wearing too many clothes, as pretty as that dress is.”
“Oh, you think so?”
Her hand lands on my chest as I move one of mine around to her ass, slipping my fingers low over her soft swells.
Her soft little gasp is everything.
And her hand trails down to my belt buckle, then lower still. “I think I’m going to like this part of the honeymoon,” she whispers, rubbing against my growing erection.
“Baby, this is part of marriage.” I keep her there against me, and I slip my other hand down and pull up the dress she is wearing. My fingers find her pussy and I massage her mound, pressing in against the thin material covering it, wanting to feel her naked flesh. I cup her pussy. Christ, the heat of her… “And this, this is mine. Say it, Brandi.”
She sucks in a breath as I work a finger beneath the elastic of her panties and slide it along her folds where she is already getting wet.
“Tell me whose this is.”
“Yours…” Her words come out a moan. “My pussy is yours.”
“Good.” I was going to wait, I really was. But I have my wife, hot and wet and wanting in my arms and this is our time, and I need to sink down into her. I back her toward the bed and then push her down. I want this time hard and fast and dirty. “Spread your legs for me.”
She does as she is told, and I pull her panties to the side, taking in the sight of those pink folds. Christ. “You’re so beautiful, baby, so beautiful.”
I trace my fingers over her and she quivers, making my cock grow harder.
“Travis…”
“Yeah?”
“I want you.”
