49. SARA

“This suite has two living rooms,” I marvel as we step into the place.

The Sapphire is a downtown luxury boutique hotel that doesn’t have a designated honeymoon suite per se, but the Presidential Suite will do in a pinch. It’s 2,000 square feet of over-the-top luxury, and about ten times the size of the rec center storeroom.

Smells better, too.

“I’m just glad it wasn’t booked tonight,” Chance says, tossing his keys in a ceramic dish on the side table. “I’d like to make up for this crazy last-minute wedding somehow. This is a start.”

“A start?” I say. “This place is bigger than the block I grew up on.”

He grins. “Should I order up some champagne and what-not?”

“Tell you what,” I say, gripping the collar of his shirt. “You take care of the champagne. I’ll take care of the what-not.”

His eyes bulge as I slink toward the bedroom.

“Don’t get lost on the way,” I say. “This place is huge.”

By the time he arrives, I’m naked under the bubbles in the oversized pedestal tub that occupies a corner of the bedroom.

“What took you so long?” I ask, stretching out a leg to give him a good, long look.

“Just had to take care of a couple of things,” he says, wasting no time in pulling off his shirt.

“I think you should be taking care of your wife, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I do.”

He stumbles trying to yank off the rest of his clothes at once. I giggle as he picks himself off the floor, finally naked, and joins me in the tub.

“My wife,” he says softly as he sits down. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Wow.”

Part of me wants to stop this right now and have a long talk about where we’re going. What happens after the end of the month? If the sale goes through? If it doesn’t go through and we beat Pearce’s ass? Where are we going to be in two weeks?

The rest of me tells that part to shut the hell up as I reach under the bubbles and grab Chance’s cock.

“I heard a joke once,” I say, stroking.

“Wh-what’s that?” he sighs.

“Why are brides always smiling as they walk down the aisle?”

“I,” he moans. “Don’t know. Wh-why?”

“Because they know they’ve given their last blowjob.”

“Huh.” It’s more a grunt than a laugh.

“I never really understood it,” I say. “I mean, why would any woman want to give up blowjobs?”

With that, I dunk my head under the water and take him into my mouth. It’s something I’ve always wondered about, and I figure what better time than my wedding night to try it?

Chance hardens to concrete in an instant as I work up and down on his shaft for a few seconds. I do a lot of cardio, so I like to think I can hold my breath for a respectable amount of time. At least long enough to feel him start pulsing in my mouth.

Finally, I can’t keep it up any longer and I surface with a gasp, pulling my hair back from my face and blinking the water out of my eyes.

“Well,” I say. “That was fun.”

Chance floats toward me and wraps his chiseled arms around me.

“Yeah, it was,” he says. “Except I missed your face.”

He pulls me in for a sloppy, wet, hungry kiss that’s almost all tongue. Meanwhile, he grabs my thighs and pulls them apart to make way for his powerful hands.

“Okay, buddy,” I sigh in his ear. “You’re going to be getting blowjobs from this wife for a while yet.”

His fingers go to work on me, and in less than a minute, I’m ready to go. I disengage from him and stand up, then turn and bend so that I’m propping myself on the edge of the tub.

“See anything you like?” I say over my shoulder.

Two seconds later and I’m shuddering as the length of Chance’s shaft glides inside me. Thank God I’m holding the tub or I would have fallen right out onto the floor.

His hands grab my hips and pull me back to him, slamming me into his hips and making my ass jiggle. It’s like a firecracker is going off deep inside me.

“Again,” I say. “Hard.”

Another smacking sound, another shudder.

“Faster,” I pant.

He hesitates. “I have to get a condom.”

“I went on the pill after our first time,” I say, pushing back into him and giving myself another jolt. “It’s been seven days. Don’t stop.”

Chance takes that as his marching orders, and suddenly he’s driving like a jackhammer. All conscious thought escapes me as pure, unadulterated physical pleasure fills me. It feels dirty and sexy and oh, so right.

“Fuck me, baby,” I moan. “Fuck me as hard as you can.”

Suddenly he finds a whole new gear and he’s pistoning against me with abandon. It’s all I can do to hold onto the tub as wave after wave flows over me, making me tremble with pleasure and the effort of staying upright. Finally I have only Chance’s powerful hands on my hips keeping me from falling.

“Oh God,” he pants. “God, Sara…”

He explodes like a missile inside me as I come, over and over again. My brain has turned to mush – there’s only my body and his, and infinite ecstasy.

Finally he lowers me back into the water, then collapses into it himself. We float there for a long time in each other’s arms.

“Holy shit,” he says when we finally get our breathing back under control.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “If that’s married sex, I’m all for it.”

“Champagne should be here by now,” he says.

Suddenly I’m mortified. “Oh my God,” I gasp, feeling blood rushing into my cheeks. “What if they heard us?”

“Out in the hall?” he says. “We’re good, but I don’t think we’re that good.”

And just as suddenly, I’m strangely disappointed.

“Well, then,” I say, wrapping my arms around him. “I guess we’re just going to have to keep on practicing until we get it right.”