Bennett pulled me forward, waving over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“It was so good to see you all!” I yelled, still waving to our family and friends.

He practically dragged me away before lifting me and throwing me over his shoulder. The approval of our guests was communicated with roaring applause and another stack of napkins that caught Bennett in the back of the head.

He carried me all the way to the lobby and then slid me down his body, kissing my neck, my chin, my lips. “Ready?”

I nodded. “So ready.”

But when I turned toward the elevators, he stopped me with a big hand wrapped around my forearm. And then his other hand pulled a blindfold out of his pocket.

“What . . . ?” I asked, a wary smile spreading slowly across my face. “What are you doing with that in the lobby?”

“I’m whisking you off somewhere.”

“But we have a room upstairs,” I whined quietly. “With a big giant bed and several of your ties to get kinky with, and,” I dropped my voice, “the bottle of lube in the drawer.”

He laughed, bending to run his nose along my jaw. “There’s also a duffel bag in the limo outside that has several of my ties to get kinky with, the bottle of lube from the drawer, and a few other things.”

“What other things?”

“Trust me,” he said.

“Where are we going?” I asked, tripping after him when he tugged my hand and led me forward.

“Trust me.”

“Do we have to fly?”

He playfully smacked my ass, growling, “Christ, woman, trust me,” in my ear.

“Am I going to have orgasms tonight?”

He turned pulled me close to his side and said, “That’s the plan. Now shut up.”

Chapter Eight

Bennett helped me climb into the back of the limo and then slipped the blindfold over my face, tying it firmly behind my head. It was wide and tight; the bastard had anticipated my plan to peek, and the silken fabric covered half my face. I was left in total darkness.

But beside me, I could sense when he shifted closer, could smell the clean, crisp sagey smell of him when he leaned in, sucked gently on my collarbone.

“Are you going to f**k me in this car?” I asked, reaching out blindly for him. I found his arm and pulled it around me.

His rumbling chuckle vibrated along my collarbones, from one side to the other, and I felt him reach for the hem of my wedding dress and slowly drag it up my legs.

Bennett’s fingertips tickled their way past my knee, along the inside of my thigh and to the thin white lace barely covering my pussy. He slid a knuckle under the fabric, dragging it back and forth over the already-slick skin beneath.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Goddamnit, Chlo.” He pulled back, sliding two fingers into me, pumping them deep. “I’m not feeling particularly gentle tonight.”

Arching my neck, I gave his mouth better access to the most vulnerable part of my throat, whispering, “Good. I don’t want you slow and sweet.”

“But it’s our wedding night,” he argued with mock sincerity. “Shouldn’t I gently lay you on a feather bed and bring you endless, loving pleasure?”

I reached for his hand, pressed it harder into me. “You can do that when I’m bruised and sore afterwards, in the middle of the night.”

His laugh was so dark, and communicated such barely restrained need that it sent shivers down my back. I felt his breath on my ear when he asked, “So I have permission to be rough?”

I nodded, my throat suddenly dry. “Encouragement, even.”

“Maybe a little filthy?” When I answered with a nod, he growled, “Tell me.”

I exhaled, a shaking, tense breath. “I want you filthy. I want you wild and impatient tonight. It’s how I feel.”

He twisted his wrist, and pushed a third finger into me so deep I felt the cool of his wedding ring against my skin, and I cried out from the sensation of the pressing metal, of being stretched tight. His thumb made teasing, maddening circles just around my clit, expertly never quite touching exactly where I wanted it. Traffic sounds grew to a crescendo and then ebbed into silence, and the steady thump of bridge spacers sounded beneath the wheels.

“Are we leaving Coronado?”

“Yes.”

“Are we getting on a plane?” I asked again.

“Does my hand not feel good?” Irritation simmering in his voice.

“. . . what?” I asked, confused.

“Are you distracted by the street, rather than the three fingers currently f**king you?”

“I—?”

