Page 125 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

I huff a quiet laugh, my heart pounding harder than it should. "You noticed that?"

"I notice everything about you." She finally turns in my arms, looking up at me with those bright, knowing eyes. "Ryland Connor Reeves, you're not as subtle as you think you are."

"No?"

"No." Her fingers trail lightly over my chest, right where my heart is hammering. "Though maybe that's why I love you."

It hits me all at once—how much I need her, how much I never want to wake up another day without this, without her. The words tumble out before I can think, before I can stop them.

"Marry me."

She blinks, lips parting. "We're already married."

"Marry me again." My voice is rough, unsteady. I pull out the ring, the real one, the one I should’ve given her before. "Notbecause of Vegas, not because of bad decisions or impulse or convenience. Marry me because you want to." My throat tightens. "Because I damn sure want to be married to you. Every day. In every way."

She stares at me, her breath hitching, her eyes glassy with something that makes my chest ache.

Then, suddenly, she surges forward, kissing me, her arms wrapping around me.

I pull her closer, sinking into the moment, into her.

Between my arms, Ariana tastes like forever, like home, like every impossible thing I never thought I’d get to have.

My hands slide down her back, feeling the curve of her spine, the warmth of her body pressing against mine. Her breath hitches as I deepen the kiss, my tongue exploring her mouth with a hunger that matches the fire in her eyes.

"Connor," she breathes, her voice a symphony of longing and surrender. Our hearts dance in unison, each beat echoing the other's desire. My hands glide downward, gripping her hips, drawing her close until our bodies meld as one. Her eyes widen, dark pools reflecting the city's distant glow, as she feels the intensity of my need.

"I want you, Ariana," I whisper, my lips brushing her ear, voice husky with yearning. "Here, now, under the starlit sky."

"Yes," she sighs, her breath a soft caress. "Take me, Connor. Make me yours."

I turn her gently, the city lights twinkling below like a canvas of stars, but my world narrows to her alone. My hands explore her form, tracing the curves of her breasts, the valley of her waist, the swell of her hips.

Bending her over the balcony railing, my hands firm on her hips, she looks back at me. Her eyes hold a universe of lust and love, the city's glow dancing in their depths. "You're exquisite," I murmur, my voice thick with desire.

I lift her skirt, revealing lace that barely conceals her heat. My fingers trace the delicate fabric, feeling her arousal. She moans, pressing back against my touch. Slowly, I slide her panties down, and she steps out of them, her body bared to the night and to me.

Freeing myself from my constraints, I tease her entrance, coating my cock in her wetness, and she whimpers out loud.

“Please, Connor," she begs, her voice a desperate whisper. "I need you to fuck me.”

I pull her closer. “I want you to know…fucking you is my absolute pleasure, sweetheart.”

Gripping her hips, I enter her with a single, fluid motion. She cries out, her body bowing, bending against mine, and the sounds of our lovemaking blend with the city's distant hum, creating a symphony of passion. I lean over her, my chest pressed against her back, feeling her heartbeat match my own.

"You're mine, Ariana," I whisper, my voice a low growl that rumbles in the back of my throat. "Mine forever."

She turns her head, capturing my lips in a hard kiss. "Yours," she breathes. "Always yours."

Her body tenses, muscles clenching around me. I reach around, finding her most sensitive spot, rubbing in tight circles, matching the rhythm of our dance. As her climax shatters through her, the sounds of her ecstasy push me over the edge.

I thrust into her one last time, my own release exploding through me.

We stay that way, bodies connected, breathing in tandem until our gasps finally slow. In the aftermath, I trail kisses down her shoulder, her neck, her cheek.

The very knowledge that I can do that—that I can shower my wife with love and devotion and all that she could never need—nearly makes me hard again.

"I love you, Ariana," I whisper in her ear. "More than anything in this world."

---