Page 149 of Broken Trails
The ceremony was a blur. Vows, rings, the grand kiss—all gone before I could clock them properly. Now, we’re all packed into the reception hall, the air thick with laughter, light spilling across tables heavy with food, flowers, and enough champagne to keep half of Wattle Creek drunk for a week.
Xavier and Harrison are already on their second round of shots, their voices carrying above the band. Bradley, of course, hasn’t moved more than a foot from Amelia all night. Right now, he’s got her twirling across the dance floor, and she’s laughing so hard she nearly stumbles over the hem of her gown. And me? I’ve got Zoe.
I grab her from behind, digging my fingers into the curve of her ass. She squeals—half yelp, half laugh—and the sound makes a ripple of laughter break out around us. I catch her mouth before she can protest, kissing her hard and shamelessly, like the whole damn room isn’t watching.
Then I pull her straight onto the dance floor with me just as the band starts to play “Tennessee Whiskey”. Chris Stapleton’s voice curls low over the speakers, and soon the others all follow suit. I sway Zoe slowly, holding her close enough to feel the way her body hums against mine. At one point, I glance toward the tables and catch Olivia with Callie perched on her lap, her curls bouncing as she claps along to the music.
“C’mon, Mitchell,” Zoe calls out, grinning. “Come dance with us.”
Olivia shakes her head, smirking. “No thanks. His hands seem plenty full already.”
That earns her a laugh out of me, which only makes Zoe swat my chest before biting her lip like she’s trying not to laugh too. The girls pile on, calling for Olivia to join. She rolls her eyes, stands, and makes her way over with Callie on her hip, swaying her gently to the music. Then Grace Mitchell appears with her arms outstretched.
“Give me this princess,” she says, scooping Callie into her arms. “Go on, have some fun. Dance.”
Olivia huffs a laugh. “And dance with who?”
“With me, little Mitchell.” I don’t even need to look to know who it is. Sebastian Daniels.
Olivia arches a brow as he steps forward, hand outstretched. “You? Since when do you know how to waltz?”
He smirks. “Since always. Don’t let the badge fool you, sweetheart.”
From across the floor, Bradley’s voice cuts in. “Better watch those hands, Daniels.”
The group bursts out laughing, Olivia included, though she keeps a careful distance as they start to dance—polite, all smiles, nothing lingering. Me? I’ve got no interest in polite. I lean in close, my lips brushing the edge of Zoe’s ear.
“You feel that, Freckles?” My hand presses firmer at her hip, pulling her against me. “That’s how hard you’ve got me right now.”
Her sharp inhale is my reward, her body pressing back against mine despite the protest on her lips. I kiss the curve of her neck, slow and deliberate, and the chorus of groans and wolf whistles is instant.
“Oh, get a room!” Xavier hollers.
“Second that!” Imogen laughs, raising her glass.
So I do exactly that. I grab Zoe’s wrist, tugging her off the floor. She stumbles after me, muttering, “What are you—”
I don’t answer. Just steer her toward the far end of the hall, past the linen closets, until I find a dark corridor. My pulse is pounding, and I couldn’t care less if half the wedding sees us vanish. I need her. To be buried inside her. Now. She barely has time to scold me before I press her to the wall, lifting the hem of that emerald dress. Her gasp echoes through the empty hallway, nails biting into my shoulders.
“Michael—”
“Shh,” I murmur against her throat, dragging my tongue along her skin. “Dance with me later. Right now, I need to fuck you.”
Her breath stutters, but her hips arch anyway, like her body doesn’t care that her mouth wants to argue. I kiss her hard, tongue pushing past her lips, claiming every inch like I’m starved for this. My hand fists in her hair, tugging her head back, exposing her neck. “You look so fucking good tonight. I’ll try my hardest not to ruin this dress.”
She gasps, whispering, “Not here. Oh my God, Michael—”
I glance around and spot a door off to the right. I wrench it open and push her inside. The room’s a storage space—shelves lined with folded tablecloths and crates of champagne. Not exactly romantic, but I couldn’t give a shit. I press her against a stack of linen, mouth on hers again as I shove her dress higher.
“You know what I’m gonna do to you?” I murmur, grinding against her, my cock straining against my zipper. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk back to the dance floor. Then I’ll pull you out there anyway, make everyone wonder why you’re smiling like that.”
Her laugh breaks on a gasp, and she clutches at me, eyes wild. “You’re insane.”
I smirk against her mouth, biting down on her lip before I drag back. “Insanely into you. Now turn around and bend for me, baby.”
My palm cracks against her ass as she turns around. She lets out a strangled moan, and it’s all the invitation I need. I press her back softly, guiding her down, then I lift her ass and give her exactly what I’ve been craving all damn night. She groans, hips arching as I move her underwear aside, line myself up, and sink in hard. Her gasp ricochets off the shelves, nails clawing at the wood for something to hold onto.
“Fuck, Freckles,” I rasp, forehead pressed to the back of her neck. “So tight. So fucking wet. This pussy’s mine.”
