Brutal Billionaire Bonus Scene
April, a year later
Brystin
Holt starts undoing the zipper of my reception dress as soon as he sets me down in the darkened foyer. Tomorrow we’ll leave for a private island off of Qatar, but it’s late, and so we decided to spend our honeymoon night here at Adeline. It was easiest since the after wedding festivities were here as well.
The best part? Adly made a strict declaration that everyone be off the premises by eleven pm. Well, not the best part as far as Holt is concerned, since he really doesn’t care if we have an audience. While I loved having friends and family with us today, I’m more than ready to have the house to ourselves tonight.
My stomach flutters as Holt kisses the back of my neck. A year and a half together, and the man still gives me butterflies.
“You know being carried over the threshold isn’t the only wedding night tradition.” With my dress open, he reaches around me to cup my breast.
I sigh, leaning into him. “It better involve being naked, or I don’t want to hear it.”
Holt loves me more than I ever imagined I could be loved. He tells me often in both words and actions. I would have married him the minute he proposed if he hadn’t wanted to give me the wedding of my dreams. The big fairytale church wedding I never thought I’d have.
That kind of wedding took a year of intense planning, all of it worth the wait when Holt proclaimed the most beautiful vows of love and devotion to me in front of what felt like all the world. (Five hundred people, anyway. Becoming a Sebastian comes with an entourage.)
I never thought I’d find a woman I wanted to spend my life with, let alone find that the most incredible woman ever born would want to spend her life with me. I’m the richest man on earth, not because of what I was born to, but because of this moment right now. The privileges I’ve been granted pale in the comparison to the privilege of loving you, honeybee. I promise to always try to be worthy of keeping you.
I cried like a baby. Despite the tears, I could listen to him declare his love for hours on end.
But as much as I cherish the adoration, tonight I need him to love me like I’m his dirty little whore.
“It involves you being naked.” My dress still technically, his hand lowers to my aching pussy. “I knew you weren’t wearing panties.”
“You hoped.”
“Uh uh.” He slips a finger inside me, and my back arches. “I have a sixth sense when it comes to you. I can spot your bare cunt from across a crowded room.”
I laugh, but it turns into a moan when he adds a second finger. He nips the skin along my neck up to my ear. “I need you to make that sound again, Mrs. Sebastian.”
He doesn’t have to ask. I was already incredibly aroused, but hearing my new name sends me even higher. When his thumb finds my clit, I lose myself in the orgasm I’ve been waiting for all day long.
He pulls his wet fingers out of my pussy and brings them to my mouth where he rubs my cum over my lips. When my tongue comes out, ready to lick up the mess he made, he stops me.
“No, that’s mine,” he says, then licks along my bottom lip. “Mm. Better than wedding cake.”
I turn into him, letting my dress fall off my shoulders and to the floor as I do, and the rest of my cum gets devoured in a hungry kiss.
“Need you,” I plead against Holt’s mouth, my hands working at his belt.
He brings his hands to cradle my face and kisses me again, his tongue invading me in ways that feel like a precursor to how he’ll invade me with his cock. Despite my recent orgasm, my body is desperate and empty, and when my fingers come in contact with his hot, hard flesh, I practically melt on the spot.
It’s too much, sometimes. Knowing my want is reciprocated. Knowing his desire is coiled with love. There’s no way I’ll make it to the bedroom. I have to be fucked right here in the foyer. Have to be fucked right now.
But Holt being Holt, has other plans.
He releases his lips from mine and carefully extricates my hand from his pants. He brings it up to place a kiss on the knuckle above my four carat diamond engagement that now rests above the platinum band that matches the one on his left hand.
Then he says the cruelest four letter word I’ve ever heard come from his mouth. “Wait.”
“I can’t!”
He’s already turned away. He leads me behind him (without any effort because I need to be wherever he is) until we reach the edge of the large living space. Then he stops and says another cruel four letter word. “Stay.”
“But—”
He places a finger to my lips. “We have to follow all the traditions. Don’t want to curse our marriage, do we?”
