by Mari Carr
Nick reached over the seat and flicked the locks. He’d left the car running, the heater blowing hot air to combat the winter chill. Something told her they’d be making their own heat soon enough.
He lifted her until she straddled his lap.
She’d chosen her dress with care, treating herself to a new one. It was the most adorable white coatdress with oversized ties and black ribbon pleating trim. It came to mid-thigh. She’d taken one look at it in the store and had known it was the dress she wanted to get married in.
“Have I ever told you how sexy you are in those tall boots?”
Georgie had paired her new dress with the knee-high black boots she knew Nick loved. She ran her hand along his chest, and then tugged his tie loose. She loved the way Nick filled out his suits. He was her sexy lawyer and she’d jumped him on more than one occasion on afternoons when he’d returned from court looking all professional and grown up and shit. There were times when she swore she could eat the man with a spoon he was so yummy.
“Where do you want to go for a honeymoon?” he asked.
“Mexico is nice this time of year,” she teased.
Nick lifted the back of her dress and swatted her ass playfully. “Minx.”
She laughed. “Anywhere is good.”
“What about Amsterdam? We could go see the tulips in the Netherlands.”
Georgie’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
Nick nodded. “Didn’t you tell me that was your dream trip?”
“Oh my God, yeah. But that’s my dream. The honeymoon should be for both of us.”
“George, I’ve never been anywhere with you that wasn’t fun. If you’re there, I’m happy.”
“You’re the best husband ever.”
He laughed. “We’ve been married less than an hour. You sure you don’t want to take a little more time before making that call?”
“I’m sure.” Georgie kissed him, her tongue touching his. Despite her position on top, Georgie didn’t bother to fool herself, imagining she was in control. The second her lips touched his, Nick claimed the power, gripping her head and twisting it in all the right ways. He had a way of taking the simple act of kissing and turning it into a work of art.
As they continued to kiss, his hands slowly drifted down her back, lifting her dress. “Garters,” he said reverently as he stroked the outline of the belt holding her stockings up, his mouth never leaving hers as he spoke. “I love garters.”
“Easy access.”
They continued to kiss as Georgie unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. Reaching in, she pulled his cock free. It was hard, thick, ready to play.
“What have we here?” she teased as she ran her hand along his pulsing flesh.
“I’m afraid my detour had less to do with spontaneity and more to do with pain. Nothing worse than a hard-on constricted by pants.”
Nick started to lift her, clearly intent on getting right down to business. After all, their friends were probably waiting for them at the bar by now.
However, the backseat afforded her a luxury she didn’t usually get. Control. She had plenty of room to move. Nick—not so much. “Not so fast, cowboy,” she said, shaking off his grip.
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “George.” His tone was rife with warning, but she ignored it.
Twisting around to face the front seat, she lifted the back of her dress to offer him a quick glimpse of her ass and thong, then she slowly lowered herself until his cock was trapped in the valley between her legs, the head stroking her clit.
She was wet and hot.
“Jesus.” Nick’s hands gripped her hips, but he didn’t seek to move her. “Baby, have mercy.”
She laughed. “Oh I’ll show you the same mercy you show me.”
He groaned. “We’re not always going to be in this car, you know. When I get you to the bedroom tonight, I’m going to—”
His threat ended abruptly when Georgie ran her hand along the underside of his cock, her fingers toying with the precome at the tip. “Yes?” she taunted.
“Ride me, George. Please.”
She looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Oh, I do like the sound of a begging man.”
Nick’s grip on her hips tightened, but to his credit, he didn’t try to take over. He was actually letting her run the show.
She wished she had even a quarter of the man’s patience and talent for foreplay, but the truth was she sucked at depriving herself of her treat.
She slowly rose, tugging the strap of the thong to one side before guiding the head of his cock into place.
Nick held still though she could hear his breathing accelerate as she started to push down. This position had his erection stroking new places inside her, the different angle introducing her to whole host of previously undiscovered hot spots.
Georgie gripped the headrest of the driver’s seat, using that hold to help her maintain control of her pace. It was so tempting to simply sink down hard, but she liked exploring these unfamiliar sensations.
Nick seemed to agree. His hands remained on her hips, but he let her determine the speed and the depth. But that didn’t mean he was passive. Her new husband was the master of dirty talk.
“That’s it, George. Slide down, nice and slow. God, I love how tight your pussy feels like this. Lean forward, just a little more. Right there.”
Georgie followed his command, groaning when Nick shifted as well. He always knew how to find the positions that would get them the most bang for their…well…bang.
Once he was fully seated, Georgie paused for just a second to catch her breath. This wasn’t going to take long. She fought like the devil to find some semblance of control, but it simply wasn’t there.