He pulled his hand out and reached for my shoulders, pulling me off the seat and dragging me so I kneeled on the floor. I felt him shift around to pull me closer, and I realized I was positioned between his legs. The sound of his belt, his zipper, and his pants being shoved down his h*ps cut through the quiet.

“Come here,” he said on an exhale, cupping the back of my head. “Suck.”

Despite the single rough word, his touch grew careful as I began to lower my mouth over him, as if he wasn’t sure how to blend his pent-up need to come with the reality of our brand-new marriage. We’d talked for cumulative hours about how things would be in this very moment—the two of us finally alone, married, and faced with the reality that it might be different—but now that we were in it, I could tell Bennett was a little torn.

We’d said no way would it feel different: it was just two rings, just a piece of paper.

We’d said we’d never stop being hard on each other, or start having easily bruised feelings.

We’d promised anything could always happen between us in the bedroom. We swore we’d never hold back, or be afraid to ask for whatever we needed.

But as I worked his length with my lips and my tongue, I could sense that Bennett’s hands were fisted at his sides, not in my hair. His h*ps were pressed firmly into the seat beneath him, instead of rising up, arching toward my mouth.

So I did the first thing that came to mind: with a quiet sucking sound, I pulled my mouth off his c**k and sat back on my heels.

His breaths came out in sharp gusts, but other than the sound of the road passing beneath us, the car fell silent.

Finally, his voice rose from the quiet in a controlled rumble: “What happened?”

What happened? So tame, Bennett.

In this moment, I hated not seeing his face, but I knew he understood the point I was making when he took a deep breath and asked, “Why the f**k did you stop?”

There he is.

“You know why.”

Strong hands lifted me off my heels and sat me back until my butt hit the floor of the limo and my spine rested on the seat opposite him. One of Bennett’s knees planted on the seat beside my head and without saying a word, he pressed the crown of his c**k to my lips, forcing my mouth open.

“Suck,” he said, and this time the word was coated in anger and need. I barely had time to adjust to the feel of him before a tight fist curled in my hair, holding me steady as he began to move in short jabs, not going too deep, at least not yet. Finally, his hands released my hair and left me only long enough to frame the side of my face, holding me steady for his longer, deeper strokes.

The car rolled to a stop and Bennett slammed a palm on the intercom button, managing a sharp “Wait here” before returning his hand to my face, groaning hoarsely.

His rumbling “Fuck, Chlo” sparked my lust, and I reached up to wrap my arms around his hips, whimpering at the powerful snap of his thrusts, the hard contractions of muscles in his ass.

I couldn’t see a thing, but each time he moved deeply and I felt the soft hair against my face, I wanted to suck as hard as I could so that when he pulled back I would wring as much pleasure out of this moment as I could for him. I felt desperate to give him this.

“So f**king good,” he said, his voice raspy, and I could tell from his movements that he was growing close. “Those perfect f**king lips. Feeling your tongue on me.”

I slid one hand between us, cupped his balls, and stroked just behind, teasing.

“Yes,” he hissed, h*ps jerking.

With a final push inside, he came, c**k rigid and releasing his orgasm down my throat. He cried out as I swallowed around him, slowing his movements until only the tip of him rested against my tongue. I tilted my head up to him when he pulled out, and felt the soft glance of his thumb across my bottom lip.

Wordlessly, Bennett reached down and adjusted my blindfold before bending and kissing me deeply, his tongue sliding over mine.

“Tell me you like my taste,” he whispered.

“I love your taste.”

And then he pulled my dress up, moving his hand between my legs and under the lace of my underwear, as if confirming what I’d said was true.

“I f**king love your mouth.” He leaned forward, laughing against my lips. “And I love f**king your mouth.”

His touch was gentler now, exploring rather than giving pleasure. He grunted quietly, moving his hand away from me, and I heard the rustle of fabric as he pulled up his pants, straightened his clothing.

