Page 71 of Riding Free

To fill me.

“Brock,” I exhale.

He lifts his eyes, not his head, just his eyes. They find mine, and they’re full-on glittering. Good god, this man is beautiful. Absolutely out-of-this-world gorgeous, and I can’t believe he wants me—me. I can’t say anything, though. It’s like my lungs are frozen, or maybe it’s my brain. Only a single word escapes my throat, because that’s all I can come up with.

“Please.”

It earns me a smirk, then a smile as he guides my dress the rest of the way down. It pools at my feet on the floor, leaving me in a pair of silky white panties and nothing else.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Tell me what you want, Keely.”

“You,” I whimper.

He chuckles, then I feel his fingers glide down the center of my chest and belly, and dip between my legs. He hums when he slides them through my folds. I’m wet. I know I am, probably soaking. It feels like he hasn’t touched me in months. Even though I know that’s far from the truth.

It doesn’t matter. I’m ready for him—beyond ready.

“More,” he demands before he slips two fingers inside me.

I gasp, lifting my hands to curl around his shoulders and hold on to him. He chuckles, his eyes never looking away from mine as he begins to curl his fingers inside me. My breathing is heavy, my panting bouncing off the walls of the room around us.

He leans forward, his fingers creating absolute magic between my legs, his thumb joining in against my clit. My hips jerk as his mouth touches mine, and his tongue slides inside, tangling with my own. He fucks my mouth simultaneously as his fingers fuck my pussy.

So. Damn. Good

I want more. I want everything. I want him inside me. I want to taste him. I want him to taste me. I want my husband. Shit, yeah, my husband. A thrill of desire slides up my spine at that thought.

Husband.

Hot.

So. Damn. Hot.

CHAPTER

FIFTY-FOUR

HOUND

Her pussy is warm and wet, so goddamn wet and ready for me. But I want her to come on my hand, on my tongue, and then on my cock. This is our wedding night, and I want her to be satiated.

Continuing to fuck her with my fingers, I move them inside her, drawing circles against her clit with my thumb while working her mouth with my tongue in tandem. I want her to feel everything. I want her to be overwhelmed before her orgasm rips through her. Just thinking about it makes my cock rock hard.

Her nails dig into my shoulders through the shirt that Elodie threw at me before we left. I’m glad she did, because Keely said more than once how much she liked it and how well it matched her dress.

She rips her mouth from mine, and then it happens. I feel her pussy clench around my fingers, and her wetness floods my hand, dripping from it.

She comes.

Her whimper, then moan, rolls from deep within her chest as her hips buck and move. Her head falls back as she rides her orgasm.

I watch, taking in the sight of her in the middle of her ecstasy. Fucking hot. I don’t let her bask in the glow of her release. I need to taste her. Slipping my fingers from between her legs, I lift my drenched hand to my mouth and slip my two fingers inside, licking her taste from my skin.

“Brock,” she breathes.

She seems weak, as if she can barely stand, and I can’t deny I fucking love the idea of that—hard. Almost as much as I’m going to love fucking her—hard, in a few moments. Wrapping one arm around her waist, I pick her up and carry her closer to the bed before I set her down on her feet.

“Sit,” I demand, though not harshly, just insistent, because I am on the edge and ready to lose complete fucking control. I’m trying as hard as I can to keep a grasp on it, but it’s slipping with each passing second.