The Accidental Marriage: Chapter 11

Lareina’s eyes grow wide, a question fleeting in their depths, as though she can’t believe what she just heard. Or perhaps she just can’t digest my words at the moment. But surely she didn’t think she could throw out a challenge and not be met with some pushback?

I trail more kisses along the taut skin of her neck, inhaling her scent. She smells so good—shampoo and citrus and warm female flesh. Tastes amazing too, like her skin was soaked in honey. Shivers run through her. She moans softly, one hand digging into my hair and the other clutching my shoulders.

My callused fingertips graze along the delicate lines of her collarbones. I keep my touch featherlight, teasing. She moves her legs restlessly, breaths shuddering in and out of her as she loses herself in the fire I’m kindling in her blood.

Wherever my fingers touch, I follow with my lips, licking and sucking. The more I taste her, the more I crave her. She’s like fine whiskey in my blood, fiery and intoxicating.

Moaning, she shifts in her chair, squeezing her legs together as though to ease an empty ache. Carnal triumph curls in my belly at her reaction. I draw the lapels of her robe aside, revealing the sweet slopes of her breasts. Her nipples are the color of ripe raspberries. My mouth waters. She’s feminine perfection, supple, warm and stunning.

She twists subtly under my hot gaze, her body undulating, beckoning me. Her lust-glazed eyes beg for more.

She says she’s never done it, but she’s more sensually demanding than any woman I’ve been with. The stark honesty in her desire is the hottest aphrodisiac.

I raise my hand, letting it hover over a breast, so close that I can feel her body heat, but not touching. I look at her, cocking an eyebrow in silent inquiry. I don’t just want her to want it. I want her to admit it.

Her throat works as she swallows, then nods.

“Good girl,” I say, voice full of wicked satisfaction.

I close my hand over her breast. Our marriage may be fleeting, but for the moment, Lareina is mine.

Mine to possess, mine to devour, mine to defile, corrupt and worship.

I knead the silky weight gently, stroking the upper and lower curves with my thumb as though they’re the wonders of the universe. Her eyes flutter shut as she throws her head back and squirms. A rosy flush in her cheeks spreads all the way to her chest. Her breathing grows shallower, and my cock hardens impossibly at the signs of her rising arousal.

Her eyebrows knit, as though she’s torn between the desire to keep going or stop. Maybe she wants both at the same time, from the way she’s biting her lip.

I bite back a curse as she digs her fingers into my shoulders, then arms, silently begging and urging. The movement is earnest but clumsy. Shock colors the small gasps and moans tearing from her gorgeous mouth. She says she’s never had sex, but she’s twenty-nine. She couldn’t possibly—

“Have you ever fondled yourself?” I ask.

She blinks, her eyes hazy with need. “What? No.”

“You’ve never even masturbated?”

Her cheeks grow redder. “No.”

I narrow my eyes in disbelief. “Why not?”

“Don’t want to get caught. People tend to barge into my room, and—”

“Nobody’s barging in now.”

“I thought we were supposed to be kissing? Masturbation isn’t a kiss.” Although her voice is breathless, she tilts her little chin primly, her eyes flashing with a challenge.

I pinch her nipple, drawing a long moan from her. “Neither is this,” I taunt her, gently tugging at the tip.

Her back arches like an electric jolt is running up her spine. Her legs rub against mine restlessly.

“Take your hand and touch your breast. Experiment. Make yourself feel good for me, baby,” I whisper, as wicked as the devil tempting the innocent.

She stares at me as though I’ve suggested the unthinkable, but I merely look back at her, silently promising a reward for her compliance.

Licking her lips, she raises a shaky hand and cups her breast. The vision of her smaller and softer fingers kneading the creamy flesh overheats my blood. Uncertainty and desire war in her blue and green eyes.

“This is weird,” she whispers.

“Does it feel bad?”

She considers, then shakes her head. Still, her movements are too tentative. I take her index finger and rub it across her nipple. It puckers and beads under my gaze and the touch. A shudder runs through her, her finger growing tense under mine. Her legs squeeze my hips. Vulnerability and lust mix in her gaze, and her pelvis undulates, testing my already slippery control.

I take a tight rein over myself. No way am I letting a virgin make me lose it. It isn’t about my ego or her challenge. I want her to feel good, experience the carnal pleasure between a man and woman.

I want her to feel glad she chose me to be her first.

“How does it feel?” I ask, as I continue to run her fingertip over her nipple.

“Amazing,” she says shakily.

“Good girl.” I shoot her a smile, appreciating her honesty. The naked sincerity in her response stirs a protective instinct in me, and I want to spoil her senses.