She stopped trying when Nick wrapped his arms around her, his fingers finding her clit.
“You’ve always wanted a quickie, George. Consider this a wedding present. I’ll fuck you for hours on end later.”
He stroked her clit, the touch the equivalent of opening the gates for the horses at the track. She began to thrust, treating herself to that hard, fast pounding beat that she loved.
She would have felt greedy for that if it weren’t so obvious Nick was just as crazy about it as she was.
One of his hands continued to pinch and play with her clit, while the other gripped her hip, adding his own strength to her ride. Georgie clung to the seat in front of her, using it to help her move.
Less than five minutes had passed, but Georgie was there. “Nick. I’m ready.”
“Me too, gorgeous.”
She took him at his word and gave up all restraint. She cried out loudly as she came, pleased when Nick followed her only a few seconds later.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat with her forehead pressed against the front seat. She could have stayed there quite happily for hours, her body sated, content. As always, Nick found his strength first.
He tugged her toward him, embracing her as her back rested against his chest. His soft cock was still nestled inside her.
“We really should go. Tonight isn’t just a New Year’s party. It’s our wedding reception.”
Georgie sighed. “Our friends won’t mind.”
Nick chuckled. “We’re going, George. We can’t let Jason and Kristen down.”
He was right. She knew it. And as soon as her head stopped swimming in a pool of estrogen, she’d find a way to move. Maybe.
After a few more quiet minutes, she stirred.
Nick helped her return her clothing to rights, then he refastened his pants. “I was starting to worry there,” he teased. “Not sure I’ve ever seen you sit still and be quiet for so long.”
“Very funny.” She started for the door, but Nick tugged her back into his lap, holding her close.
“I love you.”
Georgie wasn’t sure how three little words could cause such a surfeit of emotions inside her, but hearing them from Nick never failed to overwhelm her with joy, giddiness, excitement and her own overflowing feelin
gs of love.
“I love you too.”
Epilogue
Georgie nodded her thanks to Jake as she grabbed the bottle of champagne she’d ordered from the end of the bar.
“Grab a glass,” she called over her shoulder as the wine girls followed her down a narrow hallway and out into the alley behind Blue Moon.
“I have fond memories of this place,” Josie said, when the door closed behind them.
Georgie laughed. “No more sex stories from you. It’s a new year.”
Shelly glanced at her watch. “Is this going to take long, Georgie? For the first time in my life, I’m getting kissed at midnight. I really don’t want to miss it.”
“Five minutes. I promise. It’s too cold to stand out here any longer than that anyway.”
“You can say that again,” Kristen said as she and Laura huddled close to each other in search of warmth.
Georgie began to fill each of their champagne glasses. She upended the bottle, pouring the last of the bubbly into her own glass before setting it down.
Zoey looked around the circle. “This is a far cry from last year’s celebration.”
Laura laughed. “Yeah. It really is.”
“That’s why I asked you girls to come out here. I just wanted to say thank you. For the wine, the laughter, the advice—”
“The mimosas at six a.m.,” Laura added.
“The pizza and movie nights,” Kristen said.
“The wigs and the tissues,” Zoey included.
Shelly grinned. “The support and encouragement.”
Josie grabbed Shelly’s hand and squeezed it. “The babysitting.”
Georgie laughed as their list grew.
“So should we pick our resolutions for this year?” Zoey joked.
Georgie groaned and Kristen answered for them all. “Let’s all just resolve to stay friends.”
“Hear hear!” Laura said.
Kristen lifted her glass. “To friends. Now and forever.”
They clinked their glasses together and drank.
Then Georgie put a very impatient Shelly out of her misery. “Now let’s go get those New Year’s kisses.”
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Want to read the rest of the Wine Girls stories? They’re available now!
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Fix You
Dare You
Just You
Near You
Reach You
Always You
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Turn the page to read an excerpt from Fix You.
Fix You
After too many years of secretly loving her best friend, Zoey realizes it’s time to take action. This New Year’s Eve she’s going to tell Rob the truth about her feelings.
Her plan is derailed when she discovers a lump in her breast—and it’s not “nothing to worry about”. How can she ask Rob to take a chance on love when her future is so uncertain?
Rob has spent his entire life chasing his dream, but when Zoey reaches out to him, he realizes he’s been running the wrong race. His biggest challenge, though, is convincing his best friend that he’s in it for the long haul.
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Excerpt
Rob unlocked the door to the townhouse he’d shared with Zoey for a decade and a half. His band mates gave him shit about living with a gorgeous woman and not sleeping with her, but he wasn’t about to screw things up with his best friend. Zoey was more than an opportunity for sex. She was…everything to him.
