Irresistibly Dangerous : A Marriage of Convenience Romance (Irresistibly Yours Book 5), page 11
“Sexy fucking armor.”
I fight my smile because I forgot this about him. I forgot he likes to talk and sort of narrate, and I remember realizing he only speaks when he’s worked up about something, but since he rarely allows himself the emotional merit, he rarely talks. On nights he’d show up particularly out of sorts or broken, those were the nights he’d talk to me the most. He’d tell me things, things that floated in and out of his brain, and I took them in like a sponge, like a needy cat desperate for more of him in the form of his words.
This isn’t emotional for him, but the endorphin rush is similar enough.
“And this?” He reaches down and snaps the garter on my thigh, making me jolt up and whimper at the zap of the elastic on my overheated skin.
“They talked me into it.”
He makes a sarcastic noise, but I can tell he likes it. “Unhook this for me.” He gives my bra strap a tug.
Without hesitation, I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, allowing it to slip from my chest and arms and setting it down on the bench seat beside him. For a long moment, he’s silent, staring at my chest.
“God, you’re so beautiful you make it impossible to breathe.” An incredulous head shake, and then his hands slide down my back and around my backside until they’re almost cupping my pussy from behind. Without warning, he stands, taking me with him and forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, though I know he won’t drop me.
He walks us into the bedroom and sets me down on the bed, pressing his hand into my shoulder and forcing me down onto my back. He’s standing in the valley of my thighs, still with his eyes roving every inch of me. In my next breath, he’s back on me, eating at my mouth and sucking on my chin and throat. His body presses me down into the mattress, heavy and warm and so fucking good a wave of satisfaction rolls through me.
His hands are all over me, playing with my breasts, lifting them, touching them, toying with them, pinching my nipples. All the while, he devours my mouth like an animal. Lips and teeth and tongue. Like a man no longer in control when I doubt that’s the case.
I reach for his shirt, starting at the top button and trying to work the rest, anxious to get to his skin, to be able to touch him the way he’s touching me. I shudder out a pleased breath when I manage the last button and shuck it from his shoulders, dragging it down only to whimper in frustration. Biting my lip, he growls in protest as I force him back to free his stuck wrists caught on the cufflinks. He pries himself away, unhooking the cufflinks as he goes, dropping each heavy piece of metal on the nightstand with a thud before he slips off his shirt and tosses it on the floor.
His knee hits the mattress, one and then the other, his eyes locked on my lips—his wet and puffy from his kisses—and my breasts—swollen and heavy with hard pink peaks.
He positions himself at the head of the bed, sitting up against the headboard, his tattoos and nipple piercings a buffet for my eyes.
He runs a lazy finger along his bottom lip and says, “Roll over and crawl to me. Show me what a good, obedient girl my wife can be.”
My panties flood so fast that not even Noah’s Ark can save them.
I roll over onto my stomach, but when he motions toward my thong, I rise onto my knees and slide it down and off. I start on the garter next when he shakes his head.
I arch a brow. “Oh really? My husband wants me in nothing but a lacy garter?”
“It’s your wedding night, Georgie. My bride deserves to feel like one.”
I flip him off for, well, for all of that, and he grins, crooking his finger at me.
I lower my hands to the bed and start to crawl to him. More like prowl. An alley cat all attitude and tenacity until I get within striking distance, and he grabs my hips faster than I can anticipate and rolls us until I somehow end up straddling his face. My chin drops, and my eyes meet his, such a deep blue, they’re nearly black.
He can’t keep the smile from curling up his lips.
With his eyes still on mine, his tongue comes out and circles my clit before it slips lower and plunges straight up into me as deep as he can go.
“Ah!” I cry out, my head flying back, my back arching, and my eyes closing. My ass gets a solid smack, and then he’s taking my hips and dragging me down onto his face. He buries his nose in me, inhaling deeply and making a noise that I don’t think can be called human. His fingers dig brusingly into my hips as his tongue and lips make out with my clit. Deep kisses and hard licks that have me breathless in seconds.
