His Runaway Bride (Alphalicious Billionaires Book 7)

by Lindsey Hart

  He didn’t mess around with wasted time. His hand went straight to her panties, rubbing her over the lace. She was ridiculously wet, and she felt his fingers glide over the lace easily, coated in her arousal. His tongue battled hers, stroking her in echo with his fingers.

  She’d never done anything like this. Kitchen sex with a stranger. Okay, kitchen sex or sex with a stranger. No one had ever touched her that way, so sensually, like they were in complete command of her body, like they’d known her for years and knew exactly how she wanted to be touched.

  He touched her with an intimate familiarity that he shouldn’t have been able to lay claim to.

  Cason broke the kiss. He withdrew his mouth, but nipped her brutally on the way, dragging his teeth into the pillow softness of her bottom lip. The sting of the bite sent a jolt of pleasure racing straight to all the spots that were already throbbing.

  Was it possible to come from two seconds of touching and a brutal, dirty kiss?

  Noemi inhaled sharply and realized that the scent in the kitchen had changed. It was dark, erotic, sensual. It smelled like sex. She smelled like sex.

  Cason fell to his knees in front of her, his dark tousled head between her parted thighs, spread open so far that her muscles burned. God. It was a rush just seeing him there, bent before her, a huge, powerful man on his knees. He was going to pleasure her. Her. This man who probably made women all over the world weep with his sheer masculine beauty.

  When he leaned forward, the hot puffs of his breath against her overheated skin nearly sent her over the edge. It had been a while. Even with her fingers, it had been a few months. Cason though, he was the kind of man that it didn’t matter if she’d got herself off a hundred times a day for a hundred days in a row. She’d still probably be on the verge just from that heady breath against her thigh.

  At the first pass of his tongue over her lace clad sex, she threw back her head and melted against the countertop. She’d never, ever had anyone do anything like that. How was it so much hotter with her panties on?

  Cason’s sinful tongue flicked over parts of her that felt like he was the first to discover and conquer. He licked her from clit nearly to her ass and back, while all she could do was whimper and moan and spread her legs wider, giving him complete, unfettered access.

  He destroyed her with his tongue. Destroyed her doubts. Destroyed what little reserve she’d come in with. She didn’t need the wine for courage. He was her courage. Because there was no way in hell that she could actually regret something that felt so good.

  He sucked at her clit through the lace, hard and rough. It burned and stung, and pleasure curled all the way down to her toes. He knew what he was doing, because he danced away after, sliding his tongue over her folds and tracing her entrance. He thrust there, trying to spear her with her panties still on and she actually bucked against the counter.

  She imagined she was leaking all over, leaking all over her thighs, the counter, over the cupboards. It shouldn’t be such a hot visual image. She felt like she should be burning up with shame, but nope. Shame wasn’t anywhere near the list of what she was feeling.

  And then…

  And then he brushed her panties aside. He leaned back and her eyes popped open as the much cooler air in the kitchen rushed up to meet her scorching, tingling, overheated sex.

  Cason arched a brow and studied her, and she wondered what the hell he was doing, holding her panties to the side, looking at her like a creeper. Understanding finally cut through the rays of her oversexed, fogged up brain.

  “Nope. Doesn’t resemble roast beef at all.” Cason’s deep voice cut right through her and suddenly she was right back on the precipice. His shocking, electric blue eyes met hers. “And you are far, far more fucking delicious.” He settled back on his heels, and it was still such a trip seeing his massive form kneeling before her. “Now that that’s settled, would you like me to make you come?”

  God, he was so bold. He was probably one of those guys with a filthy mouth. She was probably right too, about him being able to get any woman he wanted. He probably downplayed the amount of female attention he got. In a resort town, there was probably no shortage of tourists looking for a good time.

  Except he wasn’t with a tourist.

  He’d invited her over. He was with her. He was looking at her like he wanted to tear off her clothes, turn her around, and fuck her doggy style up against the cupboards while he spanked her ass until it was bright red and glowing.

  “I’m going to eat you now,” Cason hissed, his tone smoldering, hotter than sin. “I’m going to eat you until you’re screaming and thrashing, and that counter is digging into your butt and your lower back is numb. I’m going to eat you until your toes curl up and your legs are shaking around my shoulders. I’m going to eat you until you fully realize what a beautiful pussy you have and that any man would be fucking lucky to be in my position right now.”

  Well.

  She didn’t exactly have anything to say to that, but it turned out she didn’t need anything, because Cason went at her like a madman. He held her panties to the side so hard that the lace bit into her thigh painfully, but she wasn’t going to complain.

  She wasn’t capable of complaining. All she was capable of doing was spreading her legs so wide they burned and thrashing her hips into Cason’s face. The rasp of his beard all over her swollen sex was delicious. It burned and scratched, the complete opposite of his warm, sensual mouth. He drove his tongue into her like he was possessed, liked her, nipped her, mouth fucked her clit until she thought she was going to die.

  He didn’t stop when she sunk her hands into his hair and used the strands like reins on a horse, driving his face hard into her. She didn’t stop when he tried to pull back and inhale her scent right in front of her. He let out a low moan and that was it. If he wasn’t going to bring his face to her, she was bringing her sex to him.

