“Oh,” he said nonchalantly. “Just a private balcony where I’m going to ravish you.”
“Seriously,” I said, watching as the lit-up numbers flickered past.
“Seriously,” he said.
The elevator doors opened and I saw that ‘seriously’ definitely didn’t cover it.
No with how the balcony’s floor was thick with rose petals and a quick look around found that it was high up with no nearby windows in sight – as private as could be.
“And now, I’m going to fuck you,” Xander hissed in my ear, his arm hooked around my waist.
Next second, his tongue was parting my lips. His hands worked over my dress, as though his touch was creating it. Each curve he squeezed all the way down until his lips were massaging mine, his hands my ass.
“Xander,” I murmured, enjoying the taste of his name on my lips.
“What is it, girlfriend?” he asked, pulling back and taking my lip partway with him.
“So now I’ve been demoted?” I joked.
The way Xander was looking at me was as good as a stroke. His pressed a couple fingers to my lips. “Stop.”
They pressed into my lips. “You know how crazy I am about you.”
And then he took my face and brought it to his. Now, there was nothing savoring about the way his hands were gliding over me – this was pure want, speed. His caressing of my thighs had me buckling into him.
Xander steadied me with just a hand. Then, a devilish smile. “Here, let me help you with that.”
He laid me on the petal-covered ground, the petals themselves a soft smoothness. And then, his fingers twined under my dress, pressing into my pussy.
As I groaned, another smile flickered over his face.
“You are wearing entirely too many clothes,” he growled, pulling off my dress.
I could only blink at him, stunned, as he kneeled beside me, his eyes feasting on my fresh nakedness. Straining up, my lips caught his and that was it. Lip twisted on lip as his body settled on top of me. Together, we unzipped his pants, pulled down his briefs. And then… there he was.
The long hardness that had pleasured me more than anything in this world time and time again.
As he entered me, pleasure sang through all of me.
I moaned, and Xander smiled down at me. “That’s more like it.”
As he repeated the motion, going in deeper, another grateful spasm went through me. This was going to be a fuck to remember, I could tell already.
Xander varied his thrusts, each one aimed to bring maximum pleasure. Slow and savoring, fast and merciless, every time my body grew accustomed to what he was doing, he switched it up, sending me into delicious ecstasy once more. On and on he fucked me. I came once, twice, again.
We kissed and moved from one position to the next, from missionary to doggy to cowgirl back to missionary again.
Until Xander was on top of me, and I could see it in his face, see what he wanted to say, had been wanting to say for some time.
As he stabbed into me the hardest and deepest yet, and our entire bodies clasped onto each other’s desperately, my gaze bore into his, and I said, “Say it.”
A muscle in Xander’s jaw flexed. I clasped at his cock with my pussy. “Say it.”
He tried to twist his giveaway face away, but I wrenched it back, so it was facing me. “Say it.”
And finally, face red, eyes adoring slits, Xander burst out, “I love you.”
We stared at each other then for what felt like an eternity, our bodies still clasping each other.
I broke the silence. “I love you too.”
Like a button had been pressed, Xander jerked to life. His cock was a wonder, slamming into me, sweeping me into pleasured shivers. My legs were out of my control, knocking into each other.
And, finally, as Xander lost control and his cock pulsed in me and he came, he raised his head to the Heavens and yelled, “I love you, Naomi Peterson!”
Epilogue
One Year Later - Naomi
Why wouldn’t he tell me what was up?
Today was our wedding day for God’s sake, and Xander was keeping something from me. I could see it in the way his smile didn’t quite make it to his eyes. But he wouldn’t tell me. Maybe it had something to do with Christmas, which was in a few days.
“Just enjoy our wedding, woman,” he said now, at the door about to leave.
“I’m trying,” I said, getting up and putting on a bath robe. “Maybe if you left and let me get changed so I’m ready on time, then I may actually have a chance of enjoying it.”
“See ya,” Xander leaned in for a kiss and then he was gone.
I’d hardly gotten downstairs and sipped my coffee when Teren, my mom, Melanie, Jessica, and a whole troupe of others were ringing the doorbell.
“Naomi!” Teren scolded as soon as I opened the door. “We only have an hour to get you gorgeous!”
Behind him were a bustling array of hairdressers and makeup artists who he’d taken it upon himself to hire last week.
“You don’t think an hour is enough time?” I said.
Teren patted my cheek sweetly. “Dear sister. Of course it’s not enough time.”
Nevertheless, my brigade of pretty makers still made a go of it of it. All at once, my hair was teased and pulled and snagged, while my face was attacked by an army of brushes. I could barely speak without someone grumbling in disgruntlement.
“Do I want to know what you instructed them to do?” I said to the wall I was facing.
“Oh, you look beautiful honey,” Mom said.
“Thanks,” I said.
Although her words didn’t exactly give me the warm fuzzies. For my prom, I’d been so late that I’d run to it without looking at what Teren had unleashed on my face. He’d apparently gone for smoky eyes that looked good on the almond-eyed girl in the YouTube video, but made me look like I was a victim of domestic violence.
“That’s it,” I finally said. “I want to see what I look like. If I’m not done now than I’ll never be.”
