The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2)

by Suzanne Halliday

  Aware that she was concentrating so hard her brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line, Sam slowed her roll and enjoyed the moment. He’d been an underwear model after all, and she’d seen the pictures. The man had a first class bulge that deserved a bit of dramatic flourish in the unveiling.

  It was all kinds of hot fun tugging on the zipper, and she had the heavy breathing to prove it. Intent on the task at hand, she carefully slid her hands around the waistband of the loosened pants and started to push them down.

  The air left her lungs in a rush when his sturdy thighs were revealed. My god. They were like tree trunks. He’d kicked off his slip-ons when the vest took a hike, so all it took was an easy tug and slide for the pants to pile on the floor.

  She leaned back and took him in with her eyes. Still wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled back, he stood his ground when her eyes moved to inspect the landscape south of his waist. Not all that hard to do since he was standing and she was sitting—which put his groin directly in her face.

  Until right this second, Sam hadn’t given much thought to a man’s underwear. It was always bras, panties, corsets, and stockings taking center stage in that showdown.

  It was strange how at the drop of a hat, or a zipper, things changed.

  The muscled majesty of his thighs was nothing compared to slim hips, defined abs, and of course, a goose bump-inducing happy trail.

  And the underwear? White, brief, and covering a shockingly prominent bulge.

  White shirt. White briefs. Big, uh. . .bulge. A Tolkien tattoo and a watch on a dark gray band.

  Sam licked her lips, raised her eyes, and encountered an aroused male watching her every move.

  “Your turn,” he murmured in a husky growl.

  They switched positions. He sat on the corner of the bed and waited. She moved into position right in front of him and had a minor panic attack when she felt like the clumsy, awkward, unsure-of-herself Jamie Lee Curtis character from the movie True Lies.

  Mr. Charming didn’t leave her hanging; he took control.

  “Ky’s face when you ladies walked toward us was priceless.”

  She could swear her skin heated up wherever he looked, and it was a bit disconcerting.

  “I was so busy taking in his reaction that I missed the other girls. When I saw you coming down the aisle with the slave jewelry on your feet, something inside snapped.”

  He ran one finger from the band of her halter, down her stomach, to the top of the knotted sarong.

  Her heart boomed, and she swallowed a lump of smoldering desire that lodged in her throat. His eyes met hers and the full force of his sexy magnetism hit her. Then his gaze slowly dropped. First to her neck. He studied her so intently she was sure just thinking about the stinging nips of his teeth on her skin left marks.

  Then he swung his eyes side to side on her bare shoulders. From there, it was a short trip to her chest. She recalled the touch of his hand on her flesh and quivered.

  “Jesus, Samantha. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”

  She didn’t need to hear anything else.

  “Untie the knot,” she huskily murmured. Cocking her hip to make it easy, she touched his head when he bent it to concentrate. His hair was soft and just long enough to grip.

  Her heart did a series of gymnastic moves when he parted the untied fabric with a reverence that made her tremble.

  “Aw, fuck,” he groaned as the sarong piled on the floor, and he reached for her hips. His big hands squeezing her butt caused a flood in the skimpy lingerie he ogled. The predominant color in her outfit was shades of purple, so she’d picked up a pair of indecently sheer micro-panties that offered zero modesty, hardly any coverage, and were little more than a scrap of material. He was mauling her ass with his big hands and staring up at her.

  “Lose the top,” he ordered. His eyes shone with satisfaction when she obeyed at supersonic speed.

  Sam knew her boobs were pretty spectacular. Not too small and not too big, she had what Andi, Lisa, and Julie called Goldilocks Tits. As she lifted her arms to pull the halter off, they jiggled from the movement. His accompanying grunt got her attention in a hurry.

  The butt massage eased as he boldly raked her nearly naked body with his eyes.

  Then something flashed in his expression. Annoyance? Regret?

  She took hold of his face and forced him to meet her eyes. “What?”

  With half a smirk, he replied, “Current status? Idiot. Totally regret not putting more than one condom in my wallet.”

