Hitched (Hitched #1)

I put my lipstick away and turn to face him. "Someone could come in at any moment."

This does not get the desired reaction. He moves closer, hands gripping my hips as he gazes at me with a hungry look in his eyes.

"I locked the door. We have a few moments."

"For what?" Now my voice is thick with desire.

"For this." He lifts me onto the counter with an easy move, hiking up my dress to the very top of my thighs as he spreads my legs and claims my lips with his.

I'm breathless, needy, and in that moment, I don't give a flying fuck who might walk in or what people might say or why we're actually on this non-date to begin with. All I want is him. Inside me. Now.

His fingers move aside the satin cloth of my panties and slip into my wet and throbbing pussy. "I've wanted you since I left the hotel yesterday morning."

Has it only been since yesterday? It seems like so much longer.

"When I saw you in this dress, in this lipstick, all I wanted to do was take it off you. I planned to wait until later, but I can't wait. Fuck me, Kacie. Fuck me now."

I spread my legs wider and push my hips forward. He pulls his fingers out of me, and for a moment I feel empty, but then he unzips his pants, puts a condom on, and shoves his hard cock into me, deep and thick, filling me to the point of almost pain.

"Fuck," I say, smiling. "You feel even better than I remembered." And it's true; he does. My memories don't compare to the glorious man inside me.

His grin turns playful. "Then just wait until I make you come."

"Oh, God yes." I desperately want to come on his cock.

With his hands on my hips, my arms around his shoulders, we move together as we strain to become one, to get closer, to take more of each other and give more of ourselves.

When he's close to coming, he slips a hand between us and uses his thumb to rub my clit, sending pulses of pleasure through my body, sensations overlapping as he rubs and fucks and moves inside of me and on me, and when I come it's hard, fast, sharp and followed immediately by his own orgasm.

I rest my forehead on his chest and catch my breath.

"I could get used to this," he says.

I look up at him and grin. "Don't you want to know if I'm satisfied?" I ask. "If my orgasm was better than last time?"

"I know it was," he says. Cocky bastard.

Then he kisses me again, caressing my face, trailing kisses up my chin until he lands on my lips. "You are a delicious woman," he says, his breath moving on my skin, sending a shiver of desire through my body.

Someone knocks on the door, and he pulls out. We both clean up as quickly as we can and walk out as two women ogle us. I can't help but giggle. "They must be thinking the worst of us," I say.

Sebastian puts an arm around my waist and tucks me against him. "I care not at all what other people think of me, Kacie. As long as you enjoyed it."

"I did," I admit. He holds my chair as I sit, and once he's sitting across from me, I pull out my purse. Wine has already been served in my absence, and I take a sip and think about what I want to say next.

"I brought the papers we need to fill out and sign. Within a few weeks, this will all be behind us."

I hand the neat stack of legalese to him, and he studies each page methodically as I sip my wine and try to keep my hands steady. His eyes are a dark blue—that cobalt blue that first attracted me to him when he came to introduce himself at the bar, and I wish for a moment that he was looking at me and not the stupid papers.

To keep myself busy, I pull a pen out of my purse and push it his way. "There were things I couldn't fill out about you."

He nods, continues to read, and when the server brings us fresh bread with garlic butter, I use the food as the distraction I need to survive such a long silence.

The bread is so good I nearly die of carb addiction right then and there. I eat three pieces before he finally puts the paperwork down and reaches for my hand, which—oh God—has a bit of butter on it.

He sees the butter and the utter horror in my eyes, and instead of just letting go so I can wipe my own hand, he…

Damn. That. Man.

He sticks my fingers in his mouth and sucks. Slowly. Deliciously. And I want to drag him back to the bathroom for round two because I can still feel the ache that having him inside me created, and the other kind of ache that having him pull out of me left.

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