He slides me back and forth, grinding me against his rough chin, feasting on me like a man possessed, and growling like an animal as he does. Swirls and deep fucks and noises that make my clit vibrate and my pussy leak.
Holy Christmas in Toledo, his mouth. His wicked, diabolical, sinful mouth. I can’t remember the last time someone went down on—
Oh shit.
“Lenox,” I moan, even as I try to regain control because he’s sucking my clit into his mouth and using his tongue like a delicious weapon. “Do you think Ezra can hear us?”
In a flash, Lenox flips me over and gets right up in my face with a look that robs me of my breath. One hand meets my neck in a possessive clasp, and his other plunges two fingers straight inside me, all the way to his knuckles, until I’m moaning and whimpering at how deep his long, thick fingers can take me.
“You are not to have another man’s name on your lips while I am inside of you.” He starts pumping fast, furious, and without mercy. “Whether that’s my tongue, my fingers, or my cock.”
I can’t even respond because I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my life, and I don’t trust my words or my voice. They’ll betray the maelstrom of all that just did to me, and I can’t have that. Not when we’re this and not anything else.
“Then fuck me so hard, yours is the only name I know,” I challenge instead, quirking an eyebrow even as he rails me so hard and so good with his fingers that I’m a beat away from coming all over them. It’s noisy and mind-twisting and I’m so wet, and then he’s gone, sliding down my body and flicking the tip of his tongue all over my center. “Fuck!” I yell, grabbing his hair and ripping at it.
He blows cool air on my throbbing clit and uses his other hand to smack it, once, twice, three times, all the while he continues to thrust and thrust his fingers in and out of me, curling them, quirking them, blowing my absolute mind.
My back arches and my grip on his hair tightens as spasms start to build from within my core, intensifying until I’m a shaking, quivering mess of a woman. Until I’m screaming and ripping more of his hair and holding his mouth on my clit, pleading with him to never ever stop. My climax crawls up my spine and splinters me from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair.
I don’t know how loud or quiet I am. I might in fact be singing, but I’m also moaning, and words spill from my lips. Needy words. Begging words. Words along the lines of fuck me and give it to me now and I need you inside me and I want, I want, I want.
His tongue swirls one last lingering lick, making me whimper at how sensitive I am, only to whimper again when his fingers slide out of me. I manage to quirk open my eyes even as I lie here boneless in the center of the king-sized bed. He licks his fingers clean and then crawls up my body and kisses me again, holding the sides of my head. He kisses me for a few minutes as if he can’t make himself stop while I catch my ragged breath.
“Don’t move,” he quips with an amused twist of his lips.
“Ha. Funny.”
His body slips from mine, and he takes off his pants and boxer briefs—thank God.
“You’re a midwife.”
I choke on a deranged laugh. “Um. You don’t have the right anatomy for that question.”
He climbs back over me and bites my shoulder. “You were on the pill. Are you still?”
Oh. Right. That stuff. “No,” I tell him. “But I do have an IUD, and yes, obviously I’ve been tested since I last had sex.”
“Me too.” He smacks my breast, watching it jiggle like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “I need to show you something though.”
Um. “Please tell me it’s not medical.”
He bites down hard on my nipple, making me yelp, and sits me up, giving me a firm tug and another smack to my other tit. Immediately when I sit up, I see what he’s talking about. My jaw drops, and my mouth goes dry.
I count… one, two, three, four. Fuck. He has three barbells going through the underside of his cock and a ring through his tip. Four piercings. In his dick. In his large, thick, veiny, angry-looking dick. He definitely did not have those the last time he was inside me.
I blink and look up into his hooded eyes. “I’m assuming they feel better than they don’t. For me, I mean, as I don’t really care about your pleasure.” I reach out and touch them, dragging my finger up through the thin skin covering the metal and even pushing on the side of a barbell to slide it.
