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|Castle Hill(On Dublin Street #2.5)(3) by Samantha Young|
Thus, I knew that having me stand before him, wearing nothing but the symbol of my promise to be only his for the rest of always, was a huge turn-on for him. And that meant it was a huge turn-on for me.
My fingers drifted from my buttoned shirt to the studs in my ears. I took them out and reached over to the sideboard, the sound of metal clinking against wood as I dropped them there filling the hallway. I then removed the necklace I was wearing, followed by my watch. Once all the jewelry but the ring was off, I went back to my shirt.
Braden’s pale eyes were already blazing.
I kept mine on him as I slowly unbuttoned my shirt, shrugging my shoulders so the fabric would slip down my arms and flutter to the ground.
The zip on my pencil skirt was next. I slid it down in increments, enjoying the way the muscle in Braden’s jaw flexed at the sound. My eyes lowered.
He was hard already.
My ni**les tightened and I felt my breath hitch with anticipation.
Once my skirt fell to the ground, I stepped out of it, marveling at my own stability. I was still tipsy, and tipsy, four inch heels, and good balance usually didn’t go hand in hand. Thankfully, I kept my grace and I bent down to slip the heels off. Flat on my feet, I lifted my eyes to watch Braden again as I reached behind me for the clasp of my bra. I unhooked it but slowly peeled the straps down, teasing the fabric away from my body.
Goose bumps erupted over my br**sts and areolas, my ni**les hardening to little points. Braden’s hard-on pressed against his suit pants and I hid a pleased smile. For someone who had dated a lot of women with small chests, Braden certainly was obsessed with my D-cups. He had gone from being a leg man to a boob man.
Not that he didn’t like my legs, because he definitely liked those too.
Unconsciously I licked my lips, watching his eyes flare as I gently pushed down my panties. They were damp with my arousal. I was dying for Braden to touch me, to feel how wet I was with only his eyes on my body.
“Now what?” I asked quietly, my voice thick.
His eyes burned a path that touched every inch of me. “Let down your hair.”
I smirked at him as I reached up and unpinned my hair, letting the mass of waves fall heavily down my back. I threw the pins on the sideboard and massaged my head, my br**sts rising provocatively with the movement. “And now?”
He stood up from the door, his relaxed pose gone as he replied in his low, rumbling tones, “Now walk into the bedroom, lie on your back on the bed, stretch your arms above your head, spread your legs, and prepare to take me. Hard and deep.”
Desire shot through my belly and straight to my core at the imagery. I had to admit I loved how confident and commanding Braden was in bed. Still, I couldn’t allow him to be too bossy. “If I’m spreading my legs for you, I want your mouth between them before anything else.”
He gave me a slight smile and a knowing nod. “Deal.”
“Deal.” I smiled saucily back at him and turned around, feeling a surge of empowerment at the sound of his indrawn breath.
As I walked toward our bedroom he said, “Later, I want you on your stomach and that gorgeous arse in the air.”
“First your mouth,” I replied before disappearing inside our room.
My heart was beating fast with excitement as I crawled onto our cool sheets, reached across, and flicked on the bedside lamp before turning on my back, stretching my arms above my head, and spreading my legs.
My whole body shivered at being in such a position.
Eyes on the door, my pulse raced as Braden appeared in the doorway.
“Fuck,” he breathed, moving toward me, stripping much more quickly out of his clothes than I had done. “How did I get so f**king lucky?”
“You were a very good boy this year,” I teased.
He smiled devilishly in the low light as he pushed his pants and boxer briefs down. My hungry gaze settled on his huge, throbbing erection as he moved on to the bed, his beautiful hands sliding up my spread legs. “And have you been a good girl, Jocelyn?”
I tilted my h*ps up, telling him silently I wanted his mouth on me and I wanted it on me now before I combusted. “Yes,” I breathed. “I haven’t made any grown men cry this year. I’d call it an improvement upon last. Now give me your tongue.”
His hands gripped my thighs. “Who’s in charge here?”
Despite having started the teasing, I was losing patience. I knew one way to speed things up. “Just put your mouth on me, Braden, please.”
His growl was the last thing I heard before his head descended and his tongue parted my labia. I rocked against it, feeling the build start as he circled my cl*t over and over before sucking it between his lips. My panted pleas for more filled the apartment, my fingers curling into the sheets as his tongue drew down and entered me.
