Two Wedding Crashers

by Meghan Quinn

  Determined.

  Without a second thought, Beck grabs both my hands and wraps them around his neck as he starts moving his hips and mine to the beat of the song, our bodies connected, our pelvises rubbing, grinding. Thankfully we’re at a wedding where people like to dance, so we’re not the only couple on the dance floor, but we’re definitely dancing more seductively than others. Just when I start to move in time with Beck, he turns me around, my back to his chest, and splays his hand across my stomach, his head dipping over my shoulder, his lips right next to my ear.

  “This dress . . . you’re fucking killing me, Rylee.” Moving his hand to my side, he slips it under the fabric that’s covering my breasts and presses his hot palm against my equally hot skin, his thumb inches below my bare breasts.

  “Beck . . . careful,” I whisper, unsure if he can hear me or not.

  “My heart is in Havana . . .” the music plays. Beck’s hips slowly undulate with mine, his pelvis rubbing against my ass, and that’s when I feel him.

  God, he feels good, but what feels even better is the way Beck’s thumb barely grazes my bare breast.

  “Mmm,” I moan, resting my head on his shoulder and reaching behind me to grip his neck. “God, you’re good.”

  He kisses the side of my head, his scruff rough, the way I like it. “Let me show you how good I am, Rylee.”

  The hand that’s not pressing against my stomach travels to the opening of the slit and runs up to my hipbone where he starts to play with that special spot again. I suck in a large gulp of air and flip around so I’m facing him. I grip his cheeks and bring his mouth to mine, lightly pressing a kiss against his lips but pulling away before he can deepen it.

  “Fuck, Rylee. What are you doing?”

  “What am I doing?” I respond breathlessly. “What are you doing? I can’t breathe when I’m near you, let alone concentrate on anything other than the way you’re touching me.”

  “I need you,” he mutters, his voice so low, I almost didn’t hear him.

  “You two need to go back to the hotel before you start humping on the dance floor,” Chris says. “Everyone is fucking staring, even Tiffany and Del.”

  The interruption shocks me out of the lust-filled haze.

  “Shit.” Beck takes a deep breath and looks around. From the guilty look in his eyes, I know Chris is telling the truth. I’m mortified. “Time to go, Saucy. The father of the bride is pointing at us.”

  “Are we about to get kicked out?”

  “Looks like it. Let’s book it.”

  Giggling, I let Beck take my hand and guide me out the back, past the pool, through a little garden where a few of the six-toed cats are hanging out, around the house and out the gate. Looking behind us, Beck must spot someone because he says, “Hurry up, Saucy. Seems like they called in the brigade on us.”

  I run as fast as I can in my heels, hand in hand with Beck, along the streets toward our hotel, past the southernmost point of the United States, and right into our resort. When we slow down, we both struggle to catch our breath. Beck takes a second to scan behind us for any followers.

  “Are we clear?”

  “Looks like it.” Beck lets out a long breath and then chuckles. “Damn, Rylee, you almost got us caught.”

  “Me?” I point to my chest. “How was that my fault?”

  Beck looks me up and down. “I can’t be held accountable for what you do with your hands and mouth. You made me forget everything and everybody around us. So basically, it’s your fault I didn’t get any dessert. That cake looked damn good, too.”

  “There is no way I’m letting you blame this on me.” I walk across the parking lot, toward the ocean where our rooms reside.

  “Face it, Rylee. You made the moves, you have to pay the consequences.”

  I shake my head, humor in my smile. “You’re delusional.”

  As I climb the steps to our second-floor rooms, I feel Beck hot on my tail. It’s impossible not to feel him so close to me because his presence is larger than life.

  When I reach my room, I turn toward Beck to find his gaze set on mine, his body thrumming with need. “Are you going to bed, Rylee?” His voice washes over me like an exciting chill, and goosebumps prickle over my skin.

  “I was thinking about it.”

  He steps forward and brings his hand to my cheek where he cups my face. “Are you really going to sleep?”