His lips part, and he leans in to kiss me deep and ravenous as I continue to touch him. To play with his piercings because fuck, I don’t want to stop. I drag my thumb up over the barbells and pull gently on the hoop, and a groan rips past his lungs and into my mouth. Suddenly, he’s everywhere, pushing me down, flipping me over until I’m on my stomach, and then hoisting me up, forcing me on all fours.
His chest covers my back and his mouth hovers by my ear as he growls, “You tell me.”
And then he plunges straight into me, all the way to the hilt. I cry out, because, yes, he is thick and long, but I can feel the metal. I can feel the barbells roll along my G-spot since he’s taking me from behind, and I know that’s no accident. The walls of my pussy contract and somehow manage to grow more sensitive than ever before, clenching and unclenching as they grip him.
“Fuck,” he curses, his forehead falling between my shoulder blades. “Fuck, baby. How could I have forgotten how goddamn good your cunt feels?” He sighs a shaky breath. “Or maybe this is why I forced myself to forget.”
His whole weight is on me as he slides almost all the way out and then thrusts all the way back in. My breath scrambles from my lungs as he starts to piston into me over and over, creating a grueling, punishing, almost cruel rhythm. With his body over mine like this, he controls my movements, how I take him, how deep he goes.
The friction is like nothing else, rooted deep from within me, awakening every nerve ending I’m comprised of both inside and out. I grind against him, my hands clawing at the bed linens, and all I can do is gasp and moan. I quake with how good this feels, my head bowing and my eyes closed as I absorb him pounding into me.
Rough teeth scrape along my spine, the flash of pain quickly followed by his soothing tongue as he licks up my back. His hand wraps around my neck, not cutting off my air but holding me, using it as leverage, as his possessive way to control how this goes. His other hand is on my hip, gripping the hell out of me.
My pussy feels swollen and tight around his thick, hard cock, but it’s his piercings—the way they edge and simultaneously play with pain and pleasure—that are twisting up my mind, splintering my thoughts, and yet have me seeking more. Craving it so bad I can hardly stand it. I want him to fuck me until he’s torn me apart. Until I experience a new kind of pleasure I never knew existed.
I arch against him and drop to my elbows, reaching back to rub my clit, needing the extra friction when he reaches down and snags my wrist, bending it behind me and stopping me. On my next breath, he’s jerking me upright, grabbing my other hand, and pinning both of my wrists behind my back, trapping them between us in the manacle of his large hand.
“Mine,” he grunts, tugging me back until I’m leaning against his chest and he can lock my arms between us. He releases me, and the hand that was on my hip slithers up to my breast, holding it firmly while his other hand goes to my clit.
He hasn’t stopped fucking me. He hasn’t even slowed to take a breath or change up the pace. But now the angle is different, less direct, and he’s forced to pump up into me.
And hell… the way he does that rubs my front wall while his fingers work furiously on my clit.
“My kryptonite. You’re so fucking sexy, Georgia.” He licks a trail up my neck, but if I thought I was at his mercy before, that has nothing on me now. I’m his plaything. His toy. All I can do is shift my knees a little wider to give him better access to my clit, to let him slide into me a little deeper, go a little harder.
It’s everything, and in a matter of seconds, I’m coming so hard my orgasm splinters through me, shredding me completely. I grind down on him, against his fingers, as my head falls back against his chest. A feral groan, low and rough tears from his lips as he slams into me, fucking me to the very brink of what I can take, and then he’s coming too, his release filling me up and already leaking down onto my upper thighs.
His arms wrap around me, and we tumble down onto the bed, both of us panting for our lives as he holds me and tucks me against him, my back to his chest. “Don’t move,” he commands after a quiet moment and then he’s up, going to the bathroom only to return with a cloth to clean me up. And when that’s done, he pulls back the blankets and drags me under the covers, holding me in a way that naturally makes my traitorous heart thump in my chest.
His fingers glide along the curve of my hip, lulling me into an exhausted stupor. One where I don’t allow any thoughts about what we just did to linger.
That is until I feel him stir behind me, his cock getting hard once more, and he whispers in my ear, “This time I’ll make you feel like a bride.”
And I wonder if once again, I’ll live to regret him.