A look in the mirror, however, found that my fears were unfounded. I looked amazing.
If only I could stop thinking about that pesky matter Xander was keeping from me. Damn him. Didn’t he know that the wedding day was stressful enough?
In any case, I didn’t have time to dwell on it, thankfully. Not with the way Teren and the others were hustling me up and out the door.
“We have five minutes,” he said as if a bomb would go off then.
Once we got to the church, then came the waiting game. Funny, how five minutes could feel like five hours when you were stressed enough.
Don’t screw up, a tiny voice in my head reminded me. What could Xander be keeping from us?
The other voice wondered.
“It’s time to go,” Teren finally said..
As stressful as walking down the aisle was going to be, I was grateful to be delivered from my stressed-out thoughts.
The organ hummed out the typical “do-do-do-do”. I took one step into the aisle, and then another. What I’d expected to be thinking of, was how everyone was staring, how many people Xander had in his family, how itchy the back of my gown was. But what I was actually thinking of was right now. How unreal this all was. Being married to a man I was genuinely crazy about.
When I reached Xander at the front of the church, one look at him, and all tension in me rested. Whatever happened, it was going to be ok. As long as I had Xander by my side, I could face anything.
The rest of the ceremony was as enjoyable as a stressful event like it could be. Family members made speeches, people chuckled, the priest did his thing. And everything went along on an easy autopilot, until it was the time to say our vows. When Xander got out a little card, despite what we’d specifically promised each other, I knew I was in for it.
“I know we said we weren’t going to write our vows,” Xander said. “So, after this you can smack me.”
The crowd whooped and applaud
ed good-naturedly.
“To say that our how-we-meet was no fairytale is putting it lightly,” he said, as my stomach rolled. “I think that makes it even better.” Xander was smiling to himself, not able to look at me, not yet. His voice lowered, so that only I could hear. “And I didn’t really know what to say to this, still don’t. I don’t know how to tell you that I didn’t know there were women like you, women who brought out the best in me, challenge me. Women who are nothing short of spectacular.” Now his eyes finally met me mine. “I love you Naomi. And I’m so damn proud to be your husband.”
The vaulted ceiling of the church rang with the applause of the crowd, as if it was some kind of bell.
Now it was my turn to read the vows that were the standard ones. Unless….
I opened my mouth. Was I doing this? Yes, I was going off script.
“Not sure I’ll be able to follow that act, but I want to try.” I was talking quietly too. I could hear everyone shifting in their seats, trying to hear, but I didn’t care. This wasn’t for them. This was for my husband. “To make you get just how much you mean to me. How much this does. Even if you challenge me as much as you support me. But here’s the thing: I like that. Because it’s real. Because we earned this partnership. And that’s what it is.” I smiled at him, using all my self-control not to kiss him, not yet. “And for that, I can’t just say thank you. I don’t know what I can say except that I love you. I love you more than I ever thought possible and I promise you that I always will.”
And at some point, the priest must’ve said “you may now kiss the bride”, because Xander’s lips were touching mine, and the crowd was erupting, and it was official. Even though it had been before, now it was official to me - we were married.
The ceremony unrolled one joy after the next. The gifts ranged from the considerate – matching couples’ bathrobes from the Things Remembered , to the hilarious – Reginald (my fair parents had made me invite him) gave us both matching fanny packs. But we all dance, we all laughed, and ate until we were stuffed.
And, before the night was through, Xander was pulling me aside once more, to the back.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “Everyone is fine with it.”
“With what?”
“Me giving you my gift now.”
“Xander,” I said, exasperated. “What happened to our wedding being the gift?”
Clearly, he’d taken to heart all of none of what we’d discussed about taking it easy via vows and gifts.
“There was Christmas to consider too,” he said, handing me a small box.
Inside, there was a pamphlet. I turned it over in my hands, my gaze scanning the beautiful cabin I recognized immediately. “That’s not the one…”
“After our last trip to Germany was such a success, I couldn’t resist,” Xander said. He kissed me on the tip of my nose. “I bought you a German chalet!”
Now I looked at the pamphlet more closely. Xander hadn’t just bought me a German chalet, he’d bought me the German chalet – the one from my dream board.
I could only look at it.
Xander leaned in, his lips grazing my ear, “There’s a helicopter just outside.”
I thought he was kidding me until we rounded the corner and I saw the whirring bird. I stood there, unable to move a step further. This was too much. Xander was too much.
I looked into his eyes.
“What is it?” he said.
“Just, I’ve had my fair share of nice dreams, but this one takes the cake.”
“Speaking of cake, I’ve got some of that chocolate pudding cake waiting on the jet,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
I couldn’t help but laugh and throw my arms around his neck. “I still can’t believe this is my life,” I said, looking into my husband’s eyes.
“Well believe it Mrs. Peterson,” he replied, kissing me softly on the lips.
We stepped into the helicopter and were whisked away to our happily ever after.
The End
Book Two - Let’s Pretend
1
Kandice
Be careful.
I read the text again. The words were burned into my retinas.
