Misadventures of a Backup Bride

“And I can’t wait to feel every inch of you. I’m going to swallow you whole.” I toss my tie on the floor, then yank my shirt off my shoulders, not bothering with the cuffs. The buttons ping off. Fuck them. I’ll worry about that later.

“You can try.” She saunters forward, kicking off her shoes and reaching behind her to undo the button of her skirt at the small of her back.

I hear the hiss of her zipper falling. My skin tightens. My heart revs. My cock screams.

Finally, Ella is within reach, so I grab her around the waist and lift her onto my kitchen island. She weighs next to nothing. I settle her in the middle, pressing one hand to her abdomen to lay her back while using the other to shove the houndstooth that falls to her knees up around her hips.

When I catch sight of her panties, I freeze. Stare. Blink. Forget to breathe.

To call her underwear a scrap of fabric would be generous. It’s white and feminine. It taunts me with the fact it’s almost sheer…but not quite. The lace at the front is shaped like a butterfly and it barely covers her pussy. Two strips of fabric, dotted with tiny, winking pearls, wind around her hips.

I have to see the back of this confection designed to make a man drag his tongue and lose his mind.

Without warning, I yank her to her feet, tear the skirt from her body, and spin her around to bend her over the island.

Two wide strips of nearly transparent lace stretch from each hip down, lovingly cupping her sweet ass, then disappear into the musky shadow between her legs. From the highest point at each side of the undergarment, silky ribbons entwine like the strings on a corset, playing peekaboo with the cheeks of her ass.

I can’t think of a sexier sight than Ella Hope wearing nothing but a tease and a smile.

“Holy fuck.”

“I like lingerie.” Her shaky voice almost sounds defensive. “Buying it is my guilty pleasure.”

“I’m glad.” Does she realize just how thoroughly I’m going to fuck her until she can’t move, can’t think, and can’t imagine ever leaving my bed? “And you have more like this?”

“A suitcase full. Some racier.”

I grin. This might be the best surprise ever.

I smooth my hand down her spine, over the small of her back, and cup her ass possessively. When she gasps, I smile. Oh, she has no idea what I plan to do to her luscious body.

But I’m about to show her.

“Your hands are hot on my skin.” Her whisper is choppy and soft.

Yeah, she’s aroused.

I skim my palm around her hip to touch the wings of her protective butterfly. The closer I ease to her center, the damper her lace is.

“And your pussy is wet under my fingers,” I mutter in her ear.

Her back arches. Her breath catches. She gives me a jagged nod. “I’m on fire.”

I grip both of her hips and align my distended dick with her crease, pressing into her ass as much as her panties and my slacks allow. I deeply resent my zipper. I’d give anything to be stripped down and gloved up right now so I could simply slide inside her and feel just how tight, wet, and ready Ella is for me.

Instead, I grip her hair in my fist. “Tell me what you like.”

“E-Everything you’re doing.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

She lets out a breath and wriggles her hips, twisting against my cock, pressing forward, futilely seeking some relieving pressure from the edge of the island. “You’ve done more to excite me than I’ve ever imagined.”

Smiling, I bend to press kisses across her shoulder and up the crook of her neck before I nip at her lobe. “I’m going to do so much more.”

Without giving her time to speculate what, I slip my hand under her blouse and skim my way up her soft stomach. I need to reach her bra. I need to feel the garment so I can imagine it. And figure out how best to get it off.

My fingers trace the lace-coated underwire, then I flatten my palm to cradle the weight of her breast in my hand. Her flesh fills most of my wide palm. I’m stunned by not only that but the fact there’s no fabric covering her nipples. The silky draping of her blouse disguised everything well. “Oh, sweetheart.”

I’m a boob man. I don’t deny it. And when I whip my free hand up to her other breast and cradle them both in my palms, I realize she’s really damn gifted…and I’m so fucking lucky.

Ella tosses her head back to my shoulder. “Carson…”

She’s begging for something. Pleasure. Pain. Ecstasy. I pinch her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. She hisses from clenched teeth and writhes back against me once more.

“If you value that blouse, I suggest you get it off now.”

“Y-Yes.”

I don’t know whether she means she wants the blouse intact or whether she wants me to rip it off. But I feel her fingers tugging at the garment. It goes slack around my arms still shoved underneath. Her fingers brush mine. Then suddenly the sides flutter away from her body, and I yank it free.

The two little straps of her white bra stretch over her shoulders. Three hooks hold everything in place along the back. But I want to see the front. I want to see the little candy points I’m about to have in my mouth unfettered by fabric. I want them bare.

I skim my lips over her ear. “Turn around, Ella. Show me your nipples.”

She nods slowly, her breathing picking up pace. “Then you’ll take your pants off and fuck me?”

“Sweetheart, I may only wait long enough to unzip.” I’ll worry about taking them off later.

With a sigh that sounds as if she’s relieved, she draws her shoulders up, wrapping her arms around herself, as she twists around in the limited space I’ve allowed her between the island and my body. When the edge of the counter is tucked into the small of her back, she glances her way from my pecs and up my neck, lingering on my mouth, before meeting my stare. She’s got each of her hands wrapped around her opposite elbows, arms covering her nipples. But the cleavage is insane.

“Ella…” I warn. “Show me.”

She licks her lips. “You want to see now?”

“Yes.”

“You want to touch me?”

“Yes,” I growl.

“You want to taste me?”

She’s taunting, and I love the way she draws everything out, makes me impatient with the heat and the need to have her. I’m sweating. I can’t remember ever wanting a woman the way I must have this one right fucking now.

I grab her wrists. “Move your arms to your sides or I’ll do it for you.”

Slowly, she releases her elbows. Her palms skim across her forearms, still pressed against her breasts. Just when I’m sure she’s going to show me everything, she covers her mounds with her palms. The idea of her being able to hide her spilling flesh behind her small hands is laughable and so fucking arousing I feel as if I’m about to lose my mind.

But she’s enjoying the tease. She wants to torment me, make me crazy for her. I want to let her. I’m so jacked up on desire right now it’s like a drug jetting through my bloodstream. I can almost see every flutter of her lashes, hear each one of her jerky inhalations, feel all the goose bumps on her skin.