  I nod, biting down on my bottom lip. Hating that I can’t be bolder, that I let my nerves and brain take over.

  “Okay.” He presses a light kiss against my head, and although the gesture is simple, very Beck, it touches me deeply. It’s a kiss that says I treasure you and I want to be treasured. I want to be treasured by him. “Have a good night.”

  And before I can even understand what’s happening, Beck’s entering his hotel room, leaving me speechless.

  What just happened?

  Did I misread the entire night?

  I mean, the sexual innuendo, the touching, the light kisses here and there . . . were they all for nothing?

  More confused than ever, I open my hotel door and set down my clutch. I look in the mirror. Hair’s all in place, maybe a little flatter than earlier this evening, but still looking good. I smile, showing off my teeth and make sure there is nothing in them. I test my breath and everything seems on the up and up, so why the hell is Beck in his room and I’m in mine?

  Turning toward my bed, I sneer at it. Even though it looks very welcoming, all cushy and pillowy, I have no desire to rest my head on it right now. Instead, I head to the balcony to listen to the ocean. I need something to calm my racing nerves.

  I open the sliding glass door and I’m hit by the humidity of the night. I should be used to the weather after dancing for at least an hour in it, but it feels more stifling now than ever, even with the ocean breeze kicking up.

  Sighing, I go to sit in my chair when I hear, “I thought you were going to sleep.”

  Startled, I leap in place and find Beck leaning against his balcony wall, shirtless, pants partially undone. So, so sexy.

  “God, you scared me.”

  He pushes off from his spot and walks to the railing that splits our sections where he grips the black metal. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He licks his lips and stares at mine. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  “Didn’t even try.”

  “And why’s that?” He’s fishing. This is so much harder than I thought, but I try to express myself like I’ve never had before.

  “Because, I thought my night would end differently.”

  Effortlessly, Beck hops over the railing and leans against it, still keeping his distance. Arms crossed over his chest, his pecs bulging like I’ve never seen before, he asks, “And how did you see your night ending? I’m assuming not being chased by angry wedding guests.”

  “Not really.” Still in my heels, I toe the ground and say, “Was kind of hoping this guy I can’t seem to stay away from would ask to spend a little more time with me before I leave in the morning.”

  “Hmm.” Beck scratches the side of his jaw. “And this guy you speak of, do I know him?”

  Why is he making this so goddamn difficult? I swear I can read his thoughts through his intense stare. He’s going to force me to say it.

  Taking a deep breath, I close the space between us and gently run my fingers up his chest. His chest isn’t devoid of hair, but what he does have is trimmed almost all the way down so it has the feeling of stubble. I like it . . . a lot. For some reason it’s sexier than a completely bare chest, especially with how strong he is. He’s all male, and I love the way he reacts to my touch.

  “What would a night in your bed feel like?” I ask him, my legs shaking underneath me.

  His eyes sharpen, and the corners of his mouth lift. “A night in my bed?” He pulls me in even closer by my hips and brushes my hair over my shoulder, his hand cupping the back of my neck, his thumb making slow circles along my tendons. “Demanding, relentless . . . endle
ss. Do you feel this, Rylee, this pull between us, the pull you’ve been fighting ever since you met me? If you step foot in my room, it’s going to combust. I won’t be gentle. I won’t be able to hold back, at least not the first time.”

  I take an audible breath when his hand makes contact with the straps of my dress and he starts to loosen them.

  “Beck . . .”

  “Tell me to stop and I will, but I swear to God, Rylee, if you say yes, I’m going to fuck you until morning.”

  This night will go down as the best night of my life.

  “Fuck me.”

  A bear-like groan pops out of Beck’s mouth as he hops back over the railing and then reaches for me, sweeping me up into his arms.

  Oh hello.

  When Beck walks us into his room, he shuts the sliding glass door, lowers me to my feet, then spins me and gently pushes me against the door, my hands pressing against the cool barrier.

