For 100 Reasons (100 3)

He chuckles. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

Avery sits up, tilting her face to whisper in my ear. “Who said anything about waiting until we get home?”

She moves my hand onto her thigh, where her skirt rides up just enough for me to skim my fingers into the heat between her legs. Her skin is infinitely soft, burning beneath my fingertips as I slide higher, into the juncture of her thighs. She’s not wearing panties.

Holy fuck.

A shallow gasp races from between her lips when I stroke into the wetness of her bare pussy. My blood pounds, all of it rushing south to my suddenly unbearable erection.

It’s not as if I haven’t been thinking about being inside her all damn day.

She’s wearing a short-sleeved navy dress that somehow manages to look classic and sophisticated while hugging every luscious curve and plunging low enough to showcase the long rope of pearls around her neck.

She caught the eye of every man in viewing distance of her, but her attention never wavered from me. And each moment she spent beside me I felt my chest swell with pride and wonder that this extraordinary, enticing woman is mine.

Now I need to hear her say the words. I need to hear her say them in a pleasured cry of release that leaves no room for doubt.

My free hand hits the privacy screen button without a word of excuse to Patrick.

As soon as we’re sealed off from my driver, Avery attacks my mouth in a searing kiss. We should be sated after the way we came together before leaving for the ceremony this afternoon. But that hard, bone-melting fuck was only a prelude to the desire that erupts between us now.

And thank God for that.

It’s been torture trying to downshift and take things slow with her the past few nights. I never want to see fear in her face when she looks at me. I’ll never cross that line with her again—that much I can promise her. But my need for her is immense.

Today she let me know in no uncertain terms that she wants this too.

Hell, on the bathroom countertop today when she spread herself open to me like an offering laid out on the altar, she demanded no less than everything I had to give her.

Hunger rakes me just to recall it. I see that same erotic invitation in her desire-drenched gaze now. She inches toward the center of the leather seat, her skirt riding high above her naked hips. The string of pearls rolls with the subtle motion of the vehicle. The long strand dips low, creamy baubles sliding against the shadowed cleft of her sex.

“Christ.” The curse wrenches out of me, dark and urgent. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

Her sensual mouth curves at my praise. With her eyes locked on mine, she reaches down, her fingers moving the pearls in a slow caress between her slick folds. She arches beneath her own hand, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as a soft moan curls up from the back of her throat.

It’s more than I can bear. I descend on her, pushing her thighs wider as my face meets her pussy and I lick into her sweetness. She sucks in a gasp, bucking against me as I tongue her clit. The pearls are warm and sleek against my face, rolling between us with each hungry movement of my head between her legs. I slide my hands beneath her and angle her so that she is completely at my mercy.

“Oh God,” she whispers, her spine undulating in time with my tongue’s lashing.

On a low whimper, she rises up to watch me devour her, unabashed in her enjoyment. Her fingers tunnel into my hair at the back of my head, clutching me against her in fevered demand.

“Fuck,” she gasps as I hold her darkened gaze and continue my onslaught. “Nick . . . oh fuck.”

Small tremors vibrate in the pearls that brush against my mouth as her climax starts to build. When I catch the end of the strand with my tongue and roll it over the hardened bud of her clit, her body shudders, trembling in my hands.

I don’t stop until she’s coming, until her soft, shallow panting becomes a moan and then a cry of uncontainable pleasure.

Only then do I stop long enough to unfasten my belt and zipper enough to take my stiff cock in my hand and guide it to her. I drive in deep, too lost to be gentle. Too consumed with love and desire for this amazing woman to exercise any degree of control.

Her arms wrap around me as I stroke into her tightness, her pussy gripping me like a wet, hot fist.

“You’re mine,” I utter against her mouth.

I hear the plea in my gruff voice and I know she must too. She must feel it in every hammering thrust that takes me to the very limit of what her small, impossibly snug body can accommodate.

And still I can’t get deep enough. I never will, not with her.

“Mine, Avery.”