Four Weddings and a Break Up (21 page)

He lightly scraped her clit with his teeth, and then suckled it into his mouth. Her hands reached for his head and held him there. His finger breached her entrance, thrusting, pumping, widening her, readying her. She ground herself into him, wanting more, more,
more
.

He added another finger, and kept laving her clit, circling it, teasing her, keeping her on the precipice of release. He was her torturer, and she was more than willing to endure.

Then suddenly he put his mouth over her and sucked hard even as he thrust deep, and the unexpectedness of the action pushed her over the edge, had her screaming his name, as release overtook her body. Her heartbeat was so loud, so fast, and Wes was traveling back up her body, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses on her flesh.

His cock was hard and insistent against her belly, and she wanted him to slide into her. But before that, she reached down between their bodies and grasped him.

He groaned and kissed her deep. She caressed his length, loving the smoothness of his hard cock, how it pulsed in her hands. His tip leaked, and she used it as lubrication as she tightened her hold and tugged down. His hand joined hers, showing her how he liked it. She was a quick study and soon learned the rhythm, and gasped into his mouth when he took her nipple in his mouth and pulled deep.

New waves of pleasure rose in her body, shocking her with the force of it. She had thought one orgasm would have been enough; she hadn’t expected a second one so soon.

When Wes moved his mouth to kiss her ear, she voiced this to him. He stilled and glanced at her.

“Sugar, you really haven’t been having good sex, have you?” Then he touched his lips to hers. “Because tonight you’re going to come so hard and so fast that you’re going to lose count of how many times you orgasm.”

Well, she could go for that. “Promise?”

“Promise. And”—he shot her a devilish smile—“as you know, I don’t make any promises I don’t intend to keep.”

He took a moment to reach for his pants and take out the condom. He put it on himself and then pressed his body on top of hers. She loved his weight on her, and her legs came up to wrap around his hips, locking him there.

His fingers ran through her hair, spreading them, and then he braced his arms on either side of her. His gaze locked on hers, his cock poised at her entrance.

Finally, he slid deep inside. She gasped at his thickness, at how he filled her so completely and also stretched her. He pressed his forehead against hers, his cock pulsing inside. She was straining, wanting more, and she arched up, her hips tilting.

And he slid even deeper, rubbing over that sweet spot that made her shout his name and clench his shoulders. She found herself sitting up, her legs wrapped around him, as he thrust up into her. She kissed him, heard his groan when she moved her hips just so, and then she was meeting his demands, reaching for that release. Their tongues met and entangled, and then she was flat on her back again. He slammed deep inside, over and over again, his pace hard, unrelenting. She loved every single minute of it.

She felt herself tightening, drawing back, and impatiently waiting for something to set her off. She leaned up and kissed him, and pushed him to his back. She straddled him, and his cock slid home once again.

“That’s right. Ride me, Ginny.”

She sank down on him and moaned his name.

“Cup your breasts. Yeah, just like that. Flick those pretty little buds for me. Ripe and sweet like cherries. I love your breasts.”

His hands reached out, putting his hands over hers. Together, they moved over her breasts.

“Wes. Harder. Faster. Now.”

He rolled her back on the bed, his cock still inside her.

He moved their hands downward to their body, where they joined. “Look at us.”

Her gaze followed his, watching his cock slide in and out.

“Look at how hard you made me. How my cock wants you. Wants to fill you.” He wrapped her hand around him as he thrust back inside. “Look at your pretty little clit. So plump and juicy and red.”

He took her index finger, flicking over her clit. She thrashed her head from side to side. He raised her hands above her head to the bedpost. “Don’t let go.”

She clutched at it and wept in relief when he finally touched her there.

“Yes. That’s right. I need you too, Ginny.”

“I want to hold you.”

“You know I can’t deny you anything.” Wes’ gaze was fierce and tender at the same time. “You can let go of that post, Ginny. And you can hold onto me. Always.”

She held onto him. “Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.”

He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, and he was quickening his pace, and she felt his cock tightening inside her. And then he swiveled inside, hitting her deep and hard, and she came with a loud cry of release. He pounded into her, then shouted her name as he found his own paradise.

He rested on her briefly before he removed himself, to get rid of the condom. The sound of the sink running went on and off, and he came back with a damp washcloth.

“Let me,” he said and cleaned her.

