Clearly I hadn’t thought this all the way through.
We were shown our room, which was large with high ceilings, a fireplace, and an antique queen-size bed. Jillian spun around, a huge smile on her face, and I was happy I’d chosen this place. Hope you have earplugs, Bob and Jenny. Or you’re gonna be up all night.
I locked the bedroom door after they left and took off my jacket and the trucker t-shirt. Jillian took her bag, went into our private bathroom, and came out five minutes later wearing the sexiest fucking lingerie I’d ever seen. It was dark red and strappy and lacy and sheer and rendered me completely speechless.
“You like it?” she asked, hands behind her back.
“I fucking love it. It’s not even my birthday.” I went over to her and ran my hands down her arms, up her chest, brushing my thumbs over her nipples. They perked up, and I kept rubbing them lightly. Jillian’s eyes closed and she swayed toward me. I lowered my lips to where they just barely touched hers but didn’t kiss her.
“You’re teasing me,” she whispered.
I smiled. “Ready for your present?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
I pulled it out of my bag and handed it to her. She took it over to the bed, which squeaked when she sat down on it. Looking up at me in alarm, she bounced on it a few times, and the squeaking continued, even louder. “Holy shit, Levi,” she whispered frantically.
I grinned. “Hey. What can we do? It’s an old bed. Open your gift.”
She began to unwrap the package, and I suddenly felt nervous.
“It’s nothing big.”
“Stop it. You didn’t have to get me anything—you arranged this whole night for me.” She took the lid off the box and gasped when she saw the framed photo. “Oh my God.”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it.” She lifted it out of the box and held it up. “I haven’t even seen wedding photos yet—how did you get this?”
The picture was of Jillian and her sisters, Skylar in the middle, an informal shot taken sometime after the ceremony. It was a close-up, and they’d leaned in toward each other, arms around waists, matching blue eyes and huge smiles. “I contacted Sebastian this week, and he put me in touch with Skylar. She’d just gotten digital proofs and sent me this one. I thought you’d like it for your counter.”
“Yes!” She put a hand over her heart. “It’s perfect, because I don’t have a recent one. And it’s beautiful—look how happy we are.”
“You do look happy. And I know how important family is to you.”
“It is.” She looked up at me. “You’re important to me, too, Levi. Thank you so much for doing all this for me.” She set the photo aside and stood up, wrapping her arms around me. “I’m so happy tonight.”
I smiled and hugged her back, wishing more than anything I could make her happy like this all the time. Here, in this beautiful room, only the two of us, it almost felt possible. But it wasn’t real life—it had all been planned and arranged, everything from the distillery tour to the bed and breakfast reservation to childcare. If I asked her right now to run away with me, she’d probably say yes, because she’d think it could be like this all the time. But it couldn’t…I couldn’t. She didn’t know what she was giving up to be with me.
Her hands were sliding up my back, her lips along my throat. “I love you so much,” she whispered.
I slid my fingers into her hair and kissed her ravenously, possessively. She lifted my shirt over my head and unbuttoned my jeans, but I couldn’t bear to take the beautiful lingerie off her yet. When I was completely naked, I caught her behind the knees and shoulders and laid her on the bed, stretching out above her.
It groaned under our weight, and she smiled. “Oh, dear.”
“I don’t care,” I said, kissing my way down her body. “Let’s keep them up all night.”
I’d planned on spanking her, teasing her, tormenting her—making her “pay” for being such a bad girl in the car. But I didn’t feel that way now. I simply wanted to worship her, adore her, devote myself entirely to her pleasure in bed the way I couldn’t in real life. Once we left this place tomorrow, I couldn’t give her all of me.
But tonight I could.
And I didn’t give a fuck about the noise.
She sighed and moaned as I undressed her, then devoured her breasts one at a time. When one hard nipple was under my tongue or between my teeth, the other was between my fingers. She arched and gasped, whimpering as I fucked her with my fingers, and then my tongue, and then used them both on her at the same time, my mouth sucking greedily at her clit as her pussy tightened and throbbed. And she cried out when I slid my cock inside her, my name on her lips, my hands in her hair, my body rocking into hers with deep, powerful strokes.
But nothing was louder than that fucking bed—it whined and groaned and creaked and squeaked, louder and quicker, perfectly matching the rhythm of my hips as momentum built. It went finally, blissfully silent when we came together, the climax paralyzing every muscle in my body, my awareness centered only on the pulse shared between us.
If we hadn’t been so carried away, we probably would have laughed.
Instead she cried, tears dripping from the corners of her eyes as she clung to me, her hands pulling me in tighter to her, as if she couldn’t get close enough. And I understood her tears, fought hard against my own.