Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade Book 5) by Crystal Kaswell Page A

mark every inch of the room."
    "Oh." That sounds much more appealing. It's not nearly as interesting as his lips on my skin or the weight of his body sinking into mine. Between the corset sucking the life out of me and the heat pooling between my legs, I'm struggling to form a response. "We're married."
    Miles doesn't mock me. If anything, he looks even more excited than I am.
    He nods, his lips curling into a smile. "Yeah, we are. Never fucked a wife before."
    "You sure? You’ve fucked a lot of women."
    He laughs, then kisses me. "Never fucked my wife before." He looks me up and down. "Fuck, you look amazing in that dress."
    "Really?"
    He nods. "Like a princess."
    "That makes you my prince."
    "Princess, nobody would mistake me for a prince."
    I shake my head. "You are my prince, Miles. You saved me."
    He presses his forehead to mine. "I know. You saved me too."
    Again, Miles tugs at my dress. Again, he fails. He reaches around for the corset back, breaking the kiss to watch his work in the mirror.
    His lips find my neck. He plants kisses over my skin, settling on the spot where my ear meets the back of my head. "These mirrors are giving me ideas."
    Me too. And I love the ideas. I open my mouth to express my enthusiasm, but the only thing I can articulate is a groan.
    It gets the point across.
    By the time the elevator arrives at our floor, Miles has my corset half-unlaced. It's not enough for the dress to slip. It's only enough that it makes it possible to breathe.
    He leads me to the suite in the corner, unlocks the door, and kicks it open. Just like on the afternoon of our engagement, he leans down, scoops me into his arms, and carries me across the threshold.
    I cling to his chest until he sets me down. The room is amazing. It's the size of the first floor of his mansion. There's a bedroom, a living area and a full-blown kitchen. Fuck. It might be bigger than our new apartment.
    We have a new apartment.
    We really have a life together now.
    We're married.
    Before I can think, his lips find mine.
    I kiss him back. My tongue slides into his mouth. My hands curl into his hair. My back arches. I try to press my hips to his, but with the layers of tulle, I can't feel a thing.
    "Turn around," he mumbles into my neck.
    I do.
    Miles runs his fingertips off my shoulders. Slowly, he pulls out the pins holding up my hair. Bit by bit, the wavy strands fall over my back and shoulders. I sigh with relief. That was a tight updo.
    He brushes my hair out of the way. His hand settles on the back of my dress. He undoes the lace-up back as he plants kisses on my neck. It must take five minutes before the dress is loose enough he can slide it to my hips.
    I step out of it and turn around to face him.
    My husband.
    He's mine forever.
    As usual, he's patient and I'm panting. But I can't say I mind.
    Fuck patience. I want him immediately. I undo the hooks of my longline and toss it aside. I slide my crinoline off my hips.
    I'm in nothing but lacy white boy shorts, my shiny silver flats, and my rings, and Miles is looking at me like I'm just as beautiful as I was in my gown.
    His hands go to my hips. He drops to his knees to slide my panties to my ankles and help me out of my shoes. Then he's spreading my legs wider.
    He kisses his way up my thigh. He’s hungrier than usual, less patient. He plants his face between my legs and licks me up and down.
    My husband is eating me out.
    I dig my hand into his hair. The other goes to the wall behind me to help me keep my balance. Anticipation has me shaking. I can barely stand up straight.
    The man is damn good at this. Pleasure builds in my core as he works me. Within moments, I'm at the edge.
    I squeeze my thighs against his cheeks to contain the pleasure welling up inside me.
    Fuck.
    Almost.
    There.
    All that tension knots tighter and tighter then it releases. I scream his name as I come. Pleasure spills to my fingers and toes.
    "Miles," I groan. I tug at his hair for good measure.
    Miles pushes