Sweet Surrender (24 page)

“I can’t get lush, sumptuous softness with a skinny stick figure. Sharp edges and bones poking me are no fun to cuddle up with.” He lifted his head and found her eyes. “I fell in lust first, baby, but I soon fell in love with the sweet, kind, giving woman behind the T&A. Next…”

“Marc.”

“Next.” He went back to nibbling along the edge of her sweater, his tongue slipping out to dip into the valley between her breasts.

“Handsome,” she sighed, barely able to think.

“Next, baby.”

“Uh—well, I’m not cultured and refined like your family.”

His rumble of laughter created a pleasant vibration along her breasts and her nipples hardened in response. “Ha! That’s rich!”

Despite the seriousness of their conversation, their closeness, the heat of him pressed against her, and the touch of his hands and lips all combined to inflame her senses fully. Subtly, she shifted, trying to ease her body’s response as she continued.

“It’s true. What do I know about fine wine, formal entertaining, the theater, or lacrosse for that matter?”

“From what you’ve said, my sister and mother acted like backbiting bitches at that table, insulting you and giggling like mean girls in high school. What about that type of behavior is the least bit cultured and refined? A country club membership, occasional seats at the ballet, and daddy’s money don’t turn a shrew into a lady, Jess.” He lifted his head, his eyes searing in their intensity as he gazed up at her. “Those women can’t hold a candle to your grace and charm, except when you’re talking about my mother carrying my balls in her purse, that is.”

Her eyes widened, unblinking, as her hand flew to her mouth. She couldn’t believe she’d said that and more. He chuckled softly, pulling her hand away and kissing the backs of her fingers.

“Is there another next?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Thank God for small favors.” He grinned down at her before turning serious. “Here are the new rules. No more doubting me, no more self-deprecating remarks and believing what other jealous people say. No more eavesdropping, stealing my truck—I still can’t believe you drove my truck—and no more locking me out of the house. And no more jokes about the size of my mother’s dick—that gives me a really bad visual.”

Jessie giggled for the first time. She
really
couldn’t believe she’d said what she had.

“—and last, though far from least, no more threats to go home to your mother. You’re all mine,
bella mia,
and I plan to keep you. Always.”

Throat tight with tears, she couldn’t speak and only managed a nod.

Marc took her hand and held it flat against his chest. Mirroring the motion, he placed his own hand over her heart. “What we have between us is special, Jess, but we have to tackle challenges together to keep it that way. Understand?”

“Yes,” she croaked, hoarse with emotion. She cleared her dry throat. “How did you get to be so smart and giving, and kind and wonderful?”

“You mean with a mother and sisters like mine? That’s easy enough to explain. I have a wonderful man as a role model and a beautiful fiancée who makes me want to be a better man.”

Her face crumpled as more tears threatened. “Here’s another flaw. I’m a freakin’ watering pot.”

“No, you’ve just spent so many years suppressing your feelings; now that you have me and can let it out, the floodgates are open. That’s perfectly okay, baby. Cry all you need to. I’m happy to hold you and kiss away your tears when you’re through.”

“Are you for real?”

“Want to pinch me and see for yourself?”

“No, I better pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.” She sank into him, hugging him tightly as if she’d never let go.

“Are we good now, Jess?”

“Yes. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,
cara mia,
more than anything. Now haul those big tits and that exquisite ass into bed, so I can slake my lust for you. I want to show you how much in love with you I am.”

Marc whisked her sweater over her head and with a twist at the waist, showing his strength and agility, settled Jessie on her back in the middle of their big bed. While she smiled through her tears, he began proving both his lust and his love. Slowly, his lips meandered over her face, brushing softly over her cheeks, her eyelids, and the smooth line of her jaw, before he took her mouth in a thorough, sensual kiss. When he’d made her restless and needy, only then did he move on, leaving a trail of moisture as he licked lightly down her arched neck to her heaving chest.

She watched through heavy lidded eyes as he lifted his head, flicked open the front clasp of her bra and peeled back the lace. His gaze fixed on the bounteous mounds as his fingertips caressed her gently, stroking over every inch except the tips that craved his touch the most. He pressed lingering soft kisses along the lower curves, moving up the deep valley in between. She arched and cupped her hands around the back of his, guiding him toward her.