“Braden,” I gasped, my hands automatically reaching for his hair.
This halted him immediately. “Hands back,” he demanded, looking up at me with fire in his eyes.
I instantly did what he asked and Braden returned to tormenting me.
Just when I was on the brink of orgasm, he stopped.
“What are you doing?” I panted as he moved up my body. He’d promised me his mouth first.
He threaded his fingers through mine, holding my hands firmly to the mattress. I felt his thumb rub over my engagement ring as our eyes held. “I want the first time you come as my fiancé to be around my cock.”
My inner muscles squeezed and my reaction was surprisingly docile. “Okay.”
As his mouth moved over mine, he thrust into me.
It was hard. It was deep. And it was beautiful.
Just like always.
“I’m thinking of quitting Club 39,” I called out to Braden from the bedroom. He’d gotten home from work earlier than usual and was in the kitchen making us coffee.
“Why?” he called back. “I thought you liked it.”
I closed my laptop, deciding to go back later to the chapter I was working on. It wasn’t very often Braden finished a workday at five o’clock, and I was determined to take advantage of that fact.
Wandering into the kitchen, I drew to a stop at the sight of the table. Braden’s laptop was open, surrounded by papers and clippings. “Um . . .” I looked up at him as he stirred sugar into his coffee. “I’m sick of missing out on the weekends with you, and Jo’s leaving, so . . .” I gestured to the table. “What’s all this?”
He handed me my coffee. “Wedding plans.”
Braden sat down in front of his laptop and nodded at me to take the seat beside him. “I said I’d organize this thing and you said you’d help. I’m not finalizing anything until I get your opinion.”
Since I was more than grateful he’d decided to take over the wedding plans from Ellie, who was determined to pinkify our wedding, I had agreed to help Braden. Sipping my coffee I sat down and stared at everything. It didn’t look like much, but our decisions were worth thousands of pounds, so we needed to be sure. We’d decided to split the wedding costs, which I thought was very evolved of my fiancé considering his tendency toward caveman mentality.
“So what have we got?”
“The church is booked, but we have to make a decision on the reception venue.” Braden turned the laptop toward me. “I like the Balmoral Hotel. I’ve priced it. What do you think?”
I was looking over the PDF the hotel had sent him when our doorbell rang, followed by the sound of it opening. That either meant it was Ellie or Adam.
“It’s me!” Ellie called. “Before I come any farther, are you both dressed?”
Laughing, I assured her we were. Somewhere along the way she’d gotten the impression that Braden and I didn’t do anything together but have wild monkey sex.
His sister appeared in the doorway, smiling broadly. She held up a bag of delicious-smelling food. “Braden told me about the wedding plans. I brought Indian!”
“Even though I fired you from the wedding plans, I’m going to let you stay because you brought takeout.” I slid out of my seat to help her plate up the food.
“I know.” She smiled sheepishly. “But it’s exciting. I just wanted to be here to see what decisions you make.”
“No refuting those decisions,” Braden muttered, eyeing her sternly. “That’s why I ended up as the wedding planner in the first place.”
“I’ll be good.” She promised. “Oh, I brought you these.” She shoved a white plastic bag at me as I fumbled with a plate.
“What is it?” I asked warily.
“Candles.” Ellie shrugged out of her jacket. “This place is so bare since I moved out. I thought those might make it a bit homier.”
Sharing an amused look with Braden, I put the bag on the counter. Ellie was known to like clutter. Her idea of bare wasn’t a normal person’s idea of bare. “We’re minimalist. But thanks.”
“Ooh,” Ellie cooed over Braden’s shoulder as she tilted the laptop screen. “The Balmoral? What do you think, Joss?”
“I think it’s beautiful,” I replied honestly, having already decided after looking at the photos that I was just going to agree to Braden’s ideas. It would make the process a lot less of a headache, and it wasn’t like we didn’t share the same taste.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Definitely.” I approached him with a plate of curry and rice, my eyes dipping to the floor. My gaze caught on Ellie’s feet. I tried and failed not to smile as I asked Els, “Sweetie, have you looked at your feet lately?”
Wrinkling her nose in confusion, Ellie looked down. She sighed. “Bugger.”
Curious, Braden looked down too after accepting his plate from me and immediately choked on his bite of curry.
Ellie was wearing two different shoes. They were flats of a similar style, but one was definitely brown and the other black. “I’ve been wandering all day over New Town like this.”