Page 120 of The Wedding Menu

He rolls his tongue up and down leisurely, his fingers tightening around my hips every time my back arches and my feet press against his back.

“I’m—it’s so good, so—” I swing my hips, rushing toward the orgasm Ian is keeping out of my reach. His tongue is sinful, jolting against my clit with erotic wet noises. It’s so unfair, after how long I’ve waited, that the man who can definitely give me pleasure would decide to measure it out.

“Relax, beautiful.” His tongue pushes and releases in quicksurges against my clit, my legs shaking against his shoulders as the sheets crumple in my fists. I need to findsomethingto hold me anchored, but as my forehead glistens with sweat, and pressure builds in my stomach, I can feel my control being swept away. I can feel myself flying.

His finger pushes against me, then slides inside, thrusting in and out until he rubs a spot that makes my eyes cross. It’s my undoing. My whines turn into begging, and, squeezing his head with my thighs, I go under. “Don’t stop—don’t do—”Anything differentis what I meant to say, but an orgasm bursts through my body, my pussy clenching around his finger, against his mouth. My muscles tense up and relax in sweet, demolishing waves for so long it’s like it’ll never stop.

When it wears down, my whole body seems made of rubber. His hands stroke my thighs, his lips brushing my skin softly. Wiping my forehead, I look down at him. He’s smiling—not smug, just pleased. And he should be.

“Watching you come is…” He shakes his head, a hungry expression on his face, then his mouth is dancing with mine again as he leans forward. “If I were keen to share, people would pay for a ticket to watch.” Dragging his fingers up, he taps my bottom lip. Once my mouth is open, his fingers slide in, slick in my orgasm. I taste myself on him, my tongue swirling around his fingers as he exhales. “But this show is only for me, isn’t it?”

I nod. I can still feel my climax tingling through me, my heart beating fast as he removes his fingers and I catch my breath. “You made me come.”

“It wasn’t that difficult either. Whoever failed before must have not spent more than two minutes trying.”

“Ha-ha.”

“I mean it,” he says with a chuckle. “Look.” He stands, thengrips my ass and slides me across the bed. Once he kneels between my legs, I almost come all over again. He’s so hot, all dressed in his blue sweater, with his jeans barely containing his erection, while I’m naked and undone in front of him.

“This is your favorite,” he says. He leans down and presses his tongue against my clit, swiping through me and sucking the endless flow of pleasure. Once again his fingers grasp the backs of my thighs and his shoulders push my knees apart. “Oh—okay. You’re right, that’s my—”

He lets my legs go and pushes his finger inside as I jolt. “And this”—he rubs his finger again and again against the same spot until my hips jerk up and I cry out—“this is your G-spot, beautiful Amelie,” he says with shallow breaths.

His mouth wraps around my clit again, and everything turns dark as my eyes close and my fingers bury themselves in his hair.

I catch my breath from my second orgasm of the night as I watch Ian, still dressed, still crouched between my legs. I’ve officially been doing sex all wrong until today.

“What are you doing?” I ask when the tickle of his lips turns into a light sting on my inner thigh. “You can’t feed off humans without asking for consent, Dracula.”

He lets go for a moment as he looks into my eyes. “I’m giving you a hickey.”

“Why?” I giggle as he continues sucking, then I let my head drop. I guess he’ll tell me once he’s done.

Not even a minute later, he sets my legs down and lies on top of me, holding himself up on his elbow. “So that you’ll have a mark from me. One only you can see.”

His soft sweater presses against my hot skin as his erectionrests on my waist, and I trail my hands down his firm body, then unbutton his jeans. “I’m sorry I made this so difficult,” I whisper. I feel so silly now. Of course sex with Ian would be amazing. We’ve only just begun, and it’s already the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.

Smiling, he kisses me. “Are you referring to the last few days, or the year before that?”

“I take the apology back.”

He rises to his knees between my legs, hands clenched on the sides of his sweater. “Can I take this off, or will you freak out again?”

No, I need him to take his clothes off. I need to see his tattoos, trace them all with my tongue, bite those thick thighs and arms and those delicious pecs. I want his skin on mine, our sweat mixing, our breaths scorching each other’s body.

I pull myself up and unzip his jeans. His sweater comes off, so I push him off the bed and pull his jeans down.

Fuck, this man. He’s perfect. His diet of cheap snacks and fork-free meals works wonders on him, because as much as my eyes scan him all over, I can’t find a spot that isn’t toned and hard. Those arms—I want them moving me from one position to the other. I want his wide chest against mine as he presses me on the mattress; I want to hold on to his neck as he plunges inside me and I bite his shoulder to smother my cries.

When his lips move, I force my brain to reconnect. “What?”

“Ask me again.” His eyes flicker as he touches his erection over his briefs. “Beg me, Amelie.”

What—oh. I bring my hands to his perfect chest and move my mouth to his, our eyes on each other’s. “Fuck me, Ian, please,” I whisper.

He lets out a strangled noise as I’m settled onto the bed, his body trapping me under him. “Yes, Amelie.”

Locking my arms behind his neck, I spread my legs wider tomake space for him, his hard cock rubbing against me from beneath a thin layer of cotton. Our conversation about dirty talk comes back to me. What was it he told me to say? “Use me as your dirty little fuck toy.”

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