  “Oh, great,” she huffed. “Isn’t this always the way, though?” she asked with a resigned shrug. “Guess that means an orgasm remains on the bucket list.”

  She was just messing with him, so the fire of indignation in his expression was worth it.

  “No, no, no, no, no. That’s not how this works, Samantha. Believe me, darlin’, you’ll be coming a long time before I need the industrial wrap.”

  Wiggling out of his hold, she put on quite a performance on the way to the nightstand, where she pulled open the drawer, took out the carton of thirty-six condoms Andi had made her buy, and tossed them on the bed.

  “Remember the Girl Scout thing?” She giggled when his eyes went big and round as he looked at the box, at her, and then at the box again. “Always be prepared,” she joked. Using her hands to scoop up her breasts, she stood there covering her attributes and watched his face.

  He recovered pretty quickly and grabbed the box. Inspecting the label for only God knew what, he chuckled, turned it over in his hands, looked at her with admiration shining in his eyes, and chuckled again.

  “Thought it was the Boy Scouts who were prepared.”

  She scoffed. “Equal opportunity phrase. A smart Girl Scout knows to fill in the gaps.”

  “And you thought thirty-six was a good filler?”

  “Well shit, Mr. Charming! It’s better than one!”

  He roared with laughter. “Okay. So how do you wanna do this? Dump ‘em out in a pile or rip ‘em apart and toss around the room for easy retrieval when things get wild?”

  She was considering what he said when Ryan rose and came at her. It wasn’t until he was right on top of her that she saw he’d been joking around. Removing his shirt, he said, “There. We’re even now.”

  She modeled her ankle jewelry and smirked. “Not entirely even.”

  He held up his watch.

  With a great flourish, she released her boobs and made a courtly bow. “Well played, Ryan. Well played.”

  Before she righted, he’d picked her up and thrown her onto the bed. The last thing she saw before hitting the mattress was him mimicking an evil villain complete with greedy hand gestures, mimed mustache rolling, and a rollicking good, “He, he, he.”

  “Oof,” she grunted when her ass landed.

  He launched in her direction saying, “And now, my pretty, prepare to be eaten by the big bad wolf.”

  Sliding noiselessly off the bed, Sam stood on legs made of jelly, felt her thighs quiver, and reached out to steady herself.

  Whoa. Her whole body felt a little like when she tried running a 5K marathon without seriously training first.

  Taking an exploratory step, she quietly yelped and jumped half a mile when her foot landed on something prickly.

  What the hell?

  It was the torn remnants of a condom packet. Bending over, she took it from between her toes and flung it away. That was when she saw the area around the bed littered with them.

  She looked at the ottoman shoved to the foot of the bed and felt a full-body blush bloom on her skin when she recalled why. Leaning to the side, she inspected the floor nearby and yep, condom wrapper. That time had come close to being a disaster. With her knees on the ottoman and her ass in the air, as she lay on the mattress, Ryan had been so eager for her body that he almost forgot the protection. Scrambling wildly, he’d saved the day and entered her from behind with a mighty thrust that nearly sent her across the mattress. />
  Shivering from the reminder, Sam quickly glanced at his sleeping form, smiled, and went back to creeping into the bathroom.

  Her enemy, bathroom lighting, delivered quite a punch when the aftermath of their wild and oh-so-sexy antics was revealed in the mirror.

  Uh-oh.

  She looked well used and completely satisfied. Mauled by the Alpha. Would make a great movie title.

  Repairing the damage took some time, but when she left the bathroom, she’d tamed her hair and removed her makeup properly. Fresh-faced and with a growling stomach, she tiptoed back to the bed.

  What was the protocol in these situations? Did she crawl back under the covers? Should she run around and tidy things up? Biting her thumbnail as she contemplated her options, she jumped when the large lump in her bed groaned and shifted position.