Chapter Eleven
Dawn comes long before I’m ready for it. Lenox and I had sex again in the bed and then moved to the shower for a third round before I passed out. I have no idea what he did after that. I didn’t allow myself to do much more than climb into bed after brushing my teeth and fall asleep—something I know he doesn’t do much of.
But when I wake up, I discover he’s fast asleep beside me. On his side, with his eyelashes fluttering as if he’s dreaming, his full, soft lips parted ever so slightly, he breathes in and out so quietly, you’d never know he was breathing if you didn’t see the rise and fall of his chest.
I can’t stay in this bed. I can’t wait for him to wake up and still be here. We didn’t talk about where he’d sleep, but I can’t have him in the bed beside me for the rest of the trip.
Distance is paramount—especially after how epic last night was—so I slip out of bed, climb into gym clothes, and then sneak out of our suite, heading to the gym to take an early morning yoga class. The room is packed, and I take a spot in the corner, keeping my head down and my face averted.
No one gives a shit in LA. Everyone there is a celebrity, but here it’s different, and the covert looks and hushed whispers I’m getting only add to my agitation. I only wish they had a punching bag or something I could take it out on. Despite the rough start, an hour later, I’m starting to feel like myself again. Like Georgia of old. Like I can manage all the things being thrown at me, and with that, I can turn a new page and start a new chapter of my life.
After the class, I head into the lobby, covered in sweat, and get in line at Starbucks so I can order myself a Venti Americano and Lenox… fuck. I have no clue what Lenox drinks because we so rarely did the morning-after thing. I order him the same thing as me, along with a double shot of espresso, thinking that must be the drink of hackers everywhere.
While I wait, I stand off to the side, aimlessly scrolling through my Instagram, only to groan when I come across a video of Lenox winning the ten million dollars. Thankfully there is a comment about how we donated the money to charity, but it’s definitely showing me, and it’s definitely showing Lenox. By some mercy, it doesn’t mention anything about a wedding or us being together as a couple.
I want to put that off as long as possible.
I’m just about to like the video when a shadowy figure looms tall over me. Turning, I find Alfie wearing his standard power suit—dark pinstripe, white shirt, navy tie—and an impatient expression. Alfie is giving the welcome speech this morning before the departmental heads take their turns. Spouses aren’t supposed to attend the all-hands meetings today, but since I owe Lenox, if he wants, I’m going to let him listen in.
“This is not where we agreed to meet. I’ve been waiting for you for over half an hour.”
Oh. I completely forgot about his texts after Lenox sent him that link, and well, all the sex after.
“I’m sorry. It slipped my mind, and yoga ran longer than I thought. Do you want a coffee?”
“Georgia!” the guy behind the counter shouts, and I go over and grab the cardboard tray, lifting mine out and taking a sip. I’m going to need this more than I thought.
“I’ve already had mine,” he hisses in displeasure. “Can we go somewhere and talk privately?”
“Of course.”
He starts walking along the corridor, glancing around, and then heads over to the high-stakes slot room that is empty at this early hour.
“Georgia, what on earth is going on?” he starts without any preamble. “Please tell me you didn’t actually marry the Neanderthal, and if you did, tell me you have a prenup bigger than Texas.”
I set the tray of coffee down on the floor beside my feet, still holding mine in my hands. “Yes, I actually married Lenox. He’s not a Neanderthal. He’s someone I’ve loved for a very long time.” Not a total lie per se, just a bit of a stretch of the truth. “And yes, we have a prenup. He signed it without hesitation and made no amendments. He gets nothing out of this other than me.”
Alfie sighs, his rigid posture slacking. “I don’t like it, Georgia. Your father would like it even less.”
I stare down at the plastic lid of my coffee. “I couldn’t marry Ezra. I told you this. I told him this. But none of you would listen.”
“Marrying Ezra is how this company stays together. It’s how it grows. It’s how we ensure it’s a family company without any outside interference because your children would one day be the largest owners with my ten percent and your fifty-four. Don’t you see that? Don’t you see the power of that? The necessity for Monroe?”
