“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 fucking 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 cock 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 breasts. “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 breasts. “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 cock 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 pussy, 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 fucking his face, my fist wildly pulling his cock without rhythm or purpose.

He slowed as my body calmed, and kissed my clit, my hip, my thigh, before gently pushing me so that I rolled over onto my back. I slid my hand up my stomach, over my breast, and rested it on top of my pounding heart. I hadn’t forgotten that I was probably in trouble for offering Bennett’s favorite foreplay without reciprocating, but damn, I needed a minute to relish the effects of the Mighty Bennett Ryan Oralgasm.

“That was so fucking good,” I mumbled, catching my breath. “I think your mouth is its own Greek god. Tongueseus.”

He climbed over me, eyes on fire. “I know what you’re doing.”

I opened my eyes and let the blurry shape of him form before asking, “What am I doing?”

He moved to straddle my ribs, and I smiled, running my hands up his thighs as he reached for himself, and made a long, slow pull down his length. His voice came out like liquid smoke when he said, “You think you’ll win this battle.”

“What battle?”

He laughed, and reached for the mattress beside my head, bracing himself as he hovered over me. His cock was only an inch from my mouth and he leaned forward and, with his free hand, rubbed the tip over my bottom lip. Without thinking, I slid my tongue out, tasting the small bit of wetness there. I felt my mouth water, my nipples tighten. I wanted him in my mouth, wanted to see him move in, and out.

He moved back a few inches so I had to watch as he stroked himself slowly in front of me.

“I can see your pulse in your neck.”

Swallowing, I asked, “So?”

“So,” he started, wearing a cocky smile, “I can see how much you want this.” He leaned forward again, barely touching his cock to my lips before retreating. “You want it in your mouth.” His hand began to move faster, and I heard his breath catch. “You want it on your tongue.”

He was right. I wanted it so much my skin felt tight and overheated.

“Not as much as you do,” I said, voice strained. “You couldn’t go a day without sex.”

He paused before leaning back and pushing himself farther down my body. For a single, perfect moment, I thought he was going to spread my legs and angry-fuck the daylights out of me, but instead he tilted his head, looked down at me, and then stood.

“What are you doing?” I asked, pushing up onto one elbow so I could watch him pull on his boxers.

“Proving you wrong.”

He walked to the door and disappeared.

“Why are you so fucking stubborn?” I yelled after him, and all I heard was his amused snort halfway down the hall. “And—if you recall—I gave you head in the shower this morning so technically you already had sex today!”

He’s coming back, I thought. Totally one hundred percent coming back. I can wait it out.

I lay back, stared at the ceiling. My skin was flushed, and between my legs I felt heavy and fevered. My body hadn’t caught up with my brain yet, and still wanted to chase after him, beg him to take me for real this time: man parts in woman parts, moving a lot and very fast.

The sound of the fridge opening cut through the silence in the bedroom, and I bolted upright. Was he getting a fucking snack?

Before I could think better of it, I was racing down the hall, completely naked. My feet slipped on the hardwood floors and I wheeled around the corner just as he closed the fridge with an armful of food.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I asked, stopping short only inches from where he appeared to be making himself a sandwich. “You’re going to have a fucking turkey wrap?”

He turned to look at me, letting his eyes move from my face and down over every one of my naked curves—the bastard couldn’t even hide how much he wanted to fuck right now—before returning his attention to my face. “I suppose until my fiancée stops being a teasing bitch or my dick learns to suck itself, I may as well have a bite to eat.”

“But . . .” I started lamely, searching for the best way to suggest he eat me again without incurring his sexually frustrated wrath. I scowled at his amused half grin. “Rude.”

“You want sex, you do it on my terms. Tonight’s the night, Mills. Actually,” he said, giving me a self-satisfied smile, “tonight is the last night I fuck you while you still have that name.”

Now this I couldn’t let slide. “We haven’t exactly agreed on anything in the name department, Ryan. I’m still gunning for Chloe Myan and Bennett Rills.”

“Tell me when you’re ready to get it, Chlo.” He held my gaze for several silent beats and then leaned down close enough that all I had to do was lean forward an inch to kiss him. I started to, but he pulled just out of reach. “When you say ‘please, Bennett, I need it’ I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for days without remembering it.”

My mouth opened and closed a couple of times without any words escaping. With a knowing smirk, Bennett turned back to his sandwich preparation.