  An arm wrestled from under the covers and stretched out—searching? Encountering empty space, the lump groaned again only, this time, it sounded more like grunted disappointment. Then the covers were flung back, and a disheveled looking alpha sat up, sighed, yawned, and scraped his hands on his head before one crept down the center of his chest and dropped into his lap. The other hand half-covered his eyes.

  She knew how he felt.

  His first attempt to speak was a hoarse croak. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Sam?”

  Happy dancing with a hangover was not advisable, but she sure wanted to do a victory lap because that was right! Just as he said, when they came together that first time and he’d reduced her to a puddle of goo, he’d shouted her name in ecstasy and formed an intimate, just-between-them bond that lifted her spirits and wiped her inhibitions—what was left of them—and any residual doubts clear away.

  “I’m right here,” she answered quietly. “Sorry. Had to make a bathroom run.”

  “Get your ass up here,” he growled. Slapping the mattress next to him, he opened one eye and watched her.

  She crawled next to him, and he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a spoon position. With his face buried in her hair and a hand full of boob, he murmured, “Mmm. Good morning. You smell good.”

  She laughed softly. “Good morning to you as well and goddamn but you smell awful.”

  He ground out a terse sounding, “Shit,” threw back the covers, climbed over her, and rolled off the bed. She watched his gorgeous ass and those mouth-watering thighs as he hurried into the bathroom.

  Five minutes later, an even better view of Ryan Sommerfield sauntered toward the bed. Led by his handsome cock, which moved as he walked, and gave new meaning to the term swoon-worthy prominence, he climbed over her again, settled in behind, and pulled her close.

  “Better?” he asked with his lips on her shoulder.

  “Yes.” Sam put her hand on top of his, the one fondling a breast, and made a noise that didn’t qualify as a growl but came damn close. At the same time, she wiggled her butt against his groin.

  He didn’t need further invitation. She whimpered when his teeth sank into her shoulder at the same time that he plucked her nipple with insistent fingers.

  Wiggling again, she gasped when he shifted his hardness away from her ass. Her disappointment was short-lived, though, because his hand moved from her chest, down her torso, and went straight for her greedy clit.

  The man had talented fingers; knew exactly what touches sent her flying and had her writhing and desperate in record time. He was doing crazy things to her shoulder blades and neck as he fingered her to an exquisite climax.

  Quivering from the power of her response, she was still flying when he flipped her onto her back, rose up, spread her thighs, and confidently declared, “Pussy. Breakfast of champions.”

  She had two seconds to comprehend his intent before Ryan dove between her legs and licked her to a second unreal explosion. Then he chuckled, flipped her again, pulled on her hips until she was on her knees facedown, and followed up with a hearty ass smack.

  The familiar sound of a packet being torn open came next and then he was inside her and not in a way she’d describe as gentle.

  She liked this about him. He made love and fucked furiously with equal fervor. Apparently, this morning he wanted the furious fucking, and she was totally okay with that.

  He fisted her hair in one hand and reached for a bouncing tit with the other. On each ferocious thrust, he let loose with an earthy grunt that spurred a continuous flood of hot arousal to leak from her body.

  His grip on her hair tightened. Her pussy quivered knowing what was coming. She moaned and thrust her ass backward to meet each stroke.

  The lewd, sexy sounds filling the air were her downfall. Frantically grabbing the bed linen, she lost control as he grunted, “Fuck,” and picked up speed.

  He slammed into her body over and over as Sam surrendered to the insane lust they provoked in each other.

  An orgasm so powerful she cried out when it hit shook her body and made her pussy explode with fierce spasms. He went right after her, calling her name as he stroked and ground his cock into her as deep as he could.

  “Sam,” he grunted. “Sam!”

  He collapsed on top of her with his cock still throbbing inside her. Crushed against the mattress, she didn’t complain. Something was oddly comforting about his big body covering hers.

  When he caught his breath, Ryan rolled them to the side and carefully pulled out. His harshly muttered, “Shit,” didn’t sound good.

  She looked over her shoulder to see what was wrong and found him wearing a rueful expression and what looked like a warm blush.