I fight my smile because I forgot this about him. I forgot he likes to talk and sort of narrate, and I remember realizing he only speaks when he’s worked up about something, but since he rarely allows himself the emotional merit, he rarely talks. On nights he’d show up particularly out of sorts or broken, those were the nights he’d talk to me the most. He’d tell me things, things that floated in and out of his brain, and I took them in like a sponge, like a needy cat desperate for more of him in the form of his words.
This isn’t emotional for him, but the endorphin rush is similar enough.
“And this?” He reaches down and snaps the garter on my thigh, making me jolt up and whimper at the zap of the elastic on my overheated skin.
“They talked me into it.”
He makes a sarcastic noise, but I can tell he likes it. “Unhook this for me.” He gives my bra strap a tug.
Without hesitation, I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, allowing it to slip from my chest and arms and setting it down on the bench seat beside him. For a long moment, he’s silent, staring at my chest.
“God, you’re so beautiful you make it impossible to breathe.” An incredulous head shake, and then his hands slide down my back and around my backside until they’re almost cupping my pussy from behind. Without warning, he stands, taking me with him and forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, though I know he won’t drop me.
He walks us into the bedroom and sets me down on the bed, pressing his hand into my shoulder and forcing me down onto my back. He’s standing in the valley of my thighs, still with his eyes roving every inch of me. In my next breath, he’s back on me, eating at my mouth and sucking on my chin and throat. His body presses me down into the mattress, heavy and warm and so fucking good a wave of satisfaction rolls through me.
His hands are all over me, playing with my breasts, lifting them, touching them, toying with them, pinching my nipples. All the while, he devours my mouth like an animal. Lips and teeth and tongue. Like a man no longer in control when I doubt that’s the case.
I reach for his shirt, starting at the top button and trying to work the rest, anxious to get to his skin, to be able to touch him the way he’s touching me. I shudder out a pleased breath when I manage the last button and shuck it from his shoulders, dragging it down only to whimper in frustration. Biting my lip, he growls in protest as I force him back to free his stuck wrists caught on the cufflinks. He pries himself away, unhooking the cufflinks as he goes, dropping each heavy piece of metal on the nightstand with a thud before he slips off his shirt and tosses it on the floor.
His knee hits the mattress, one and then the other, his eyes locked on my lips—his wet and puffy from his kisses—and my breasts—swollen and heavy with hard pink peaks.
He positions himself at the head of the bed, sitting up against the headboard, his tattoos and nipple piercings a buffet for my eyes.
He runs a lazy finger along his bottom lip and says, “Roll over and crawl to me. Show me what a good, obedient girl my wife can be.”
My panties flood so fast that not even Noah’s Ark can save them.
I roll over onto my stomach, but when he motions toward my thong, I rise onto my knees and slide it down and off. I start on the garter next when he shakes his head.
I arch a brow. “Oh really? My husband wants me in nothing but a lacy garter?”
“It’s your wedding night, Georgie. My bride deserves to feel like one.”
I flip him off for, well, for all of that, and he grins, crooking his finger at me.
I lower my hands to the bed and start to crawl to him. More like prowl. An alley cat all attitude and tenacity until I get within striking distance, and he grabs my hips faster than I can anticipate and rolls us until I somehow end up straddling his face. My chin drops, and my eyes meet his, such a deep blue, they’re nearly black.
He can’t keep the smile from curling up his lips.
With his eyes still on mine, his tongue comes out and circles my clit before it slips lower and plunges straight up into me as deep as he can go.
“Ah!” I cry out, my head flying back, my back arching, and my eyes closing. My ass gets a solid smack, and then he’s taking my hips and dragging me down onto his face. He buries his nose in me, inhaling deeply and making a noise that I don’t think can be called human. His fingers dig brusingly into my hips as his tongue and lips make out with my clit. Deep kisses and hard licks that have me breathless in seconds.