Taking my hand, he murmured, “Come on, Mrs. Ryan. We’re here.”We were definitely in a hotel. I could tell by the sounds of elevators, suitcases rolling across travertine floors. I could hear the way voices grow hushed as we walked past, and I imagined how we must look: Bennett carrying a blindfolded and barefoot bride in his arms and with a duffel bag full of who-knows-what slung over his shoulder, carrying me barefoot and blindfolded in my wedding dress.

“Are we in a hotel?”

“Shh,” he whispered, lips to my temple. “We’re almost there.”

He carried me as if I weighed nothing, his strides even and steady. I pressed my lips to his neck and asked, “Is everyone looking at us?”

He turned his head, laughing quietly in my ear. “Definitely.”

Once we stepped into the elevator, it smelled familiar. Was it possible we were back at the Hotel Del and he had just done an elaborate ruse to trick me? But if he did, why?

We rode up in silence and I adjusted my grip on his neck, trying to listen to the number of floors we passed, to any sign of where we were. Beneath my knees, his left hand squeezed me reassuringly.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded just as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, but Bennett didn’t move. I realized there’d been someone else in there with us. How had it been for them, I wondered, to be watching us as we went up to wherever our final destination was, knowing we were clearly headed to our wedding night?

When we reached another floor, Bennett stepped out and carried me down what felt like the longest hallway ever.

“I want you inside me,” I said into the warm skin of his neck.

“Soon.”

“You won’t make me wait?”

“I only want to get you there and na**d. The plan beyond that is pretty self-explanatory.”

Something about the walk felt familiar, some turn and body position, and suddenly it hit me.

Of course.

Of course.

He came to a stop, maneuvered so he could pull a key from his pocket, and opened the door.

I didn’t even have to take off my blindfold to know.

Carefully, he put me down and I reached up, slipping the satin up and off my face. Yes. It was the room we’d stayed in at the W more than two years ago—the exact one. The same couch, the same bed, the same balcony, the same small kitchenette. Although, now it had a new, no-longer-broken desk.

The room where we first knew—really knew—that I was his and he was mine.

I could feel Bennett watching me, gauging my reaction, but I’d been so overwhelmed with emotion all week that I felt a little numb, almost as if on top of the family around us, the wedding, the vows, and how much I needed to feel him, my mind clamped shut and I started to feel dizzy.

He stepped behind me, kissing my neck. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“We never did lose what we found in this room,” he said, bending now and kissing my shoulder. “In fact, we turned it into the happiest hate-love of all time.”

“We sure did.” I turned to look at him, wondering if now was when he tore my dress off and f**ked me facedown on the floor.

But his eyes were clear, careful. He stepped closer, bent to kiss my jaw. “You smell so f**king good.”

“What’s going on? I thought you were going to be rowdy.”

“Fucking your mouth in the car helped take the edge off.”

I closed my eyes, feeling memories storm into my thoughts.

“I’ve never done anything close to this and I don’t know how to navigate it anymore,” I’d said.

“I told you. I haven’t been with anyone else since we started this,” he’d said.

“That doesn’t mean you won’t take a room key if it’s put in your hand.”

“Let’s call a truce for one night. I just need tonight,” he’d pled, and given me three desperate kisses.

I opened my eyes. “How much of the first night in here are we going to re-create?”

He shrugged and when he smiled, he looked so young, almost innocent. “I think we’ll skip the fight in the bathroom, but I definitely hope you wake me up with your mouth on my cock.” He leaned forward, kissing me once and then pulling back to study my face. “Honestly, Chlo, I just want you out of this dress. I feel like we haven’t been skin to skin in months.”

I nodded without speaking, still overwhelmed and exhaling in relief when Bennett’s broad hands slid across my bare back, unbuttoning and pushing my dress down my sides, holding it up just enough for me to step out of the skirts. I turned back around to face him, wearing only a tiny strapless bra and the smallest thong I think I’d ever worn in my life.