I rub my cheek against the soft mound of the breast I’ve been toying with. When my stubble brushes against the nipple, she writhes in shock, her cry loud with pleasure, tinged with apprehension.

“What’s wrong, wife?”

“It’s just… It feels too intense.” She flushes. “Maybe a little scary?”

Her response is like a bucket of ice water. I can’t treat her like my exes who’ve had plenty of experience. Am I being too rough, too inconsiderate?

I realize I’m inexperienced about being somebody’s first. Sudden vulnerability and anxiety clench around my heart, making it ache.

She looks at me shyly. “Can you kiss me?”

I take her mouth tenderly, fusing my mouth with hers in a sweet gesture of mutual pleasure and reassurance. She wraps her arms around me and kisses me back, her tongue stroking mine. Her honeyed flavor intoxicates me, and I continue to kiss her while I stroke her, exploring her sensitivity.

I trail my mouth along the high cheekbones, the taut line of her jaw and the fluttering pulse point in her neck. The breaths she lets out are shaky with building pleasure. She still clings to me as though she’s lost in a big, turbulent sea, but only blissful need sparkles in her eyes—without any hint of apprehension.

Yes.

I travel lower, shower her breast with hot kisses, then suck her nipple into my mouth, wanting to push her higher. She cries out at the wet heat. I nip gently, then lick to soothe. I put my hand over hers, which is lying limply over her other breast, then massage the soft mound, rubbing the pad of my thumb over the rosy peak.

I shift my eyes upward and meet her gaze, dazed with pleasure and greedy for more. Her whole body shivers, her hips rocking against me. From the way she hangs on, I don’t think she realizes what she’s doing, simply riding the building wave of ecstasy.

The sight is magnificent. I laugh softly, her nipple still in my mouth. The vibration seems to drive her even crazier with need. Her fingers rip at the armrests.

I pinch her other nipple. “Ride it out,” I order her, letting her know it’s more than fine. “Chase the orgasm.”

“I can’t,” she whimpers. Tension winds around her tightly, but she resists, uncertainty fleeting across her face.

“Sure you can.” I squeeze her small hand over the breast, giving it firm pressure, then suck on her nipple hard, my cheeks going hollow.

She screams, her spine arching. Every muscle in her body tightens—and then she turns to a soft goo as a satisfied sigh comes from her sweet little mouth. Her eyes remain closed as she savors the descent from her climax.

Her first orgasm.

The idea wrecks me. Exhilaration pumps through my heart. My cock is so hard, it’s painful. At the same time—

“That was fun, wife.” I force a light grin to hide my rising possessiveness. Her coming just from my playing with her tits is probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. How could she have denied herself for so long when she’s this sensitive? She wants sex from me? Fine. I’m going to enjoy spoiling her in bed, filling her senses with pleasure only I can give as her husband.

“Fun…?” she repeats weakly.

“Uh-huh.” I press a kiss on her still-trembling belly, then pull her closer until she’s perched at the edge of the chair, her legs spread wide with my hips against hers. Her robe is mostly undone. Meanwhile, mine is still neatly tied at the waist, although there’s no way she can miss the thick length throbbing against her wet core.

I place my hands on her warm knees and spread them wide. The slick flesh between her thighs pulses, and I can’t look away from the sight of her need. Her muscles tremble again as expectation builds, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Anticipation and embarrassment war over her flushed face. Her toes curl and uncurl, and I can’t help but smile.

My eyes on hers, I press my mouth over her pubic bone. Her scent is stronger here, hot and sweet. She swallows, licks her lips. I cock an eyebrow, my mouth unmoving. I want her to give her a chance to pull back.

Except she doesn’t. She stays immobile, holding her breath. I wrap my fingers around the sides of the chair, and she takes in my face, poised over her most sensitive, untouched flesh.

I’m dying to taste her, make her feel good, feel her spasm under my mouth and tongue. Steady, I tell myself. I want her to admit she wants this. I want her to know who’s giving her oral for the first time.

I drag a finger down the folds, from the tip of her clit all the way to her opening. Her muscles clench, and she lets out a soft sigh, her hips jerking. I smile at the glistening fluid on my fingertip and lick it with even a bigger grin. “Sweet.” I slide my eyes toward her. “You’ve never tasted it, have you?”

She shakes her head.

I push the finger into her again, more deeply. Her muscles contract around it. Holy shit, she’s tight. And so hot. I burn as I look at her. “Want a taste?” I offer her the finger.

Her eyes on mine, she nods. I gently brush my finger over her lips, smearing the clear liquid over them like lip gloss. She flicks her tongue out for a taste, then frowns a little. “Salty.”

I laugh softly. “You’re wrong, wife.”

The proprietary way “wife” slips from my lips this time stuns me. Surprise flickers in Lareina’s eyes as well, quickly followed by a vulnerable hope.