After he was done, he put the washcloth back in the bathroom, returned to bed and gathered her in his arms. She rested her head on his chest, listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady.

“Ginny,” he said.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Wes.”

“Just so you know, there’s not going to be a lot of sleeping tonight.”

“Oh, I know.” She snuggled against his chest. “After all, you did promise me so many orgasms I wouldn’t be able to count them. And since I can count to two . . .”

She gasped when he rolled her on her back, leaning over her.

“Two, huh?” Wes leaned down and kissed her. “Guess I need to get back to work. I don’t break promises.”

And he was right.

He didn’t.

S
he woke up
, spooning with Wes. The morning light filtered in through the curtains. She turned in his arms.

Wes was still sleeping.

She leaned up on one elbow, her hair tumbling over one shoulder, and studied him. He looked so peaceful in repose, his features softening and hinting at his vulnerability. She placed her hand on his chest, marveling at the differences, how dark his skin was against her paleness. She didn’t want to wake him, to disturb him, so she removed her hand and carefully stood up. Her reflection in the mirror was an image of a well-pleasured woman, her skin rosy and patches of red where his unshaven jaw had scraped her, and she was still tender between her legs.

She had lost track of how many times she had come last night. She smiled, running a hand through her tousled hair. She’d gladly pay for those consequences.

Going into the bathroom, she closed the door behind her and started water for the deep bath, filling it with soapy bubbles that smelled like peaches and vanilla. As she waited, she washed her face and brushed her teeth and did other necessary things. She clipped her hair up.

Once the tub was filled, she turned off the faucet and slipped in, sinking into the heated water with a blissful sigh. She took a washcloth, soaping it, and rubbed it down her arms, then back up. She leaned back, her head rested against the edge, and stretched one leg up, pressing her toe against the faucet.

Last night was something wonderful.

A huge smile spread across her face. He wanted to do away with the pretenses too. He wanted to date her—for real. And she had been thinking—she didn’t know what she had been thinking last night. Maybe she’d just gotten scared about her heart being broken.

She knew better than anyone that time was short and precious, the future unpredictable. She could only take each day for what it was—and just see where things led with her and Wes. That was enough for now.

She was so lost in her own thoughts she didn’t hear the bathroom door open, didn’t know Wes had entered until she heard his voice.

“Ginny.”

She startled, letting out a noise of surprise, and some of the water sloshed over the rim, hitting the bathroom rug and tiled floor.

“Wes? What are you doing in here?”

“I knocked and called your name. You didn’t answer.” He shrugged and eyed her tub. “Any room for me?”

“You want to take a bath with me?”

“Who said anything about taking a bath?”

Oh. Ohhhhh. She felt herself blush, then picked up the soaked cloth and rewashed her left arm to give herself time. Wes’ eyes trailed the movement and he stepped closer.

Who was she kidding? She so wanted this. After all, bathtub sex had always been a fantasy of hers. She turned, ready to say yes.

He had stepped even closer, and . . .

His cock hit her.

In her left eye.

“Ugh!” She covered her cock-stabbed eye. “Jesus, Wes. Be careful. You almost poked my eye out!”

He was laughing so hard that he’d collapsed to the floor before the tub. Ginny wanted to get even. Like stab him in his eye with her nipple. See how funny he thought that was.

Instead she splashed water at him as she stood. Angrily, she stepped over the rim of the tub, onto the floor, and started to march past him, still huddled over, laughing.

His hand snagged her ankle. “Ginny.”

“Let me go,” she said, still angry, still tempted to poke him in the eye. She was blinking furiously, trying to ease the slight pain. And then she decided just to close said left eye.

He broke out into laughter again. “Aye, matey. You need a patch, you do.”

“Oh, shut up and take your big cock and go stuff it.”

She yanked backward, attempting to break his hold and her other foot slipped on the tiled floor. Her arms windmilled, her feet scrambled to seek purchase. Wes came up, grasping her around her middle, trying to steady her, but she was already falling.

“Shit,” she yelled.

Wes shifted their bodies, so he took the brace of the impact. He landed, half on the small bathroom rug, half on the tiled floor, with her atop him. Her still-wet and sudsy skin smacked his flesh, bubbles floated up and popped in the air.

Her breath knocked from her body, it took her a few minutes to gather herself and lean up, her hands flat on his chest. And the humor of the whole situation hit her. But she wasn’t going to let on that she found it funny—not yet.