  He undoes the back of my dress, and in one swift movement, the garment falls to the ground, leaving me in nothing but my lace panties and heels.

  Beck presses his hand against my lower back and talks to me softly. “Fuck, Rylee. I’ve been waiting too damn long to see what your tits look like pressed against this window. I’ve envisioned fucking you against it, hearing you moan my name until you come, then”—he trails his fingers down my ass—“I would take you against the bed, your hands gripping the headboard, your tits bouncing with each and every thrust I steal from you. But all of this can wait because right now, I need to know what you taste like.”

  Hooking his fingers in my panties, he pulls then pushes them down my legs until they hit the floor as well. I kick them away along with my dress and stand there naked, waiting for Beck.

  I feel him retreat for a second before he comes back and gently kicks my feet wider. He crouches behind me, his hands on my ass, when he pops my hips out and squats beneath me.

  Oh God, this . . . it’s so much . . .

  I’ve never wanted something as much as I want Beck now. I need him now.

  Chapter Fourteen

  BECK

  Fuck.

  Fucking hell.

  I wipe my hand over my face and take in Rylee from behind. From the slope of her back, to the roundness of her perfect ass, to her toned legs propped up in those killer heels . . . She surpasses every fantasy I’ve had of her.

  Crouching down behind her, I spread her legs farther apart to accommodate my broad shoulders, then I slide beneath her. Glancing up, I’m greeted by the press of her breasts against the window, along with her hands, holding her in place.

  “Do you like the idea of someone catching us? Of someone seeing the pleasure I bring you, Rylee?”

  Her chest rapidly rises and falls, her stomach moving along with each and every breath.

  I lightly run my fingers up the inside of her legs, marveling in her silky skin. “Answer me, Rylee. Do you like the idea of being caught?”

  “Yes,” she answers breathlessly.

  “And what if we are? What if someone from below spots us? What will you do?” My fingers continue to move up her legs until they reach the juncture of her thighs. I rub my thumbs near her sensitive area, lightly teasing her, torturing her.

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  I scoot closer, my mouth inching forward, dry as fuck, desperate for a swipe, one taste of this woman who’s thrown me into a lustful tailspin ever since I’ve arrived in Key West.

  “Not the answer I was looking for.” I remove my hands and scoot back, which causes her to moan in disappointment. She moves her hips forward but I still her.

  “Beck, please.”

  “Impatient. Does that mean you’re wet for me?”

  “God . . . yes,” she huffs out.

  Wanting to see just how wet, I bring my fingers to her slit and ever so lightly press them briefly inside. My fingers slide in with ease. Fuck . . . so goddamn wet.

  “Shit, Rylee.”

  “I told you.” Desperation. Love that. “Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

  Moving forward again, I bring my hands up her thighs, spreading them even more until I reach her pussy. With my thumbs, I spread her. Glistening and so goddamn pretty. Her breathing picks up even more, a light whimper escaping past her plump lips.

  “Tell me, Rylee. Tell me what you would do if someone caught us.”

  Another whimper, this one almost pained. Call me a dick, but I love how tortured she’s feeling right now, because I know within minutes, once she answers the question, she’s going to feel so damn good. To encourage her even more, I lightly blow on her clit, causing her hips to buck.

  “Fuck, I would scream your name,” she answers. “I would let them know how good you make me feel.”

  If I wasn’t so goddamn hard right now, I would have grown at least two more fucking inches from her answer, from the strain in her voice. I’m tempted to keep one hand on my cock, stroking it with each and every lick of my tongue. I want her to grip me, to feel my girth, to tease me like I’m teasing her.

  “Beck, please . . . please.”

  Smiling like a mother fucking fool, I reach out my tongue and very gently flick her clit. The first taste, fuck, it’s good—addicting—and it blocks out everything else around us. The room turns black, my peripheral vision blurring, my intentions focused on one thing and one thing alone—eating this woman out.

  Plunging forward, I lap her up, long languid, flat strokes along her entire slit.

