His hips moved lazily, as if he had all the time in the world to hold her like this, to take his fill of her, and make her crave him.
The table rocked, her towel fell away, and she knew what a picture they made. Her facedown on the table, fully nude, while he stood behind her, plunging and stroking, his lickable body on display.
“Rub yourself,” he commanded.
Letting go of the sheet, she slipped her hand down, placed two fingers on her swollen, wet clit, and began to touch herself. Unlike before on those long, lonely nights, she didn’t have to pretend it was a real, hot-blooded man inside of her. She didn’t have to pretend that the lips on her skin, skating down her back as he bent over her, were real.
He was real.
He was hard.
And he was about to make her come.
Long fingers pinched at her sensitive nipples while his hips drove his cock deeper and deeper. She spread her legs wider, wanting more. Needing more.
He groaned her name. “Ella, love, you’re killing me.”
“I’m trying,” she cried, thinking he was impatient.
“Not that... never that.” One of his hands joined her, brushing her fingers to the side. “Take all the time you need. I’m here to serve you.”
He made a believer out of her. Never picking up the pace, never slowing down either, until she was slick with sweat and her arousal ran down her thighs.
Every inch of her body was on fire for him. Every inch of her body craved his touch. He surged deeper than before, his fingers pinching her clit at the same time, and she screamed his name, pushing back against him.
He groaned hers as he joined her, as they came together endlessly.
The world went out of focus for a minute, and then he was pulling out of her to dispose of the condom.
A minute later, he was back, turning her over and finding her mouth.
He kissed her. Slowly. Tenderly. As if they had been lovers since the very beginning of time. The effect was devastating.
“Blake, I—”
He shushed her, licking his way down her chest, wrapping his hot mouth around a sensitive nipple and sucking hard. Her back arched, her fingers fisting in his hair as he paid the other one the same attention before nibbling his way down her stomach.
“What are you doing?”
His blue eyes were sinful. “Want to make sure you fully enjoyed your massage today.” Then his wide shoulders were between her legs, his head dipping, and his tongue on the most intimate part of her.
In no time at all, he had her in a frenzy, had her mindless, and chanting his name. Her body tightened and her legs trembled.
“If I had another condom, I’d fuck you right now,” he said, lifting his head briefly. “But since I don’t...”
His teeth scraped against her skin, and he slowly slid three fingers inside of her. He curled them and she came, her mouth wide open and her eyes tightly closed.
“What are you doing to me?” she asked as her body became her own again.
He stood and grabbed a blanket from the basket in the floor beside the table before pulling her to a sitting position and wrapping it around her.
“I’ve been making love to you,” he said finally. “You’ve enjoyed what we’ve done, yes?”
She nodded, her heart sinking. It was ridiculous to want a different answer than that. It was ridiculous to be having sex with him at all, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
All right, so that wasn’t exactly true. She wanted him, and he’d given her ample opportunity to say no.
But simply enjoying herself? She’d more than enjoyed herself over the past three days. Honestly, she loved being with him. She loved the way he doted on her, the way he touched her, and talked to her. She loved—
Oh God.
He kissed her forehead and then turned away, pulling on a pair of board shorts. “Enjoy your afternoon, love. I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing would come out.
When Ella didn’t respond, he paused and sliced his gaze her way, finding her pale and frozen. She looked as though she’d seen a ghost.
Or been reminded of the real reason why they were here—to see the man she loved marry another woman.
Perhaps he’d been mad in thinking he could woo her in only eight dates, but they had spent nearly every working day together for almost four years. Shouldn’t that count for something? He knew everything about her, down to where she was from and that she always wore open-toed shoes the day after she had a pedicure.
“Oh-okay,” she replied, and then began to dress.
He stalked out of the tent, furious. Red filled his vision, and he ignored the smiles and waves of familiar faces.
“Where you going, Your Highness?” Drew intercepted him by the snack bar.