He slides me back and forth, grinding me against his rough chin, feasting on me like a man possessed, and growling like an animal as he does. Swirls and deep fucks and noises that make my clit vibrate and my pussy leak.
Holy Christmas in Toledo, his mouth. His wicked, diabolical, sinful mouth. I can’t remember the last time someone went down on—
Oh shit.
“Lenox,” I moan, even as I try to regain control because he’s sucking my clit into his mouth and using his tongue like a delicious weapon. “Do you think Ezra can hear us?”
In a flash, Lenox flips me over and gets right up in my face with a look that robs me of my breath. One hand meets my neck in a possessive clasp, and his other plunges two fingers straight inside me, all the way to his knuckles, until I’m moaning and whimpering at how deep his long, thick fingers can take me.
“You are not to have another man’s name on your lips while I am inside of you.” He starts pumping fast, furious, and without mercy. “Whether that’s my tongue, my fingers, or my cock.”
I can’t even respond because I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my life, and I don’t trust my words or my voice. They’ll betray the maelstrom of all that just did to me, and I can’t have that. Not when we’re this and not anything else.
“Then fuck me so hard, yours is the only name I know,” I challenge instead, quirking an eyebrow even as he rails me so hard and so good with his fingers that I’m a beat away from coming all over them. It’s noisy and mind-twisting and I’m so wet, and then he’s gone, sliding down my body and flicking the tip of his tongue all over my center. “Fuck!” I yell, grabbing his hair and ripping at it.
He blows cool air on my throbbing clit and uses his other hand to smack it, once, twice, three times, all the while he continues to thrust and thrust his fingers in and out of me, curling them, quirking them, blowing my absolute mind.
My back arches and my grip on his hair tightens as spasms start to build from within my core, intensifying until I’m a shaking, quivering mess of a woman. Until I’m screaming and ripping more of his hair and holding his mouth on my clit, pleading with him to never ever stop. My climax crawls up my spine and splinters me from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair.
I don’t know how loud or quiet I am. I might in fact be singing, but I’m also moaning, and words spill from my lips. Needy words. Begging words. Words along the lines of fuck me and give it to me now and I need you inside me and I want, I want, I want.
His tongue swirls one last lingering lick, making me whimper at how sensitive I am, only to whimper again when his fingers slide out of me. I manage to quirk open my eyes even as I lie here boneless in the center of the king-sized bed. He licks his fingers clean and then crawls up my body and kisses me again, holding the sides of my head. He kisses me for a few minutes as if he can’t make himself stop while I catch my ragged breath.
“Don’t move,” he quips with an amused twist of his lips.
“Ha. Funny.”
His body slips from mine, and he takes off his pants and boxer briefs—thank God.
“You’re a midwife.”
I choke on a deranged laugh. “Um. You don’t have the right anatomy for that question.”
He climbs back over me and bites my shoulder. “You were on the pill. Are you still?”
Oh. Right. That stuff. “No,” I tell him. “But I do have an IUD, and yes, obviously I’ve been tested since I last had sex.”
“Me too.” He smacks my breast, watching it jiggle like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “I need to show you something though.”
Um. “Please tell me it’s not medical.”
He bites down hard on my nipple, making me yelp, and sits me up, giving me a firm tug and another smack to my other tit. Immediately when I sit up, I see what he’s talking about. My jaw drops, and my mouth goes dry.
I count… one, two, three, four. Fuck. He has three barbells going through the underside of his cock and a ring through his tip. Four piercings. In his dick. In his large, thick, veiny, angry-looking dick. He definitely did not have those the last time he was inside me.
I blink and look up into his hooded eyes. “I’m assuming they feel better than they don’t. For me, I mean, as I don’t really care about your pleasure.” I reach out and touch them, dragging my finger up through the thin skin covering the metal and even pushing on the side of a barbell to slide it.
His lips part, and he leans in to kiss me deep and ravenous as I continue to touch him. To play with his piercings because fuck, I don’t want to stop. I drag my thumb up over the barbells and pull gently on the hoop, and a groan rips past his lungs and into my mouth. Suddenly, he’s everywhere, pushing me down, flipping me over until I’m on my stomach, and then hoisting me up, forcing me on all fours.