  “Are you okay,” she asked in a small voice because at that moment she wasn’t entirely sure she retained the power of words after their intense coupling.

  He deserved credit for not shying away from the matter at hand and immediately confessed, “There was some leaking.”

  Maybe if she’d been fully aware, his words would have made sense, but she wasn’t and asked, “The condom broke?”

  “Uh, not broken,” he assured her. “More like a rain cap trying to contain a tsunami.”

  Well, damn. That didn’t sound good. She did some fast arithmetic in her head, tried not to freak out, and then concluded there was no way they’d be that unlucky.

  “Should I be worried?” she asked.

  He didn’t say anything right away so she rolled onto her back and looked up at him. “Ryan?”

  An odd, wistful expression crossed his face right before he leaned down and kissed her.

  “I think we’re at the mercy of the universe.”

  The ramifications of what he was saying overwhelmed Sam. How much more trouble could they possibly borrow before this whole thing became a study in absurdity? She was falling for someone who she’d known less than a week. Someone who lived on the other side of the country. Someone she’d given herself to with such soul-shattering abandon that she wasn’t sure where that left her.

  Crushing, unexpected sadness seized her entire body. She just knew this wasn’t going to end well. What had they done? In their haste to seize the moment, they’d acted like impetuous kids, and she was pretty sure no proprieties had been present.

  Vaulting over her to get off the bed, he stood, took her hand, and tugged. “I can hear your brain switching to overload. Let’s continue this in the shower.”

  She didn’t resist. A nice warm shower would go a long to way to calming her fluttery nerves.

  Holy fuck. Talk about things not going as planned. Ryan couldn’t believe the shocking turn of events marring their otherwise exquisitely enjoyable time together.

  There hadn’t been a lot to say once they hit the shower. Aware that things were in motion that they couldn’t control, you’d think they’d behave but such was not the case. Naked, vulnerable, confused, and barely managing to keep his constant arousal in check, a slew of erotic possibilities invaded his mind and senses. Something about warm, steamy, and wet invited all sorts of scenarios.

  The joke was on him, though, because Samantha ran the
show, starting with a bottle of the most outrageously delicious smelling coconut vanilla body wash and a surprisingly arousing shower pouf. What she did with that unusual equipment turned his entire body to stone. His mind carefully photographed her every move so he’d remember in explicit detail the bright red pouf, her soft, dainty hands, and the mountains of fragrant suds hanging off his rigid cock.

  He found something out in that shower too. She had a thing about his legs. Specifically his thighs. There wasn’t a guy on the planet who didn’t get off on the sight of a sexy woman on her knees staring up at him. When Samantha did it, though, she was running the red suds covered pouf up and down his thighs with religious precision so not a single patch of skin was left unwashed.

  He’d been so turned on and so amazed at her worshipful stroking of his legs that he couldn’t recall ever being that close to losing control.

  Did she bring their wet, steamy interlude home with a mind-numbing oral completion that left him shaking? Yes, yes, she did. He had the memory of his thundering grunts and cries, as she devastated his senses in ways he could barely comprehend, to prove it too.

  He was in a hurry, skirting along the edge of the pathway leading to his room, eager to get back to her as soon as he could. It wasn’t only unusual for him to be making a walk of shame in last evening’s crumpled clothes, but it was also a first. Samantha Evers was a bundle of firsts.

  When he left her to run back to his room and get clothes, she was smiling and still smugly proud of her shower performance. Her word because she told him several times how eager she was to go back and revisit scene two as she called it. That was when she had him kneel so she could wash his hair and he took advantage of their positions to do all sorts of lovely, incredibly hot things to her lush body. He rather liked her riding his fingers as he watched from his knees and enjoyed a close-up, front-seat view of her coming in epic fashion.

  They had this whole day together, and he planned to take full advantage. And he didn’t just mean physically. She’d mentioned an interest in one of the local tourist spots that he wanted to take her to. Anything that interested Samantha, interested him.