“Come here,” he said in a quiet growl.

I stepped closer to the bed but remained out of his reach. “When you say ‘the last night you’re f**king me before we’re married,’ do you mean that we are only going to have sex during daylight hours this week?”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “No. I mean that after tonight, I want to abstain until you’re my wife.”

An unfamiliar panic rose in my chest, and I wasn’t sure how seriously to take him. I climbed onto the bed and crawled over, bending to kiss my way down his chest. “I thought I knew what abstain meant, but in this context it sounds like you’re telling me on a Tuesday that we’ll be together all week but not having sex until Saturday.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Strong fingers tangled into my hair and urged my head lower, to where his c**k arched, rigid and slick with his own excitement.

I stopped the path of my lips just at his hips, which rose from the mattress in an effort to meet my mouth halfway. “Why on earth would you want to abstain?”

“Christ, Chlo, stop teasing and put my dick in your mouth.”

Ignoring him, I sat up and moved to straddle his thighs so he couldn’t easily escape if I decided to inflict some sort of bodily harm. “You’re insane if you think I’m going without sex for the next four days in the middle of this wedding nonsense.”

“I’m not insane,” he insisted, trying to pull me higher up his thighs so his man parts could get better access to my woman parts. “I want it to be special. And aren’t you the one who wanted a quickie before finishing the wedding prep?” His fingers dug into my hips and he lifted me, pulling me down directly over his cock. “So stop struggling.”

But I escaped by digging a finger into the single ticklish spot on his body, between two of his ribs, and with a spasm he released me, shoving my hands away.

I bent to kiss him once on his perfect, perfect mouth. “That was before you suggested that my access to this sincerely ridiculous body of yours expires at midnight. Saturday is our wedding night. As far as I know, we only get one of those. How could it not be special, even if you’re hitting it like a jackhammer all week long?”

“Maybe I want you a little hungry,” he whispered, sitting up beneath me. His mouth found my neck, my collarbones, my br**sts. “I want you so hungry for it that you can barely think straight.” He grew fevered, grasping at my sides, sucking my skin. I was all too aware of the hard press of him against my inner thigh, and wanted nothing more than to feel him inside, hear his sounds as he grew delirious and lost and urgent.

And then a thought occurred to me. “You mean you want me hungry enough to not care if you rip the ungodly expensive lingerie I bought for the wedding night.”

He laughed into my br**sts. “That’s a pretty good theory, but no.”

I knew Bennett Ryan well enough to know that I wasn’t going to win this battle. Not here, not yet. With him, I never won with words; I only ever won with actions. I kneeled over him, pulling away and smiling at his short, deep grunt of frustration. But then I turned my body so I could straddle his face at the same time I took his c**k into my mouth. He reached for me eagerly, hands splayed across my hips and pulling me down, down, down.

My eyes rolled closed at the first sensation of warmth, of the soft slide of his tongue followed by the seal and suction of his lips. I quickly grew lost in the vibration of his moans, his words muffled against me, the tiny tease of teeth before the suction was back and he grew wilder, and desperate. Below me, he rocked up, urging, and I wrapped my fist around his base, gazing at his length, appreciating its shape and smoothness. I loved the feel of him, the impatient jutting of his hips.

With a wicked smile, I exhaled over the tip of his cock, and whispered, “Your mouth feels so good.”

He groaned, pushing up meaningfully, but I simply moved closer, panting across the thick crown, letting him feel the heated pulse of my breath. I slid one hand lower, cupping his balls and pulling gently as my hand stroked just the lower half of his cock. On the tip, I gave him

only air.

He could make me come faster with his mouth than with any other part of him, and already I felt close. The physical sensation chased the pleasure from my own mischief and combined into an urgent warmth, my favorite kind of orgasm: Bennett’s mouth on my pu**y, with the joy I got from teasing him. My release burned like fire down my back, and up my legs, exploding outward until I really did lose all sense of my movements over him. I was most likely f**king his face, my fist wildly pulling his c**k without rhythm or purpose.