He’s poking fun at me. Teasing me for all the traditions I insisted we follow so that our wedding wouldn’t be jinxed. I wore something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue as required of a bride. The top tier of our cake is currently in deep freeze until our one year anniversary. I tossed my bouquet; he tossed my garter. With much complaint on his part, I made him spend last night in a hotel. Any tradition I could find, I made sure we honored it. “The only tradition we haven’t followed yet is the one where the groom puts his cock inside his bride. Repeatedly.”
His smile is broad. “You’re so fucking beautiful with dirty words on your tongue.”
I didn’t know I had any glow left after glowing all day, but I feel the radiance in my face at his praise. “Then reward me with the goods.”
I reach again for his cock, but he takes a step backward, and when I try to follow, he repeats his last command. “Stay.”
He keeps his eyes pinned to me as he slowly continues to back away, reminding me of the first time I stood (nearly) naked in front of him, in this very house. The intensity of that stare as he jerked off in front of me is nothing compared to the intensity of the way he looks at me now.
“I read all the books, Holt. Every website. There isn’t a tradition where the bride ‘stays’.”
He cocks his brow at my phrasing. “I’m pretty sure that marriage is exactly a tradition where the bride stays.”
“You know what I mean.” I take a step forward, and I swear he growls. Pouting, I return to my spot. “What the hell tradition are you talking about?”
He doesn’t speak until he’s all the way across the dark room, almost to the floor to ceiling windows that look out across the moonlit yard. The main lights are out in the house so I can easily see outside. The tents at the side of the lawn where the reception food was served are the only remnants of today’s celebration, yet I can still feel the presence of all our friends and family gathered out there together.
But I’m not looking out the windows. I’m looking at my husband. He pulls a velvet upholstered wingback out of its place so that it's centered and facing me. Then he sits on it with all the grandeur of a king on his throne. “The tradition where the bride comes to her groom,” he says finally.
I resist rolling my eyes. What was it he thought I was trying to do?
But then he adds, “On her knees.”
I didn’t think it was possible to be any more turned on, but my heat level just went from two to five chile peppers in a single breath. “I suppose it’s also tradition that the bride be naked.”
“Bonus blessings for sure.”
God, I love this man.
My heart is full and hammering in my chest. Lust pulses through my veins. I’ll gladly fall on my knees for him, and have many times, but this moment has weight that makes me dizzy and my legs weak. It’s a silly made-up tradition, and yet I’m all in.
My hesitation is only to process the overwhelming emotions, but Holt interprets it otherwise. “In love enough to wear my ring, but not to crawl to me?”
I shake my head.
Then decide to give him a better answer—I fall to my fours and slowly start toward him.
The room is large. There’s probably twenty feet between me and him. Crawling makes the distance feel double. The copper floor is cold on my bare knees, and my breasts swing, heavy and awkward. The air kicks on, sending goosebumps all along my body. I’m shivering and uncomfortable, but I barely notice anything other than Holt. Holt’s eyes fixed on me. The twin fires burning in his dark pupils. He can’t look away, and neither can I.
Funny, how I’m on the ground in submission, and I’ve never felt more powerful.
Holt’s cock is out before I’m halfway across the room. His hand pumps lazily up and down. When I reach him, it’s the first thing I go for. I shift to my knees, place my hands on his thighs and lean down to lick the drop of moisture off his crowns, my gaze never leaving his.
I want to put the whole of him in my mouth, but before I can even make the attempt, he bends over and lifts me to his lap. Without even trying, my pussy finds his length, and I sink down on him, finally feeling relief.
He groans, closing his eyes briefly when I slowly gyrate my hips in a circle. “You came to me,” he says, cupping my face with his palm. “That’s it. All the traditions, fulfilled. We’re fated to be together forever now because you crawled to me.”
I raise and lower myself on him at a torturously unhurried pace. I won’t be able to last long at this tempo, but I’m not the only one suffering, and he deserves a little discomfort. “I’d crawl across the earth for you.”
“And I’d burn it all down for you.”
He already did. Burned the world he knew down, anyway.
This time his moan is drawn out. His hand moves from my face to my breast, and he kneads it with measured patience. His face lifts, his mouth searching for mine.
Before he captures my lips and words are lost for the night, I manage one last thought—a promise as much as a prediction. “So now we build a new world. Together.”