Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Just as I move to kiss her, the elevator chimes with the arrival to our floor. As much as I’d love to take her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her, the elevator probably isn’t the best place for that. With a little extra bounce in my step, I guide her from the car and down the hall to the room. I have the key card out and slide it over the handle as soon as we arrive, waiting impatiently for that damn light to turn green. It only takes a moment to change, but it feels like a lifetime. Especially because I know it’s the only thing holding me back from being alone with Faith.
My wife.
We slip inside the hotel room, and the electricity crackles around us. I drop her hand and throw the key card onto the dresser before turning and staring. She’s so fucking beautiful, she takes my breath away.
Faith clears her throat and fidgets with her hands. I can feel uncertainty rolling off her in waves. Reaching out, I take her hands in mine and bring them to my lips. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she quickly blurts before clearing her throat once again. “I’m just… I guess I’m a little nervous.”
“Why?” I ask, sliding my mouth across the softness of her knuckles.
“Uhh, things are… different now,” she all but whispers.
“The only difference is we’re married now. We’ve been here before.”
She nods, her eyes dilate as she watches me kiss her skin. As I turn her hands over, I hear her gasp as my tongue slips out and glides across the pulse-point on her right wrist.
“What do you want to do?” I ask, feeling her shudder as I slide my fingers up her palm and link them with hers.
“I don’t… What do you want to do?” A nervous Faith is quite something. I’ve only ever known her to be direct and blunt, taking what she wants.
I stop what I’m doing and meet her gaze. “Honesty?”
“Always.”
“I want to make love to my wife.”
The softest whimper slips from her lips as I pull her toward me, wrapping my arms around her body and feeling her pressing against me.
“What do you want, Faith?” I whisper, my lips dancing close to the shell of her ear.
“I want that too.”
My body simultaneously tightens with need and relaxes in relief. Leaning forward, I brush my mouth against hers, reveling in the moment. I release her hands and gently cup her cheeks, slowly sliding them up and into her hair. The long, dark brown locks slip through my fingers as I deepen the kiss. Our tongues glide together, and I can feel her gripping my dress shirt.
“Faith?” I murmur, refusing to pull my lips from hers.
“Yes?”
“You look absolutely stunning in this dress,” I tell her, my thumb trailing down the slender column of her neck and leaving goose bumps in its wake. “But I can’t wait to see it off you.”
She giggles the sweetest sound. “Likewise. I’ve never seen you look better than you do in your dress blues,” she informs me, reaching down and tugging the bottom of my shirt from my pants as I shrug out of my coat.
My cock jumps with the eagerness of a virgin.
When she reaches for the buttons on my shirt, I grasp her hands gently and bring them to my mouth for a kiss. “Let me savor this moment. If I’m not going to get to see you like this for up to six months, I’m going to need to create a lot of memories tonight, beautiful. I want to memorize everything.”
She pulls back and stands there in her dress. “Do you want to do the honors, or shall I?”
My brain practically short-circuits. On one hand, I most definitely want to do the honors, but on the other, the thought of watching her take off her wedding dress—just for me—has me so hard, I can barely breathe.
Moving to the chair in the corner of the room, I take a seat and try to adjust the discomfort in my groin. I kick my feet up on the footrest, raise my eyebrows suggestively, and wave my hand. “Proceed.” When she reaches for the zipper running along her side, I add, “Slowly, beautiful. Make it hurt.”
As if understanding my request and knowing how difficult it’s going to be for me to just sit and watch her undress, she grins widely and nods.
The release of the zipper is somehow louder than the drum pounding in my chest and the blood swooshing in my ears. My eyes are riveted to her side where she painstakingly slowly drops the zipper, revealing a sliver of her soft flesh. My dick jumps. It actually kicks, trying to get closer to her.
She slips the straps of her dress off her shoulders. Holding her chest, she slides her arms out of the straps and lets them hang. Then, she starts to shimmy out of the bodice, taking her sweet-ass time, just like I requested. Between the pounding in my chest and the pain in my groin, she’s definitely achieving what I requested. Sitting here, not touching her, watching her undress, fucking hurts.