Page 57 of Almost Had You

“That’s a yes?” I ask, taking her cheeks in my hand, wiping her tears with my thumbs.

“Panda,” Clover says, throwing her hands around my neck, making me fall backward on the stage. We kiss for what seems like forever, her tiny body on top of mine, the cool sting of the ring metal on my face. She’s mine. The happiness is so complete and satisfying that I know nothing will ever compare to this moment.

We’re broken from the moment when we hear cheers and whistles. I sit up, Clover staying on my lap as I turn to see our friends watching us. Clover is a little tousled, and I’m a lot turned on, but she stands in front of me and throws her left hand in the air.

“I got the man!” she says. “We’re gettin’ hitched!”

Swooping her into my arms, I carry her off the stage and into the waiting truck I had Preston arrange earlier in the day. She claps her hands and squeals as she examines her hand. “I love you so much.”

“Ma’am,” I say, using a firmer tone. “I love you, too, but we have a couple i’s to dot and t’s to cross.”

Her gaze flicks up to mine and when she knows immediately what I mean and her eyes melt into a longing, ache-filled possession.

I swallow hard and throw the truck into drive. “Buckle up.”

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Clover spins once she’s in the middle of the room at the bed and breakfast we just checked into. I close the door without taking my eyes off her. “Define best sex of your life as it pertains to a virgin,” she replies to the statement I just made.

I pull off my uniform and toss it over a chair before saying, “You already fucked my cock. This is just a formality.”

Clover takes a deep breath. “You’ve been planning this for far longer than I imagined. The taking of my virginity, that is.”

I pull off my white undershirt and my socks. “I plan everything. Some things are more enjoyable to plan than others. Like the proposal.”

“Which was perfect. I can’t believe you recorded that so long ago,” she says, gaze trailing over my body. She takes her time, commits body parts to memory. The scent of a fresh floral bouquet fills the room and there’s a faint chirp of a whippoorwill outside the curtained window.

“I wanted to do it the day that, ah, your bird escaped,” I say, walking back because I don’t want to think about that day in this moment. “Tonight, it went better than I planned for. It’s my mom’s ring. I don’t know if I mentioned that in between make-out sessions. They’ve known this entire time that I wanted to ask you to marry me. I wanted to do it before I left, but I was afraid that you’d think it was too rash a decision. Or worse, that I was doing it to keep you tied to me only because I was deploying. Even your parents knew and approved…eventually.”

Clover closes the space between us, her palms grazing my pecs. “Mercer, you know me better than anyone else and you managed to do that in a short amount of time. I trust you. The amount of time we spent loving each other is irrelevant at this point. Now we have the rest of our lives to coat each other with kisses and make every single memory together.”

I rest my hands on the only safe spot, her shoulders. Anywhere else, and the hunger would take over completely. “For the first month after I left, I asked myself why now? Why couldn’t we fall in love back in our teenaged years and have spent all these years together up until now.” I shake my head. “That’s not how it works. Love doesn’t say when. It says how. And the how of it, Ms. Wellsley, is you are the most magnificent person in the entire world.” I eye the large bed over her shoulder. “Would you do me the honor of handing me your virginity.” I wink. “On a silver platter would be nice.”

She swoons, cheeks red, eyes half-mast, and then she fixes me with a smirk. “I thought your cock has already been inside me? No need for a silver platter.”

“Technicality,” I mutter, watching my hand slide down her tan arm. Grabbing her waist, I pull her against me so she can feel me hard and ready. “I’m a jealous man. This is for you, but it’s for me too. I’ll say when. And the when is now. You tell me how.” I grab the hem of her dress and raise it over her head and toss it on the same chair my uniform is on. I kiss a trail up her neck and then whisper, “Tell me. How do you want it?”

Her breaths come quicker as I pull away and admire the body inside her lavender colored bra and panties. Her stomach is toned and tight and she’s smaller than she was when I last saw her naked. The months away have changed her, and a pang of regret splices my chest for what I’ve missed—the fact that I’ve missed anything at all.

Clover brings her lips to mine and clasps her hands around my neck. Gently, she pulls me toward the bed. I fall on top of her, bracing my weight with my arms. “As much of your skin on my skin as possible,” she says, cradling my face, and tickling my chest and abs as her hand finds the edge of my underwear. Sucking in, I hold my breath as her fingers close around my shaft. It feels better than I remember. Our connection vibrates in the inch of space between our bodies. I lick a path over her collarbone, a delicious trail that leaves my mouth filled with her scent.

I unsnap her bra in between her breasts and try to focus on licking her nipples while her hand pumps in my underwear. “Let’s take the rest off,” Clover says, her breathy tone sending a jolt to my cock. Leaning up, I remove my underwear and peel hers off her body. The scant lace is wet and smells like her. An indescribable mix of scents that sets my teeth on edge. Longing hits. The ache comes next when she spreads her legs and opens for me. “My honeypot is wet for you, Mercer Ballentine. What are you going to do about it? Go fishing? Or go fishing?”

Chapter Twenty-One

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Clover

MERCER FLASHES Awolfish grin as he lowers his head between my legs. “Oh, okay then. That’s nice. Real nice,” I say, running my hands through his hair, closing my eyes. My whole body is writhing with feelings—an onslaught of eroticism. His tongue flicks my clit and I feel pleasure in my stomach, in my knees, in that place below my belly button. He growls as he slides a finger inside my wet pussy and my back arches. “I want to come with you inside me. Not on a finger. Mercer,” I say. Swallowing and breathing at the same time seem like too much of a challenge in the haze he has me in. From the moment I laid eyes on him in the airport, I dreamed of this. The claiming by Mercer Ballentine. A fantasy by any woman’s standards, and my farm trucking real life.

“Give me the real one. Inside me. I won’t smell like rubber after. It’s going to be the best night of my life.”

He laughs, gliding away from my center, kissing my hips, my stomach, the tips of my breasts. Once on each side. Hitting every erogenous zone on his blazing path to my neck and mouth. “You’re making me jealous of my own cock.” A throaty, turned-on laugh, rumbles his body. “Never thought I’d say that.”

“Then stop talking,” I order, moving my hips up, seeking his wide girth. It is the same yet completely different than the dildo. His dick is warm and softer, my core will wrap around it differently than rubber. I bring his face to mine, his mouth to mine, his gaze, so soulful, searing mine. “Take me. I’m yours.”

He nudges gently, just to see if he’s in the right ballpark. When he meets my wet, hot opening, his eyes fall closed with a soft moan. His neck works as he swallows hard and thrusts again, the tip entering me, his width stretching my pussy open. “Tell me if it hurts.”

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