  Slow, fast, slow, fast, flick, stroke, kiss . . . suck.

  “Oh fuck, Beck, oh God . . . yes.” Her knees start to knock against my shoulders, her body shaking under my hands.

  I pause, pulling my face away, wanting to see how far she is.

  “Wh-what are you do-doing?”

  I move my thumb and lightly run it along her slit, loving how fucking wet she is. I don’t think I’ve ever been with a woman who’s been this wet, this turned on.

  “You’re close, aren’t you? Are you throbbing?”

  “Pounding.” She takes a deep breath. “Are you edging me?”

  “Maybe.” I press down on her clit and her head flies back, her moan so damn loud that I grow so uncomfortably hard. I need some kind of relief, so I grip my cock and squeeze the base, hard. I hiss between my teeth before I press my mouth against her again.

  This time, I’m fucking ravenous. Squeezing my cock, I plunge my tongue, lapping her up. A cold sweat breaks out over my skin, my balls ache, and my mouth is on fire from how fast I’m working my tongue along her clit, begging for her to release.

  “Fuck . . . fuuuuck.” Rylee’s hips lightly pound against the glass as they move with my tongue and she screams, the sound echoing through our small room. “God, oh God, yes.” She continues to move her hips, burying them over my mouth. My hand still holds my cock, my tongue going along for the ride until she slows her hips down.

  I take no time in standing and scooping her up in my arms only to toss her on the bed. Her black hair drapes over her face, but the moment she moves it out of the way, I’m met with the most stated and beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.

  She takes a deep breath and looks at me, her eyes spending more time on my erection. I swear to God, if eyes could smile, hers just did. And that goddamn tongue of hers, it licks her lips as her legs fall to the side, her heels kicked off in her transfer to the bed.

  I nod with my head and say, “Scoot the fuck back and grab the headboard.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  I start stroking my cock, my body tingling with each and every pass of my hand. “Then I have no problem pleasuring myself in front of you.”

  “Doesn’t that only work when women do that?” She runs her hand down on her wet pussy. My jaw tightens.

  Not wanting to break, I continue to stroke and shut my eyes for effect. “You tell me.” I groan from the pressure and when I open my eyes up, she scoots back toward the headboard and grips.

  So responsive. Love that.


  “Beautiful,” I say, leaning over her for a brief second to place a chaste kiss on each of her nipples. I retreat to my bag, grab a condom, and toss it on the nightstand. “I’m going to warn you right now. I’m not going to be gentle. I probably won’t have much finesse either, but I promise you, after our first round, I’ll be better.” I run a hand over my head. “You got me so fucking twisted that if I don’t get inside you soon, I’ll lose my damn mind.”

  Smiling, she says, “Then what are you waiting for?” She spreads her legs even farther and my mouth waters. I need this woman. I need her so bad.

  Picking up the condom, I tear it open and sheath myself, watching how her eyes never stray from my cock.

  Hard as stone, I hover over Rylee and press the head of my cock through her slit, squeezing my eyes shut from how good she feels.

  “Rylee, fuck . . .”

  I crash my lips to hers and just when I think I might be too rough with my mouth, she matches each and every stroke of my tongue. We mesh, our mouths fusing together, both striving for more, both begging for more. Her hips ride up against mine, her center teasing the fuck out of my dick, warm and soft, enticing.

  With my tongue gliding across hers, I grip one of her breasts and squeeze, catching her gasp in my mouth. Been dreaming about these tits for days. My fingers find her already puckered nipple. I roll the pink nub between my fingers, loving her involuntary hip movements.

  “I want to touch you, Beck.”

  I start playing with her other nipple. Her breasts aren’t huge but they aren’t small either. The perfect handful.

  “Touch me then.”

  Moving her hands through my hair, down my neck, to my back, past the slope of my ass, she grips my cheeks and starts to grind them against her pelvis. I accidentally squeeze too hard on her nipple from the feeling of her pussy pressed against my dick. She squeaks but then kisses me lightly.