His chest covers my back and his mouth hovers by my ear as he growls, “You tell me.”
And then he plunges straight into me, all the way to the hilt. I cry out, because, yes, he is thick and long, but I can feel the metal. I can feel the barbells roll along my G-spot since he’s taking me from behind, and I know that’s no accident. The walls of my pussy contract and somehow manage to grow more sensitive than ever before, clenching and unclenching as they grip him.
“Fuck,” he curses, his forehead falling between my shoulder blades. “Fuck, baby. How could I have forgotten how goddamn good your cunt feels?” He sighs a shaky breath. “Or maybe this is why I forced myself to forget.”
His whole weight is on me as he slides almost all the way out and then thrusts all the way back in. My breath scrambles from my lungs as he starts to piston into me over and over, creating a grueling, punishing, almost cruel rhythm. With his body over mine like this, he controls my movements, how I take him, how deep he goes.
The friction is like nothing else, rooted deep from within me, awakening every nerve ending I’m comprised of both inside and out. I grind against him, my hands clawing at the bed linens, and all I can do is gasp and moan. I quake with how good this feels, my head bowing and my eyes closed as I absorb him pounding into me.
Rough teeth scrape along my spine, the flash of pain quickly followed by his soothing tongue as he licks up my back. His hand wraps around my neck, not cutting off my air but holding me, using it as leverage, as his possessive way to control how this goes. His other hand is on my hip, gripping the hell out of me.
My pussy feels swollen and tight around his thick, hard cock, but it’s his piercings—the way they edge and simultaneously play with pain and pleasure—that are twisting up my mind, splintering my thoughts, and yet have me seeking more. Craving it so bad I can hardly stand it. I want him to fuck me until he’s torn me apart. Until I experience a new kind of pleasure I never knew existed.
I arch against him and drop to my elbows, reaching back to rub my clit, needing the extra friction when he reaches down and snags my wrist, bending it behind me and stopping me. On my next breath, he’s jerking me upright, grabbing my other hand, and pinning both of my wrists behind my back, trapping them between us in the manacle of his large hand.
“Mine,” he grunts, tugging me back until I’m leaning against his chest and he can lock my arms between us. He releases me, and the hand that was on my hip slithers up to my breast, holding it firmly while his other hand goes to my clit.
He hasn’t stopped fucking me. He hasn’t even slowed to take a breath or change up the pace. But now the angle is different, less direct, and he’s forced to pump up into me.
And hell… the way he does that rubs my front wall while his fingers work furiously on my clit.
“My kryptonite. You’re so fucking sexy, Georgia.” He licks a trail up my neck, but if I thought I was at his mercy before, that has nothing on me now. I’m his plaything. His toy. All I can do is shift my knees a little wider to give him better access to my clit, to let him slide into me a little deeper, go a little harder.
It’s everything, and in a matter of seconds, I’m coming so hard my orgasm splinters through me, shredding me completely. I grind down on him, against his fingers, as my head falls back against his chest. A feral groan, low and rough tears from his lips as he slams into me, fucking me to the very brink of what I can take, and then he’s coming too, his release filling me up and already leaking down onto my upper thighs.
His arms wrap around me, and we tumble down onto the bed, both of us panting for our lives as he holds me and tucks me against him, my back to his chest. “Don’t move,” he commands after a quiet moment and then he’s up, going to the bathroom only to return with a cloth to clean me up. And when that’s done, he pulls back the blankets and drags me under the covers, holding me in a way that naturally makes my traitorous heart thump in my chest.
His fingers glide along the curve of my hip, lulling me into an exhausted stupor. One where I don’t allow any thoughts about what we just did to linger.
That is until I feel him stir behind me, his cock getting hard once more, and he whispers in my ear, “This time I’ll make you feel like a bride.”
And I wonder if once again, I’ll live to regret him.