That was the last text I'd received from Jin, over a week ago now. But what could it mean? Was it a warning to stop driving in the erratic way I did, always in a rush to get somewhere? Or was he warning me about what I really feared—the article I’d written that got me fired last week.
Who was I kidding? It had to be about the article. From the churning of my gut while I’d been researching and investigating Peter Khan, the famous Chinese Politician, tech-mogul, and businessman, I'd known. Publishing this article was the riskiest thing that I'd ever done in my life. This was the kind of story that got people killed. I knew the risk, but I did it anyways. The world deserved to know the truth.
I thought back to that initial moment when I had decided to pursue a tip from my old colleague Melinda. A tip that immediately piqued my interest. Digging deeper and deeper, I found enough to realize that what she was saying about Peter's nefarious acceptance of bribes and dealings with corrupt parties and government officials was true. This man was dangerous. And I’d do whatever it took to alert the public—whatever the cost.
I hadn't become a journalist just because I kept a diary and read the newspapers voraciously. No, I'd become a journalist because, from a young age, I was obsessed with the truth. With questions and their answers.
One question that had been at the forefront of everyone's mind in Shanghai, mine included, had been: where exactly was Peter getting his money from? And now we knew—well, I knew. But I wasn’t sure everyone did. What was the cost?
Jin had helped me throughout the entire investigation. I'd even named him as a collaborator, and now... He'd just up and disappeared.
I took a sip of my bubble tea, enjoying the sensation of the bubbles sliding through my lips. It smelled and tasted reassuring and yet I felt uneasy. It was impossible to relax with this craziness going on.
I knew there'd be blow-back on the piece, which is why I avoided my boss’s questions when he asked about it. I only said it would be a showstopper. I managed to avoid outlining any specific details about the article itself. I just hadn't thought I'd get fired for it.
When I'd gone to see my boss, Mr. Harry Lin, in person, the same boss who'd told me only weeks before I was his star reporter, going places, talented, who—if I kept up the good work—would make it to editor one day, he had looked at me and told me without a hint of apology, "That's it, Kandice, we can't work with you anymore."
"This is about Peter Khan, isn't it?" I asked.
He looked at me with steady, opaque eyes. "You have until the end of the week to remove your personal effects."
I laughed. It had been a Wednesday night; just like that, five years of faithful work, from the minute I'd graduated from University, fresh-faced at twenty-one, until now.
Down the drain. Gone.
Five years of going into work early, staying late; busy weekends and missing Skype chats with my best-friend Jen. Three years of being apart from my parents since they moved back to Orlando, Florida in the United States.
Then the most unbelievable, incredulous, and now, embarrassing fact of all resurfaced in my mind. Why had I renounced my U.S. citizenship for a Chinese one?
It was now a funny memory, how at fifteen I had stoically declared that "Shanghai will never be my home. I want to go back home, to Florida, as soon as we can." Because that wasn’t how it ended up. I'd managed to make it through high school, get a decent hold on Chinese, and I had loved University.
It seemed all too fast that my parents told me they were moving home, back to the U.S. But I'd just gotten my job at Rayli, the second most popular newspaper in Shanghai. How could I possibly have left it all to go and just start over?
Maybe it had been the way Harry had phrased a question once, asking me why I thought I wasn't getting anywhere with my contacts, or with my job. All casual,
and yet, in it was a blatant hint about why I wasn’t a complete success: "Chinese trust Chinese. You have lived here quite some time, and while you may know our culture..."
I could see the answer in his eyes. I wasn’t one of them, and he made it easy for me to become one.
Obtaining a Chinese citizenship was notoriously difficult—nearly impossible—and yet with Harry's contacts, he got me one in a matter of weeks. Goodbye U.S. citizenship, hello Chinese one.
I swigged some of my tea so hard some of the bubbles shot to the back of my throat causing me to cough. I frowned bitterly. Yup, gave my U.S. citizenship up, all for a job... A job that let me go as soon as I started to actually prove myself as a reporter. Yeah, prove myself—to be more inconveniently concerned with the truth rather than gossip and clickbait.
But why? Lately, Harry had seemed to be opposed to my interest in the truth, despite it having been my biggest appeal when I interviewed. It was as if, no matter how contentious it was, he was dead set on assigning me to fluff pieces: how to make low-fat brownies with low-fat sprinkles, how to avoid fights with your partner, how to do Sudoku.
I was tired of it. I had done the piece as a statement. Not just to Harry or the world, but to myself. I wasn't just in this for the money and the byline, the accolades that came with working for Rayli. I was in this for the truth, plain and simple.
They hadn't even printed my article after all. That was the worst part. It had literally all been for nothing. As a result, I'd handed it off to a friend at the neighboring magazine, Duzhe, the Shanghai equivalent to the New Yorker.
The public had to know...
I tried to rack my brain over where Jin could be, what could have happened to him, other than the worst-case possibility—that whoever had ordered me fired had gone after Jin too. Jin was more of a nobody in society’s eyes than I was. His parents worked in a factory, while mine were notable former diplomats. Was that the only things saving my neck right now?
My hand clenched absently on the newspaper that I had set beside me. Poor Jin.
Playing Pretend Box Set Page 16