  He finally let her drag him back, but he breathed her in again, like an animal would do, and the resulting growl torn from his throat made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

  “You have a beautiful pussy,” Cason groaned. “Fucking gorgeous.”

  He went back to attacking her, tonguing her and scraping his teeth over her pulsing clit so that she nearly shattered at the seams, moving away before she could. He speared his tongue and thrust up inside of her, fucking her with it until she didn’t just think she was going to die. She knew it. He kept going, until she could feel her juices leaking all over her thighs, which were practically bouncing off Cason’s shoulders they vibrated so hard. He was going to have to do one hell of a cleanup job of his countertops after she was done and somehow, that thought was really fucking hot for someone who had only done stuff in a bed or at least in the bedroom.

  She thought she was there. So freaking close. Her entire body shut down and lit up like a Christmas tree all at once. She was so almost there, and then Cason, who was obviously some kind of magic sex god sent to her at exactly the right time, thrust his tongue even further inside of her and reached up to press two fingers against her clit. He circled hard, once, before pinching her brutally and she was off.

  The climax hit her so hard that it felt like it was going to split her in half. Her heart pounded wildly, hammering her ribs until they were nearly pulverized. Her pulse jumped at her neck and all over, it felt like veins, bones, and blood were going to tear out of that thin sheeting holding them all in.

  She came until she realized the strange ringing in her ears was actually her voice, moaning and screaming something incoherent, a foreign language that she didn’t know the words to. She came until her blood fizzled, and she was sure that every single muscle was shaking. Certainly, her legs were. Her arms were. Her abs were. Her lung pumped up and down violently, as one breath crashed into another. She came until she literally saw stars, and she thought that was just basically a figure of speech.

  All in all, it was the best orgasm of her life.

  Ever.

>   When Cason leaned back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand while she watched him do it, then slowly traced his tongue over the spot where his hand shone, she just about climaxed all over again. His beard is wet. Oh my god, his beard is freaking glistening.

  She had no idea what she was actually doing there with him. The whole thing was so unlike her, that she almost felt like a different person. She was going to have her first one-night stand in her life, because this was a bad decision and it was far from over.

  At the end of it, whenever she did her walk of shame, would she have regrets? Would they be immediate and instantaneous, or would they take time to build and slowly crash over her like the tide creeps up on the beach, slowly washing it away until it was all under water? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to be sure. She didn’t want to think at all. For the first time ever, she just wanted to feel and be okay with feeling.

  Even if it wrecked her.

  Because Cason was obviously the kind of guy that did that to a woman. Even if he wasn’t her first. Even if he wasn’t her last. She was pretty damn sure that orgasms like that only came around once in a lifetime. Or at least, with one person in a lifetime.

  “Holy shit,” she panted, when she realized Cason was staring at her. “I- shit.” Normally she didn’t swear. Then again, normally she didn’t have crazy amazing mouth sex on a stranger’s kitchen cabinets. Not that he was a stranger anymore. She knew his name. And licking someone’s privates came with a certain familiarity and intimacy. “Do you have something to drink?”

  Those frosty blue eyes twinkled with humor as Cason shoved to his feet. “Water, soda, or whisky.”

  Noemi blinked. She’d never in her life drank any of the hard stuff. She stuck to wine and had never even been drunk enough to actually be hung over the next day. She swallowed hard and smiled bravely. Cheers on the new, improved, bad girl me. On the freaking do something for myself just for one night me. “I’ll take the whisky. Make it a double.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Byron

  Byron hadn’t been drunk in a long time. Not even buzzed. Compliments of having a father who drank too much, too often.

  Not that his dad was a drunk. Or at least, not until his wife died of cancer when she was in her late thirties. Byron was fourteen. It was all over in three months and six days, from diagnosis to the day they lowered her into the ground.

  After that, his father wallowed in his misery for a solid year. He did that thing that people sometimes did, where they forget that the world exists at all. After that, he threw himself into his business, which was shoes, after being absent and ghosting through, relying on his employees to pick up the slack for the past year and a half.

  Long story short, after watching his father, time and again, numb out with a bottle of whisky and mindless TV, Byron swore to himself that he wasn’t going to go down that route. He’d bought the whisky on impulse, because, after sampling enough of his father’s as a teen when his friends were over and he wanted to be a badass, he actually didn’t mind the shit.

  He figured a few drinks with Noemi, if she wanted to kick back after waffles, wouldn’t be a terrible thing. Whisky wasn’t a vice. It was something he enjoyed sparingly like a good glass of wine or that extra greasy cheeseburger now and then.

  Noemi shocked the hell out of him by raising the glass he handed her and downing that double like a pro. She only coughed for a second after. Her eyes teared up, but she swallowed hard and took a breath.

  “Well. That was… I wouldn’t know good whisky from bad, but the burn is nice.”

  If only she knew what she looked like, standing in the middle of his kitchen, her dress rumpled but pulled down, covering her again, with that freshly fucked glow on her cheeks and that sheen in her eyes.

  She looked fucking marvelous. Good enough to eat all over again.