Chapter Eleven
Dawn comes long before I’m ready for it. Lenox and I had sex again in the bed and then moved to the shower for a third round before I passed out. I have no idea what he did after that. I didn’t allow myself to do much more than climb into bed after brushing my teeth and fall asleep—something I know he doesn’t do much of.
But when I wake up, I discover he’s fast asleep beside me. On his side, with his eyelashes fluttering as if he’s dreaming, his full, soft lips parted ever so slightly, he breathes in and out so quietly, you’d never know he was breathing if you didn’t see the rise and fall of his chest.
I can’t stay in this bed. I can’t wait for him to wake up and still be here. We didn’t talk about where he’d sleep, but I can’t have him in the bed beside me for the rest of the trip.
Distance is paramount—especially after how epic last night was—so I slip out of bed, climb into gym clothes, and then sneak out of our suite, heading to the gym to take an early morning yoga class. The room is packed, and I take a spot in the corner, keeping my head down and my face averted.
No one gives a shit in LA. Everyone there is a celebrity, but here it’s different, and the covert looks and hushed whispers I’m getting only add to my agitation. I only wish they had a punching bag or something I could take it out on. Despite the rough start, an hour later, I’m starting to feel like myself again. Like Georgia of old. Like I can manage all the things being thrown at me, and with that, I can turn a new page and start a new chapter of my life.
After the class, I head into the lobby, covered in sweat, and get in line at Starbucks so I can order myself a Venti Americano and Lenox… fuck. I have no clue what Lenox drinks because we so rarely did the morning-after thing. I order him the same thing as me, along with a double shot of espresso, thinking that must be the drink of hackers everywhere.
While I wait, I stand off to the side, aimlessly scrolling through my Instagram, only to groan when I come across a video of Lenox winning the ten million dollars. Thankfully there is a comment about how we donated the money to charity, but it’s definitely showing me, and it’s definitely showing Lenox. By some mercy, it doesn’t mention anything about a wedding or us being together as a couple.
I want to put that off as long as possible.
I’m just about to like the video when a shadowy figure looms tall over me. Turning, I find Alfie wearing his standard power suit—dark pinstripe, white shirt, navy tie—and an impatient expression. Alfie is giving the welcome speech this morning before the departmental heads take their turns. Spouses aren’t supposed to attend the all-hands meetings today, but since I owe Lenox, if he wants, I’m going to let him listen in.
“This is not where we agreed to meet. I’ve been waiting for you for over half an hour.”
Oh. I completely forgot about his texts after Lenox sent him that link, and well, all the sex after.
“I’m sorry. It slipped my mind, and yoga ran longer than I thought. Do you want a coffee?”
“Georgia!” the guy behind the counter shouts, and I go over and grab the cardboard tray, lifting mine out and taking a sip. I’m going to need this more than I thought.
“I’ve already had mine,” he hisses in displeasure. “Can we go somewhere and talk privately?”
“Of course.”
He starts walking along the corridor, glancing around, and then heads over to the high-stakes slot room that is empty at this early hour.
“Georgia, what on earth is going on?” he starts without any preamble. “Please tell me you didn’t actually marry the Neanderthal, and if you did, tell me you have a prenup bigger than Texas.”
I set the tray of coffee down on the floor beside my feet, still holding mine in my hands. “Yes, I actually married Lenox. He’s not a Neanderthal. He’s someone I’ve loved for a very long time.” Not a total lie per se, just a bit of a stretch of the truth. “And yes, we have a prenup. He signed it without hesitation and made no amendments. He gets nothing out of this other than me.”
Alfie sighs, his rigid posture slacking. “I don’t like it, Georgia. Your father would like it even less.”
I stare down at the plastic lid of my coffee. “I couldn’t marry Ezra. I told you this. I told him this. But none of you would listen.”
“Marrying Ezra is how this company stays together. It’s how it grows. It’s how we ensure it’s a family company without any outside interference because your children would one day be the largest owners with my ten percent and your fifty-four. Don’t you see that? Don’t you see the power of that? The necessity for Monroe?”
