Page 27 of Her Wedding Night

“Don’t move,” she whimpers. “Please.”

“I won’t,” I promise.

I have never felt as close to anyone as I do to Lucy in this moment. She’s mine. She saved herself for me. Not her intention, but the truth of this moment. And that knowledge grips me in a way I cannot escape. I am already possessed by the possibility of getting inside her again, being inside her constantly.

“You’re so big.” She pants. “You’re too big.”

Her words have the terrible opposite effect they should. I swell at the mental image of filling her to her limits.

She grips my shoulders, her fingers tight on my skin. “Gabriel!”

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur. It’s all I can say. It’s true.

“Ethan, your dad fucks like a girl. All full of feelings,” someone says in the distance.

Lucy’s brows pull tight. Worried.

No, no, no.

I snap my hips, driving her against the table. Fuck, I don’t want her to hurt. But she can’t think I’m overcome with feelings here, either.

We’re fucking for a reason. We’re fucking to distract them.

I can’t have her know that it doesn’t feel like fucking at all. It feels like making love, like staking a claim. It feels like coming home and leaving on an adventure all at once.

The cock of a gun is an unmistakable sound, though. And it’s followed by a curt order. “Move!”

Lucy gasps, trembling anew.

“Together,” I tell her, gathering her in my arms. “Hold on tight.”

She winds herself around me, clinging as I find a rhythm that feels good but not too good, that I can keep going without losing my mind. I’m holding back, not because I want to, but because I need to, and I’m not pushing all the way inside her, not taking up residence at the entrance to her womb the way I need.

Her impossible tightness eases to a slick, hot snug I glide in and out of with relative ease. At first, all I can hear is the slap of our bodies and her tiny, contained reactions. But then the rest comes back into focus. The waves slapping at the boat. The roll of the ocean beneath us.

And beneath that, the awed, stunned audience. Two of them armed, but there are no more threats. Just hushed and guttural observations. Crude words. Jealous noises.

Every single person on this boat wants to have this. And they don’t. We do.

As public and humiliating as this, there’s a certain twisted pleasure in knowing something so intense, so right, is being witnessed.

Especially by Ethan.

I don’t stop when someone notices that we’re returning to the marina.

I know where the dinghy is. I’m even prepared to pull out and carry Lucy over the side with me if need be.

There’s shouting, and cursing, and then Gilly races past us, up the stairs to the bridge.

I guess he’s not interested in wrecking his parent’s million dollar yacht tonight.

Which only leaves one gun trained on us.

I stroke one hand down to her tits, cupping her flesh. “Come for me, bunny. Be a good girl for Daddy.”

Lucy sucks in a breath as I duck my head, pulling her nipple into my mouth. Her back arches and I let myself go, giving her every inch of my cock. I fuck her fast and hard and deep, over and over again, until I feel her tighten around me.

I suck and fuck her through her climax, then I cradle her in my arms again, needing to see her face as I let go.

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