Page 37 of Pucked In Vegas

She’s sprawled before me like a feast I haven’t even begun to finish.

She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I hover above her, drinking in every inch—the soft curve of her hip, the constellation of freckles across her rib cage.

"What?" she whispers, suddenly self-conscious under my stare.

"I'm just..."

Words fail me and I shake my head. How can I explain I'm memorizing her? Making damn sure that this time, I won't forget a single detail.

Because that's the thing… I don't remember our wedding night. Not really. Just fragments. Flashes of skin. The scent of her perfume that lingered for days.

But nothing concrete about what actually happened between us.

How the fuck is that possible?

Looking at her now, spread beneath me like this. There's no way I wouldn't remember every second, every touch, every sound she made.

"Stop staring and fuck me," she demands, reaching up to pull me down for another kiss.

I laugh against her mouth. "Patience, wife."

The word slips out before I can stop it, and I feel her stiffen beneath me.

"We're not—"

"We are," I cut in, my voice a dark promise as I settle between her thighs. “Right now, we fucking are.”

I reach down and slide my cock through her soaked folds, dragging my length over her clit again and again, coating myself in her moisture. The sound isfilthy,wet and obscene, and it only makes her whimper harder.

She’s drenched.

So damn ready I could bury myself in one hard thrust and she'd take every inch.

Instead, I tease.

I push just the head in, watching her face twist with frustration, her hips chasing mine. My cock throbs in my hand, but I don't give all the way in. Her pussy clenches in anticipation, fluttering with every breath I take.

“Jackson,” she pants, nails raking down my shoulders, trailing over my abs as she tries to guide my hips closer. “Please.”

“Tell me,” I growl, barely hanging on. “Tell me you want this. You wantme.”

Her gaze locks with mine, openly raw and wrecked, and that when I see it.

All of it.No more pretending.

“I want you,” she whispers. “I want this.”

I push into her slowly, letting her tightness consume me entirely.

It's a slow, brutal push, inch by inch, until I'm buried to the hilt in her hot, wet cunt. Her body wraps around me like it’s where I belong, clinging to every ridge of my cock, greedy and tight and fucking perfect.

"You feel like home," I confess against her ear, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest.

She lets out a gasp and rocks her hips up to meet mine, drawing me deeper still.

I start to move, slow at first, then faster as she meets every thrust with equal desperation. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, punctuated by her soft moans and my harsh breathing.

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