claimed me. I couldn’t get enough of that.
His hand rained down on my backside, the stinging a familiar pain within a matter of seconds. The last smack of his hand stung enough that I cried out.
“There we go,” he groaned. “Tell me what you need, Sophie. Tell me what you want.”
I hesitated only a moment, long enough for him to drop two burning smacks on my ass. “I want you, Grant. I need . . . I need you to fuck me.”
I didn’t even hear his buckle or zipper, but a hand sank into my hair, pulling lightly—just the right amount—as his cock slid against my core. He groaned, tugged on my hair, and filled me with one thrust. It had been too long since we’d done this, too long to go slow.
“Wrists behind your back,” he said, with a slap to my hip. I crossed my wrists against my lower back and arched it, opening myself as much as I could for him, stretching my neck as he tugged my hair with each thrust.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “So good.” And god, it was. I felt claimed, cherished. His. This would have been erotic before, but now that he’d said he loved me and I knew it was true, it was melting me from the inside out.
He fucked me, the table scooting forward a fraction of an inch at a time, with the power of his thrusts. His other hand snaked around my hips, and his fingers slid between my legs. I gasped at the tapping, the rhythm matching his cock inside me, rushing me toward orgasm.
“What a good girl.” He thrust without rhythm, his breath catching. “Come for me now .”
I cried out—no thought to where I was or who might hear. “Grant!” I said, then dissolved into wordless moans and shouts. He growled and slammed forward, spilling deep inside me while I spasmed around him.
“Oh,” he breathed. Then he hissed and groaned, “ Sophie .”
The pleasure had barely ebbed when he pulled me up, my arms falling to my sides, and raked the dress down off my breasts. He held them, kneaded them, while he kissed my neck, moaning softly against my skin.
“You are so fucking beautiful.”
I shuddered as he thrust, nearly lifting me off my feet, the pendant bouncing between my breasts. Our breathing slowed, his hands on my breasts stroking more slowly, thumbs brushing the nipples and sending little tendrils of pleasure spreading outward.
When he slipped from my body, he pulled my dress back into place to cover my breasts and my bottom again. Grant wrapped both arms around my waist and pressed his lips against my neck.
“I love you,” he said, another clear statement. This was absolutely real.
“And I love you,” I said, a shiver of pleasure and relief prompting him to hold me tighter.
Then Grant took my hand and led me back to our table, but pulled me down to sit sideways across his lap. He lifted my hand that now bore his ring and turned it in the candlelight.
“That looks much better on you.”
“I agree. Are you—”
The doors to the terrace flung outward, and a server in black and white came toward us with a smile. “I apologize for the delay. Have you decided . . .” He looked at the broken glassware and candles littering the floor.
Grant waved his hand. “Oh, I apologize for the mess. You see, we . . . well, why don’t you tell him, sweetheart?”
Grant raised an eyebrow and looked to be fighting a laugh. His hand patted my thigh.
I cleared my throat and regarded the man as innocently as I could. “I’m so sorry. We bumped against it.”
A slight snort escaped Grant as he tried not to laugh. He nodded his approval of my half-truth, then gestured at the server. “Feel free to add the cost of those items to my bill. But if you could clean it up after we leave, I’d appreciate that.”
The server took our order, but Grant didn’t move for me to get off his lap. The man did side-eye us before he left, but frankly I didn’t care. Then what he’d said really sunk in.
He’d apologized for the delay.
“I thought you’d paid them to stay out for a