As soon as he entered the house, he took a deep breath and sighed. He was home. A grin crossed his lips as he tried to determine the scent. Zoey was a candle addict, burning them constantly. This month’s flavor smelled like cinnamon. She often paired her scents with the time of the year—pumpkin spice in the fall, balsam and cedar over the holidays, beachy smells in the summer. He grumbled whenever she lit one, claiming he felt like he was living in a chick’s place. Truth was he liked the candles. They were one more thing that made their house feel like a home.
He glanced at the clock in the hallway. It was three a.m. Rob hadn’t been able to concentrate during tonight’s show, Zoey’s unusual phone call tugging on his conscience. As soon as the band walked off the stage, Rob got a taxi straight to the airport and hopped on the first flight home. Luckily he’d only been a state away. The up-and-down flight got him here in good time.
Chip, Express Train’s drummer, had gone ballistic when he’d said he was leaving, but he couldn’t ignore the voice that told him something was seriously wrong. He assured the guys he only needed to make sure Zoey was okay and that he’d meet them at the next venue in two days.
Mercifully the tour was winding down. Rob was sick of buses, the road, takeout food and all the crazy after-parties. More than a few times he’d recalled the saying Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it. He’d wanted to be a musician since the day he turned thirteen and got his first guitar, but now that Express Train was on the cusp of something big, he was second guessing that choice. Life on the road sucked.
There was a light on in the living room, so Rob passed the stairs and walked toward it. It was way too late for Zoey to still be awake, but it was unlike her to leave a light on. She was the queen of energy conservation.
He saw her the second he entered the room. She was fully dressed and sound asleep on the couch. She was surrounded by tissues. Fuck. He’d been right to come home. Zoey didn’t cry, but her puffy eyes betrayed she’d been doing quite a lot of that tonight.
His first thought was perhaps she’d suffered a broken heart, but she wasn’t dating anyone. Hadn’t had a steady boyfriend in over a year, ever since she finally made a clean break from Drake the Prick. Jesus, he hoped that abusive asshole hadn’t made his way back. Last time Zoey had seen her ex-boyfriend, Drake had given her a black eye. Rob had repaid the favor, only instead of one black eye, he’d left Drake with two, as well as a broken nose and four loose teeth. If Drake had come back—
Then Rob’s breath caught as he considered something even worse. Her parents weren’t exactly old—both of them only in their mid-sixties—but if something had happened to one of them, Zoey would be desolate, devastated. Her dad had been diagnosed with high blood pressure recently and Rob recalled Zoey worrying that her old man would die of a heart attack like her grandfather had. But why wouldn’t she have told him that on the phone?
He walked over and knelt in front of her. Her face was pale.
“Zoey,” he whispered, gently pushing her dark brown hair away from her eyes. He didn’t like seeing her so tired, so frail-looking. A surge of protectiveness rose up inside him. “Zoey. Wake up, baby. I’m home.” God. He must be tired. Where had that term of endearment come from?
Her eyelids lifted slowly. “Robbie?”
He grinned. She was the only person on the planet who still called him by his childhood nickname. The second he hit high school, he’d instructed his teachers and friends to call him Rob. Zoey was the only one who couldn’t make the switch. She’d told him he would always be Robbie to her. He liked the idea, so he didn’t pick a fight about it.
She sat up slowly. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged, then claimed the warm spot next to her on the couch. “I was worried about you.” He gestured to the tissues scattered on the floor and coffee table. “What happened?”
Her response was worse than words. She quite simply fell apart.
Rob reached for her, pulling her into his arms as she cried. “Shhh. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay. We’ll fix it.”
His words, rather than comfort her, seemed to open the floodgate even more. She clung to his shirt, loud sobs wracking her small frame. He held her tighter, each cry slashing through him more sharply than a machete. Twenty-five years of friendship and he could count on one hand the number of times she’d cried in front of him. His heart raced as his mind whirled over what could have happened. Jesus. Whatever it was, it was bad. Really fucking bad.
He tightened his arms
around her, desperate for a way to calm her. “You’re killing me, baby. Please. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
She shook her head against his chest.
He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Say it, Zoey. Fast. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”
“If I say it out loud, then it’s true.”
He wiped the tears away from her cheeks. “It’s true one way or the other. Tell me and we’ll take care of it together.”
“I have cancer.”
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Fix You is available now.
About the Author
Virginia native Mari Carr is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestseller of contemporary erotic romance novels. With over two million copies of her books sold, Mari was the winner of the Romance Writers of America’s Passionate Plume award for her novella, Erotic Research. She has over a hundred published works, including her popular Wild Irish and Compass books, along with the Trinity Masters series she writes with Lila Dubois.
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Find Mari Carr on the web at
www.maricarr.com
[email protected]