Misadventures of a Backup Bride

dragging against her most sensitive spot—I settle my thumb over her clit and rub in small circles.

Her body tenses. She grips the edge of the counter. And then she screams my name in a wail of impending climax. “Carson!”

She’s close, and I’m so attuned to her that the tension mounting in her body is the same tension gripping mine. I flick my thumb over her distended bud faster, watching her mouth fall open, the flush spread across her chest, her nipples harden to steel points.

“Ella.” Her name is a groan that rips from my throat. I swallow. I have more to say, more to demand of her, but the ecstasy begins to swarm my head. Everything except her and the orgasm we’re about to share fades away.

This woman turns me on like no one. It’s been months since I’ve relished sex, and I’ve never felt as if I could plunge into one woman, anchor myself deep, and stay forever. Pleasure brews in my blood, tingles at the base of my cock, and rushes to the head, especially when she claws at me and clamps around me so tight I can barely move.

Oh, shit. There’s no stopping the freight train of this pounding satisfaction.

As I manipulate her clit with swirling strokes using the last of my sanity, her entire body arches and jolts. A scream spills from her pouting lips. Her pussy clenches and releases, gripping me unrelentingly.

That’s it. I can’t wait. Pleasure jets as I grip the far side of the island above her head and surge into her roughly over and over until I’m coming with her, emptying myself of weeks of grief, stress, and uncertainty. I pour into Ella, leaving a part of myself inside her. As my strokes slow, peace steals over me, and my heartbeat seems to sync up with hers.

Our breathing slows and our eyes meet. Something in my chest clutches.

“What just happened?” She asks exactly the question I was thinking.

The best sex of my life? I swallow the simple answer. None of this feels simple at all.

“No idea,” I manage to mutter.

A warning voice in my head tells me I should withdraw—literally and figuratively—and keep our relationship to exactly what we agreed to on paper before Ella ever stepped foot on the plane. But she wraps her arms around my neck and settles her pillowy mouth over my lips for a lingering kiss, and I fear very much that option is off the table for good.

“Me neither. But I think we should do it again.” She gives me a sly smile. “You know, just to study it.”

The monumental orgasm I had three minutes ago is a memory when I feel my cock stirring again. How is that even possible?

“Food first?” I ask.

Maybe reheating and eating will give me some time to wrap my head around why this woman seems to make an impact on me that’s on par with a mile-wide meteor.

She wriggles underneath me. “I vote for later. You got round two in you?”

Her voice is a challenge I can’t not respond to. “Oh, yeah.”

Ella gives me a mischievous grin as she wraps her legs around my middle even tighter. “Then I want you to take me to bed and not let me up until morning.”

Smart or not, it’s so on.

“All right,” I growl as I kick out of my pants. Then I lift her from the island and walk with our bodies still entwined across the apartment, kicking the bedroom door shut behind me. “And come tomorrow, when you’re hungry, exhausted, and sore, I want you to remember that I gave you exactly what you asked for.”

ELLA

“Seriously?” I ask just before Carson forks another warm bite of tender fillet into my mouth. I shouldn’t be relishing this…but I do. The juice. The flavor. The way he takes care of me…

“I said I was going to feed you.” His voice teases and chides me at once. “Sit back and let me do it.”

With a sigh of surrender, I lean into the stack of pillows at the head of the rumpled bed. After hours of amazing, spine-tingling, downright athletic sex, I don’t have the energy to do anything but open my mouth and let him have his way. As I dozed off for a few minutes, he disappeared, only to return with a tray of steaming food. I have no idea how he reheated everything from the steakhouse to perfection, but the orgasmic bliss he sent humming through my body earlier has now made its way to my satisfied tongue.

“I assumed you meant that you were going to take me out for a meal, not hand-feed me every morsel.”

He shakes his head. “You know the old saying about assumptions?”

I know quite well. I won’t make the same mistake about jumping to conclusions with Carson Frost again. “Touché. You really don’t have to personally lift each bite to my mouth.”

“But this way, I know you’re actually eating.” He dips the fork into the potatoes au gratin and lifts it again with a steamy, cheesy heap. “And I’m enjoying it.”

My head tells me to demand that he stop now…but my taste buds are having a party. I’ve been living on kale salads, vegetable smoothies, and grilled chicken for years. Besides, Carson and I have been so busy, we must have burned off at least a thousand calories. Not to mention the fact that I’ve never had such an attentive lover. “In all honesty, I’m enjoying this, too.”

He gives me an indulgent smile. “Seriously, you have no reason to watch your weight.”

“I appreciate that. The truth is, my drama coach in college told me that, at my height, if I ever weighed more than a hundred and ten, I would never make it big. Sadly, my experiences have proven her right.” I’ve actually been fighting my body since puberty. Short of starvation or a strictly liquid diet, my frame simply refuses to shed much weight. I always carry about twenty pounds more than I want. Some days, I’m exhausted by the never-ending battle.

So, after a dozen years of frustration and deprivation, the indulgence Carson is sliding onto my tongue is a downright thrill.

“Want me to open a bottle of wine?”

With sleepy eyes, I slide a glance over at the clock. “It’s almost three in the morning. Aren’t you tired?”

He shovels some of the steak into his mouth, followed by a forkful of potatoes. Then he unwraps another covered dish, and the scent of the lobster macaroni and cheese almost has me swooning.

“A little. But between you and our amazing leftovers, I’m getting my second wind. It’s only midnight for you, West Coast girl. What’s your excuse?”

I laugh. “I’m usually in bed by ten so I can be ready for early morning auditions. You’ve kept me up a lot longer.”

Carson lifts the sheet away from his lap, then shoves it aside. His cock—every bit as big as my toes discovered—is standing tall. “You’re keeping me up, too.”

I can’t believe he’s hard again…and I can’t say I’m unhappy about it.

“Are you always this insatiable?” I’ve barely finished the question before he’s plying my taste buds with the creamy, soft goodness of the macaroni. I bite into a chunk of the lobster and moan.

“No. That’s all you,” he says solemnly.

“That’s amazing…”

He quirks a golden brow at me. “My stamina?”

“That, too. But I meant the orgasm in the takeout tin over there.”

When I laugh, he does the same. “Well, I’ve got more—of whatever you want.”

Then he sets about tugging at the sheet covering my naked breasts, exposing my well-loved nipples and the flesh slightly rosy from orgasmic glow and whisker burn.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I promise with a catch of my breath.