She tilted her hips against him, teasing his half-hard dick with that sweet ass. “I don’t think we have time for another round,” she teased.
“Can I touch you? Out there I mean. Can I hold your hand? Dance with you?”
Remi turned in his arms to face him. She looked stunned. “Of course.”
“We haven’t been out in public together. We haven’t been together in front of your parents.” He needed to be able to touch her. To remind them both that while she was on this island, she belonged to him.
“Everyone knows we’re…you know. It’s not a big deal,” she said, patting his arm as if trying to reassure him.
Not a big deal. The words echoed in his head. We’re…you know. It was a big deal, and no, he didn’t fucking know. She was trying to shoehorn distance between them after she’d gotten on her knees for him. After he’d barely slept for a week trying to do this for her.
“Just don’t try to find out what kind of underwear I’ve got on under the table, or I might embarrass us both,” she said lightly.
It seemed there was only one language Remi understood. He caught her by the hair and dragged her over to the folding table that until about an hour ago had been buried under catering supplies.
“Brick! We don’t have time,” she said, her voice husky.
“Don’t make a sound,” he warned her as he forced her to fold over it.
The dress rode up indecently high, sending him into possessive overdrive. She was already pressing her thighs together, trying to relieve some of the pressure. He’d relieve it for her. And in the process, he’d remind her that what they were to each other was a very big fucking deal.
Impatiently, he nudged her feet apart and shoved the skirt of her dress up. He loved the bite of the sequins against his skin, but it was the view he was obsessed with. She wore a skimpy black thong with straps that crisscrossed above and around her shapely cheeks.
“Hold on to the table,” he growled.
She obeyed, her entire body vibrating, anxiously anticipating what he was going to do to her. He wanted to punish her for making light of what they had. To parade her around the dance floor with his handprint hidden under that dress.
But more, he wanted her absolute submission. Wanted her helpless and needy.
For that, he sank to his knees behind her. He hooked his fingers into the delicate straps and dragged the material down to her thighs. She was shaking now as he admired how wet her folds were. There was no time for reverence though. Just enough time to dominate.
He leaned forward and brought the flat of his tongue to the slick flesh between her legs. She let out a choked sob, which he rewarded by grabbing both of her cheeks and spreading them wide. He continued to tongue her, stroking through the folds, licking her from clit to anus and back again. Back and forth, until he could feel her clenching hollowly around the tip of his tongue.
“Brick! Brick!” It was half whisper, half moan, and went straight to his dick.
He pulled back and let his hand fly hard and fast. The sharp slap and her soft, breathy gasp rang out in the small room, making his balls ache. He returned his attention to her sex. Stroking over that tight bundle of nerves with his tongue before dipping into her entrance. He wanted to devour her. Wanted to bathe in her. He wanted to break her. Again and again, until she was strung so tight he thought she might snap.
She bucked against his mouth, begging without words for more. And when he knew she was close, when he knew it was time, he sank two fingers into her tight channel. She was biting her lip, trying not to make a sound as he fucked her.
“Good girl,” he rasped as he pressed his thumb against the tight ring of muscle in her cleft.
She rocketed up from the table on a gasp as he slid inside.
“Do I need to put my hand over your mouth or can I get you off with it?” Brick demanded in her ear as he pumped his fingers in and out.
She nodded quietly.
“Then put your hands on the table, Remington, and spread your legs for me.”
He felt like a fucking hero when she complied. When she submitted, hinging forward and pressing that tight little ass against him.
He could come again. He could fuck his way into that tight pussy and go off on her hungry squeezes, but he needed to hold back something. Needed to keep a part of himself safe from the devastation.
She was riding his hand now, bucking against him as he thrust into her. He slid his free hand around to her front.
“You’re so fucking wet, baby. Did sucking me off do that to you? Did making me come in your mouth make you hot?”
She nodded, a small sob clawing its way out of her throat.
“Don’t forget who makes you wet.” He brought his hand between her legs to possessively cup her sex. “Don’t forget who you belong to. Who makes you come.”
Using the pads of his fingers, he circled her swollen clit. The shuddery moan that escaped her drove him to the edge of sanity. He couldn’t stop himself from grinding his erection against her ass while he fucked her with his fingers.
“Say it, Remi. Who do you belong to? Who’s making you fucking come?”
She was writhing against him, lipstick smeared, eyes shut tight, as she waited for him to deliver her pleasure. It was an arresting, filthy picture that was only complete when she tightened around his fingers.
“Y-you,” she whispered.
“That’s right, baby. Push back against me. Come all over my fingers.”
Her lips parted, and her body went rigid against his. He kept on thrusting with his fingers, with his cock against the soft curve of her ass. Kept on rubbing dirty little circles over her clit as she went off. Clenching, clamping, releasing, relaxing. She collapsed to her elbows, covering her mouth with her own hand as she sobbed through a devastating release.
She trusted him to give her this. To take it so forcefully. She trusted him to protect her. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted it all.
He waited until she was done, weak and shaking, before pulling back. Before he gently tugged her thong back into place.
His fingers traced the outline of the handprint he’d left on her, making goose bumps appear.
She made no move to stand after he smoothed her dress back down, thrilling him with a perverse triumph.
They’d both gotten off and they’d both lost something.
“Next time you want to tell me this isn’t a big deal, or you don’t want to say that we’re in this together, I want you to remember this,” he said darkly and then he walked out the door.
39
Remi brought her hands to her flushed cheeks and watched in delight as her parents whirled past her to a Zac Brown Band tune. At some point in their thirty-five years together, they must have taken dance lessons because they practically sailed across the dance floor in perfect unison.
Darlene and Gilbert Ford got each other. They were wildly different yet still managed to stay in sync.
Kimber and Kyle were at a table, avoiding eye contact.
And Brick, in that fucking sexy tie, was everywhere at once. Keeping an eye on the food, restocking plates, and generally wielding control over the chaos. And shooting her looks that made her knees go weak. It was clear that he was mad. It wasn’t clear what he was mad at. Especially since he’d seemed fine between their orgasms.