“Please…” Her plea, a jagged exhalation of need, stirred the hair on the top of his head.

“No.” He moved her hands to her sides. “Keep your hands here until I say so. I’m taking my time tonight.”

“I can’t wait, Marc.”

Leaning up, his lips pressed into hers, swollen from his kisses. “Yes, you can. Lie still and enjoy.”

“Okay, but you’re killing me.”

Moving back to his former position over her breasts, his accelerated breathing sent a burst of warm air across her skin. When his fingers gently caressed her nipples, tracing the dusky pink circles, she whimpered. He moved over the pebbled peaks, pinching and rolling one firmly. At the same time, he ended her torture and lowered his mouth, licking the other aching bud.

After a moment of sweet torture, he lifted his head, staring down at her, at the nipples he’d made hard and rosy red. He flicked at one with the tip of his tongue and breathed,
“Bellissima
.” The brush of heat over the damp flesh made the tips ruche more, making them almost painfully tight and her pussy, which was already drenched with need, spasmed in anticipation.

By sheer force of will, she kept her hands in place, gripping her pillow until she thought it would tear. Her restless legs wrapped around his hips and she rocked against him, seeking relief.

“Be still. I’m taking my time, remember?”

“You said to keep my hands still, not my legs.”

Latching onto a tight peak, he sucked hard before he moved lower, fitting his wide shoulders between her thighs and pinning them open with his forearms. “Keep gripping that pillow. I’ll take care of your legs, but I want the rest of you still while I taste you.”

Fingers curling into the linen, she surrendered to the pleasure of his mouth. His tongue, hot as fire, licked into her and she heard his husky moan. “Mm…
Molto dolce,
so
sweet, you taste like honey and cream.”

“I’m gonna come. Can’t…” she groaned helplessly. “Can’t help it.”

He continued without a word, insatiably working her with his lips and tongue. Lapping at her clit and lower, circling her entrance, dipping inside and then returning to repeat each motion.

Her hips undulated, surging upward, frantically seeking more from his mouth.

“Marc!”

“Let go, baby. Come for me.”

By his leave, she did let go, bucking wildly, crying her release, thighs flexing. If not for his strength, she would have clamped his head in the vise of her thighs. Keeping her spread wide beneath him, he continued feasting on her flesh. When she started to ease, he slid a broad finger into her heat, building the fever once more. He stroked her just up inside and over that oh-so-sensitive spot that made her ache and squirm. She was close. Pushing for more, he captured her clit between his teeth, biting down with the right amount of pressure that her hips arched off the bed as he added another finger. As if she hadn’t come only minutes before, she spiraled upward and flew apart.

She floated weightless. As he kissed the soft skin of her inner thigh, his lips tickled her as he spoke, but she was too spent to move.

“That’s my girl, great tits, round ass, and a pussy as sweet as pure honey from the comb.”

He moved urgently into place between her thighs, entering her and taking her mouth simultaneously. As he began rocking into her, he whispered against her lips, “My sweet Jessie is lush, just how I love her.”

Releasing the pillow, her hands gripped his shoulders, holding on as he drove into her with powerfully potent, vigorous strokes. One pink-tipped hand slid up to his head, spearing into his hair. As she did, his hands burrowed beneath her, clasping her still warm and tender behind. Her yelp of surprise was smothered by his mouth. Molded together, they moved as one, building toward another climax—her third, Marc’s first—as the fire swept through them.

Chapter Seventeen

“What on earth am I supposed to get the four witches for Christmas?”

“Hemlock tea?” Stacy’s suggestion was spot on and came with laser-sharp timing.

Jessie tapped her lips thoughtfully. “Mm, that’s an idea. I have a nice Russian recipe that I can make up and put in pretty canisters with a holiday ribbon. Perfect.”

They looked at each other for a moment then convulsed into laughter so loud, heads turned throughout the store. Arm and arm, they exited Macy’s and hurried out into the crowded mall to continue their search.

“Didn’t Marc give you any ideas what to get them?”

“He gave me his credit card and a list of stores for gift certificates mostly. That sucks.”