  “I enjoy it too. Never did like anything else.” He sipped at his whisky. He’d never thrown it back in his life. Not him. He preferred to taste and savour it on the odd time he allowed himself to enjoy it, since there were few moments where it didn’t brew up a shit storm of memories.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Noemi admitted. “I haven’t tried anything stronger than wine.”

  “No? You ever tried something like that?” He indicated the cabinets and she flushed a brighter shade of red.

  “No.” Her lips wobbled into a brave smile. “But I liked it. I liked the whisky too. So far it seems like it’s a good night for firsts.” Her dark eyes narrowed into catlike slits and the way she looked at him told him that she might have a few other firsts in mind.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never tried waffles before.”

  “What?” Her adorable little nose scrunched up in confusion, but then her eyes twinkled with understanding and mirth. “Oh. No. I’ve tried them. Lots.”

  He took another sip of whisky and let it burn straight down to his stomach. He’d eaten pretty much nothing all day and it also burned right up to his brain. Or maybe the circulation to it was just cut off, affecting its normal functions, since his cock was so hard there was a good chance it was going to drop clean off, strangled to death by balls that felt like they were the size of grapefruits and hard as rocks, not all squishy and juicy.

  “Did you have some other firsts in mind? The whipped cream? Fresh berries?” Was it wrong to hope that she wanted him to take her back to the bedroom, to a bed where neither of them had ever slept in before, and fuck her raw?

  Yeah. Yeah, that was beyond wrong. Most people probably thought that behind the pearly white smile and the expensive suits he was a rich piece of shit. They might be right, but last time he checked, he didn’t have a giant gaping butthole in his forehead. His asshole was right where it was supposed to be.

  “Not exactly,” Noemi breathed. “I can’t tell you when I’m still this sober. The wine wore off about ten minutes after I got here, and I can’t have this conversation sober.”

  “In my experience, it’s not great to have it drunk either.”

  “I was just thinking a little more buzzed. Not drunk. Don’t worry.”

  “Are you sure? It’s not gentlemanly to take a drunk girl to bed.”

  Noemi’s face turned a bright shade of scarlet. The brightest yet. Her eyes did that dance they loved to do, scanning everything but his face. It wasn’t lost on him that he’d just eaten out his would-be fiancé while she had no idea that it was him. And that while he knew he was the asshole of the century for playing dirty like that, he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

  “Just one more shot. I don’t think three ounces of whisky ever got someone so drunk that they didn’t know what they were doing. I just want to take the edge off. All of the edge.”

  For a minute, at least while she was thrashing and bucking against his face and his tongue was buried in the tightest, hottest, sweetest tasting pussy he’d ever had the pleasuring of putting his tongue inside, he’d forgotten that she was who she was and he was who he was and there was a world going on outside that she was running from and he was trying to embrace.

  He passed over the bottle and watched while she poured herself her own drink. Her hands shook just a little. This time she didn’t throw it back. She sipped at it, like he did, leaning up against the espresso cupboards and white granite as if she needed them to support her.

  “Your dad must have a reason behind doing what he did.” Byron actually didn’t know why that had just come out. It wasn’t what he’d planned on saying.

  Noemi ducked her head, and the glass in her hand trembled, the liquid sloshing from side to side with the gentle vibration. “I don’t know. I’ve gone over it in my head. Over and over it. The only thing I can think of is that he wanted to see me settled and looked after. He’s not young. He and my mom had me when they were pretty much past their child rearing prime. My mom was forty-one. My dad was forty-five. He’s pushing seventy now. He loved my mom. Their marriage was one of those fairy tale kind of romances. They had their problems and it was
n’t all happily ever after, but they loved each other madly. Through all of it. I always wanted that. As a little girl I didn’t need the princess movies and stories that every other little girl loved. I just watched them. Always. My mom died a couple years ago. My dad misses her terribly. I think he wants me to find someone and have what he had. He’s worried about me. He’s just trying to secure my future.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t know.” Noemi sighed. Her knuckles went almost white on the glass she had in her hand. “I have to believe that. He’s seriously not the kind of man who would just trade me off for a business deal and some money. He loves me more than anything in the world now that mom is gone. He would never do that to me.”

  “Maybe he thought you wouldn’t mind. That if you got to know the guy, you’d be okay, and love would follow. If he loves you and knows you, he wouldn’t have picked out a monster or a real bastard.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I’m not ever going to find out now.” Noemi’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes flicked up to his face. “What about your parents? Tell me something about them now that I’ve pretty much spilled everything about me.”

  Byron choked back the yell that threatened to tear out of his throat. He never talked about his family. With anyone. Everyone he worked with knew better than to bring that shit up. Noemi didn’t, though. She stared at him with wide, innocent eyes, waiting. She. Didn’t. Know. She wasn’t trying to hurt him. She was just curious. Making small talk, which was natural after she’d spoken so intimately about her own family.

  She deserved something in return.

  This time, his sip turned into a swallow and he let the whisky burn over his tongue and down his throat, into his stomach. “My parents are both dead,” he informed her flatly. “My mom a long time ago, when I was still basically a kid. She got cancer. It was all over fast. My father died almost a decade ago in a car accident.”