Craving The Wrong Brother (Sloane and Knox) novel Chapter 153

The doors open into our suite, one that's perfectly designed for a honeymoon. Candles. Rose petals scattered across the floor. The hotel staff did good.

I should be walking straight to the honeymoon bed, but for some reason, a bed filled with flowers seems too delicate for my first sexual encounter with my wife.

I let her shoes drop to the floor, kicking mine off too, and then I take her straight outside to the private pool.

She squeals when she realizes what I’m about to do. “Oh, my God, Knox. Don't you dare.”

I dare.

I take two quick steps and throw us both in. Her legs are around my waist, and her arms are still clutching my shoulders. She gasps as we sink in, then comes up choking on a laugh. Her glasses hang askew, and she adjusts them.

That laughter soon turns into a fake glare. “You are so annoying, Knox.”

“What did I do?”

“You know exactly what you did. I was in the mood. Now you’ve put out the fire.”

“Oh, baby…” I press her closer to me. “One touch, and I’ll get you back in the mood.”

She bites her lip as I start swimming toward the shallow end, taking her along with me. The water ripples between us.

When we reach the tanning ledge, I lift her up, guiding her onto the flat surface. I make sure she’s steady before I let go. Then I kiss her.

Her lips part right away. She's just as ready to be consumed as I am to consume her.

One of my hands finds its way between her thighs, and I slip my fingers inside her, easy at first—just enough to make her sigh into my mouth. Then deeper. She gasps and starts moving her hips, trying to find a rhythm against the hard edge of the pool. I can feel her clenching around me, so I push in further, curling my fingers to hit that sweet spot.

Her body starts moving with mine. Rocking. Grinding. Her ass nudges back against the ledge with every little shift, and it sends ripples through the water.

Her hands reach for me, searching, needy.

And God help me, I want to give her everything.

I ease her back until her spine hits the ledge, causing her elbows to give out so she lies flat. Then I grab her thighs, drag her toward me until her legs are folded up over my shoulders, and bury my face in her.

The taste that hits me is unmistakably her, even with the faint chemical edge of chlorine in the mix. It’s still her. Still warm and wet and mine. I don’t pause, don’t even think about it. I lick into her with purpose—slow at first, then with more pressure, tongue working every angle I know she loves. I drag it over her, back and forth, up and down, circling, flicking.

I’m not in any rush. I want to take my time and learn her all over again, every small reaction, every sound.

She arches a little when I suck on her clit, her body jolting. Her thighs tense around my head. I groan into her and push two fingers back inside, curling them just right, stroking that spot that always makes her go quiet before she falls apart.