“Maybe that’s what they like. I imagine they’ll bitch no matter what you get, so I’d go with his suggestion.”

“What about his mother?”

“How did he rook you into this, Jess? I wouldn’t shop for Jared’s mom if she detested me. No way… No how. You’re just asking for grief.”

“Well, I volunteered since we were coming anyway. I didn’t know his list was going to be so vague. Listen to this… anything cashmere or silk.”

“What else?”

“That’s it.”

“Didn’t you read it before you left?”

“No, I’m off today and was enjoying a rare morning of sleeping in so he left it for me, but look at this—no sizes, colors, or anything.”

“Pick something out and slap his name on it. If she thinks it’s from him, she’ll say she loves it even if she doesn’t.”

“I hate this. Why can’t he have wonderful parents like Jared’s and no siblings? Then life would be perfect.”

“Not necessarily. There’s such a thing as too perfect, you know.”

“You’re joking.”

“No. His mother is too perfect. She’s like if Steve Forbes and Martha Stewart had a child with Sofia Vergara’s beauty genes somehow merged into the mix. It’s hard to compete.”

Jessie gaped at her, eyebrows clear to her hairline. Was she seriously complaining about Jared’s wonderful parents? “Um, no offense, but unless she thinks you’re a fat, low-class slut, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Stacy had the good grace to flush. “I’m sorry, Jess. I shouldn’t complain.”

“Let’s change the subject. I want to get this done and head to the bridal salon upstairs.”

“Pass.”

“Stacy, you’ve don’t have much time left to find a dress, either.”

“I still have hopes that Jared will change his mind and we can elope.”

“Seriously? You don’t want a wedding?”

“No, I only want to be married to my gorgeous man. You can still throw me a kickass party, though. That wouldn’t hurt my feelings at all.”

“You got it. Still…”

“Fancy-schmancy dresses, boring receiving lines, and hundred-dollar bottles of awful-tasting champagne aren’t for me. I’ll do whatever you need to make your wedding day special though.”

“Gee, thanks. I hope you can stay awake through it all.”

Stacy threw out her arms and lifted her chin as though she were sacrificing herself. “I’ll make the effort for you, sugar. Maid of honor, best friend, slave to the bride, whatever you need, you got me. Okay?”

“You’re a nut,” Jessie laughed.

“No nuttier than you. That’s why we get along so well.” Winding her arm through Jessie’s, Stacy said, “Now then, take me to the bridal salon.” She shuddered and said with a groan, “I can’t believe I just said that. The things I do for friendship.”

* * *

“It’s perfect.”

As Jessie appraised herself in the mirror, she had to agree with Stacy. The champagne and ivory tea-length gown was ultra-feminine. With its sweetheart neckline and corset bodice, it enhanced her figure rather than bringing attention to it. She was aiming for elegant, not the headliner at a burlesque show, which she could have been in any of the other dozen strapless designs she’d tried on. This one had a full skirt with tulle woven through the bodice and gently gathered throughout the skirt. There was also a strap of delicate handmade flowers and petals on one shoulder and a smaller spray at her waist on the other side, which drew the eye away from her full breasts and the subtle hint of cleavage. Topped with a simple sheer veil, it was perfect.

“How much is it?” She twisted around, searching for a tag.

“I don’t think they label them here,” Stacy whispered.

“Oh, my God, it must cost a fortune then. Unzip me.”

“But, Jess—”

“No, help me take it off.”

With a grim expression, Stacy did as she asked. “Why won’t you let Marc help you pay for it? He can afford it.”

“In spite of what everyone else may think, I’m not marrying him for his money. Mom and I are going to pay for what the bride traditionally pays for, including my dress.”

“Won’t what you’re planning cost a fortune?”

“No. I have a plan and a firm budget. A church wedding is nominal. I only have to pay for the organist and the flowers. I’ve agreed to a reception at the country club, which is heavily discounted because Marc is a member. He can take care of the limo, his tuxedo, which he no doubt already has, and the honeymoon, all the groom stuff. I’ve got this.”

“What about the rehearsal dinner? Is his family chipping in for that, or with anything?”

“No, his mother hasn’t asked or offered, so we’ll skip it. One of you girls can line everyone up ahead of time, surely.”