She glared at him. “Arrrgh.”

He started laughing again.

She moved her hands to his, tugging them above his head. Her breasts rubbed back and forth over his pectorals with the movement. She leaned forward, her hair a wet curtain around his face, and captured his laughter with a kiss.

She stole into him, sealing his mouth with hers, taking whatever treasure she could find and claiming it as her own.

She loosened her hold on his wrists, letting him go even though she had known the whole time that at any moment, any second, he could have escaped had he so desired. His fingers wrapped around the ends of her hair, the wet waves twined around him. She slid down, and he filled her, taking her. Claiming her as his. And as they came, release washed upon them like undulant waves cresting in the ocean, rushing toward shore, and coming back home.

I
t was
some time later when they had finally managed to clean up, dress, and check out of the hotel room before heading to the morning brunch. Wes couldn’t help himself—he stole kisses from Ginny outside the hotel room door, in the elevator, before the lobby, and right now, he kissed her again, before the glass doors that led to the outside eating area.

Her eyes were dark and glazed over with desire. And her tongue darted out, to lick her moist lips, as if she was trying to capture the last essence of him. He put his hand on her shoulder, drew her back to him, and leaned down to kiss her again.

He loved the realness of her—the utter lack of pretenses that existed between them. And he wanted to date her—he
was
dating her. He didn’t know what would happen come August, but he knew that if there was any chance for them to last then something important needed to happen.

“Ginny.” His hand cupped the back of her neck, tilting her head up so her eyes met his. “We need to confess.”

She quickly grasped his intent. “About the fake dating.”

“Yes, about that. I want to be with you. I want this to work with you.”

“I totally agree. I haven’t liked lying to my mom. Sure, she drives me crazy.” Ginny gave a laugh. “But she’s my mom. And I know you’re trying to get close to your family.”

“I am,” he said. “But this isn’t necessarily about them. It’s about
us
. For us to work, we need to be honest with each other.”

“Well, admitting we wanted to date for real last night and . . .”—her cheeks turned a fiery red—“other stuff is a huge start.”

“I know I can run hot and cold with you with other things. We both have issues.”

She arched a brow “You think?”

“But we’re dating. We’re going to have fun and more.” God, he was making a mess of his words. “Whatever this is we have between us, I don’t think it’s just dating. I think it’s something more.”

“Except last night you told me that you didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. That we should just take this one day at the time.” She backed away, confusion in her eyes. “I need you to be straight with me. What exactly do you want?”

“I want us to be together. I want us to date.” Wes knew he wasn’t being fair; that had he explained himself better, had he been able to fully verbalize his feelings he wouldn’t be in this position now. Although they had talked about this last night, he wanted to make sure it was clear between them—that he hadn’t just said that to go all the way with her. “It’s easier for me to tell you what I
don’t
want. I don’t want you to date any other guys. I don’t want to date anyone else. I don’t want to spend the summer with you and then leave you behind.”

He took a deep breath. Time to lay it on the line. “Ginny. I want to see where this goes, and I don’t want to mess up our chances with lies between us. And that’s why I want us to come clean with our families.”

“Oh.” Her mouth dropped open, surprise evident in every pore of her body. “Oh.”

“Tell me that you want this, too. Or tell me no. I can accept one; I’ll learn to deal with the other if I have to.” He realized what he needed to say. “I’m sorry, Ginny. For telling you that in Atlantic City about the one-night stand—”

“It wasn’t a one-night stand. It was twenty-four minutes,” she reminded him.

He laughed. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you in the grocery store. I’m sorry I told you I wasn’t made for anything real—that I didn’t want anything real. Because, Ginny, I want to date you. For real.”

“You’re not messing with me, are you?” She searched his expression, obviously looking for traces of humor, hints of teasing.

He remembered what she said outside the lighthouse when they had made their deal. “Ginny. I’m not going to hurt you. Ever. Please trust me.”

“Trust doesn’t come easily, Wes,” she said. “Especially for a person like me. But I want to trust you. I want to believe you. I’m in.”

His gaze fastened on hers, his heart beating hopefully. “You are?”

“Yeah.” Her smile was soft. “I’m game if you are.”

“So you’re saying it’s a deal?”