Suddenly I don’t want to deal with any sort of expectations from her about our future. We’ve already established that we’re going to divorce, and it’s best to stick to the plan. Sexual compatibility is no reason to stay together, even if my cock has never been this hard before.

No. This moment is all about sex. I close my mouth over her. Taste her slick honey. Her arms shake, her fingers digging harder into the chair. My breath fans against her worked-up flesh. When I run the flat of my tongue over her folds and tease her clit with the tip of my tongue, the muscles in her legs quiver. She clenches the chair, letting out uneven, labored breaths.

Her eyes flutter shut. She bites her lip as though she’s trying to control how much pleasure she’ll allow herself to feel—she won’t be caught unaware like before, getting thrown up in the climax.

Oh no you don’t.

I pull her clit into my mouth and suck hard, then use my tongue like I’m rolling a piece of candy. She twists at the onslaught of pleasure, crying out. Her heels dig into my back, and I work her harder, loving her naked reaction, reveling in making her lose her mind with bliss.

Her legs quiver as she tries to close them around my head. Oh yes, baby, yes. Rock yourself against me.

I push a finger inside her, parting the tight flesh. She trembles, squeezing her dripping pussy around my digit. I push it even deeper, until I find the little bump.

I rub it and am rewarded with “Oh my God!”

“It’s Ares, baby,” I say with a laugh.

She twists under me. “Stop. It’s too much, please,” she sobs, although her legs are clenched tight around my head, and her fingers are dug deep into my hair, pressing me tighter against her. Then she cries, “Please, please!”

My lips and tongue give her what her body is demanding. She tenses, then bows her back as she climaxes again with a sharp cry. Her grip on me is almost painful, but I love her unabashed enjoyment of the orgasm.

As she floats down from the high and relaxes, I lift my head, then run the back of my hand over my wet chin and mouth before ravaging her mouth. She tastes like a woman well pleasured, all soft and languid like heated honey. It goes straight to my head, driving me wild. She wraps her legs around me as I pick her up, and we fall on the bed together.

My robe parts, my cock pressing against her soaked flesh. It feels so damn good that even my scalp tingles. My dick pulses against her, like it has its own heart beating inside. I continue to kiss her, my tongue stroking hers, as I fight for control.

She seems determined to destroy it; she clings to me, digging her nails into my shoulders. She presses her feet flat on the mattress and rocks against my cock. Electric jolts shoot through me, one after another, to the rhythm she sets.

Siren. Mine.

“Yes, Princess,” I groan.

“Not Princess. Queen,” she corrects me breathlessly. “I’ve always hated the term princess—pretty but helpless.”

My muscles tense. Every time she talks like this, it reminds me of Queen, except she isn’t Queen, and I shouldn’t confuse the two. Queen wouldn’t show up this easily into my life again. Not after being hidden for twenty-two years.

Focus.

Not wanting to associate my temporary wife with Queen, I bury my face in the crook of her neck and rock harder and faster, making sure my cockhead bumps her clit each time. She lets out a whimper, then slaps at my shoulders as though to protest that she can’t endure another orgasm.

Yes, you can and you will.

I pull her earlobe into my mouth and nip.

Every cell in her body clenches, and she sobs as another peak wrecks her. She holds me as though she will never let go. Her desperation should make me pull away; instead, it pushes me over the edge.

A deep groan tears from my throat, and I lose myself in climax as shudder after shudder racks me. When I can drag air in again, I push myself up on my hands and take in the sight of my cum splattered all over her belly. My mark on my woman in the most primitive sense. She flushes under my gaze, and there’s a hint of vulnerability in her eyes as she looks down for a moment. My skin feels overly tight, like it can’t contain the abrupt swelling of possessiveness.

I cradle her face, kiss the tip of her nose and forehead, while smearing more of my cum all over her like a wolf marking his territory. She doesn’t protest. Instead, she kisses me back just as passionately.

“Did I pass?” I ask after a while.

She blinks slowly. Then a mischievous grin curves her swollen lips. “Lemme think about it.”

I cock an eyebrow, taking in her heated face. “Need more demonstration?”

Her cheeks turn rosy again. Need glimmers in her eyes, followed by a hint of surprise. “How could I want more?”

“Because it feels unbelievably great?” I tell her, lightly flicking my index finger over her small nose.

“Yes, but… No. I don’t need more.”

Her firm rejection sends an unexpected—and uncharacteristic—disappointment through me. I’ve never craved more time in bed with a woman before. If the other party didn’t want it, no big deal.

“We need to get out of Vegas before our stalkers find out where we are,” she says, then gives me a saucy look. “But later…we can investigate the matter between us more thoroughly.”