“Yes.” She held out her hand, her tone teasing. “Do you need to shake on it?”

“Now, sugar, you know that’s not how I like to seal deals with you.”

“I forget what . . .”

The rest of her sentence was swallowed by his kiss. It was meant to be brief, short, and sweet, but it soon turned slow, luxurious, and not so sweet. They were stopped by a catcall. They lifted their heads and jumped away.

Ginny’s mom had opened the glass doors, a wide smile on her face. “Well, I’d ask you two where you were, or what you had been doing. But I think that’s fairly obvious.”

Wes laughed and reached for Ginny’s hand, bringing her back to his side, where she belonged.

“Mom.” Ginny swallowed and looked toward him. He squeezed her hand in a comforting, reassuring manner. “There’s something I need to tell you. Or rather, we need to tell you.”

Her mom bustled them outside and over to the tables where the food was stationed. The smell of breakfast food—eggs, bacon, sausage, croissants—wafted in the air and made Wes’ stomach grumble.

“Oh, Wes, you must be starving! Here”—Faith handed Wes a plate and started ladling food onto it—“you take as much as you want.”

“Mom.” Ginny picked up a plate and placed some eggs and a chocolate almond croissant on it. “I really need to tell you something important. About Wes and me.”

Her mom looked up, a tong holding a couple slabs of bacon, and smiled sweetly. “Is this is about how you really weren’t dating and were trying to pull a fast one on me?”

Ginny gasped, her eyes widening. “You—you knew? The whole time? How?”

“Ginger Belle Michaels, I was in labor with you over thirty-two hours with no epidural. And you were a healthy nine-pound baby at twenty-one inches long. I bandaged your knees when you first learned how to ride a bicycle with no training wheels. I’ve kissed every one of your scrapes and bruises. When you lost your baby tooth, I took them out from under your pillow and put them in a box.”

Ginny made a face. “Mom. Gross.”

“You’ll do it one day, too.” Her mom narrowed her eyes and led them to a secluded corner of the patio. “I’ve seen you cry, and I’ve seen you laugh. And I know when you lie. You, Ginger Belle Michaels, cannot tell a lie. You do not, as Lady Gaga would say, have a poker face.”

“I can lie!”

“Really? Tell me one now.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“You forget who I am, Ginny. I’m your mother. I know everything. And I know my oldest daughter. You weren’t dating him.”

“Why didn’t you call me out on it? Why didn’t you say anything at that dinner when we were both at your house?”

Wes was curious to hear the answer to this, too. The respect he had for her mom had gone up tenfold during that maternal monologue.

“Because you were so hurt. You’ve been so hurt and shut away, and I couldn’t get to you. It was like you had locked yourself away, and I couldn’t find the right key to get my old Ginny back.”

Ginny winced. “I’m not the same person I was.”

“I know that. You don’t think I know that?” Her mom put the plates down on the small table. “But you’re still my Ginny. You always will be. I don’t care how much you change or who you become. You’re always my daughter. I’m always going to love you. It hurt me so much when you shut me out when you shut both Julie and me out. We’re family, Ginny. It’s just the three of us.”

“You have Grant now.”

“Yes. Just like you have Wes. And they’re both family as far as I’m concerned.” Her mom grabbed one of Ginny’s hands and one of his. “You’re family, too, Wes. I don’t care about you ‘fake’ dating because—”

“Because why?” he asked softly.

“Because since she’s met you, Ginny’s unlocked the door.” Faith looked at her daughter. “Maybe a little more beaten up than she used to be, but look at her. She’s stronger than she was; she’s wiser, she’s learning and growing each day into the beautiful woman I know she’s meant to be.”

Ginny’s eyes filled with tears. “What am I learning, Mom?”

“Why, Ginny, you’re learning the hardest lessons of all.” Her mom wrapped Ginny in a hug. “To trust in others. To give your heart freely and without regret. And to believe in yourself, which has always been something you’ve struggled with.”

Wes had to look away. It was times like this he missed his mom the most. She had always believed in him and loved him unconditionally. Ginny’s mom was a remarkable woman, and the fact that she even included him in her circle of family deeply humbled him.

Then there was a light jab to his arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” he asked, rubbing the sore spot as he looked at Faith.

“Family or no family, you hurt my daughter and I will hunt you down, castrate you, and feed your family jewels to the sharks. You got me?”