Groom: The Deceit Duet Book Two

by Logan Chance

  She smiles bigger. “You’re so good to me. Such a good husband.”

  I lean down and kiss her. “I want to be good with you.”

  She leans into our kiss and allows me to deepen it, opening her mouth. I taste her sweetness. I don’t give a shit about my clothes. I let myself crawl into the tub with her, only leaving my shoes behind. Clementine laughs as we fall into the bath together, still locked in our kiss.

  “You’re all wet,” she says between breaths.

  “Mm,” I hum and move my mouth to her rose-scented neck. My fingers go exploring. “So are you, baby.”

  Clementine moves her hands to my chest quickly unbuttoning my shirt and tugging at my grey tie as she tries to strip me of my wet clothes.

  I help her pull my shirt free and then flip her around until her hands are grabbing the edge of the tub, the side that has more of a bar than just smooth ceramic.

  Ok, so maybe I had a little of this in mind too when I built it. But still, for her pleasure.

  I pull on her hips and jut her ass out toward me, slapping my hand against her wet skin until she purrs. Her lips are swollen with desire and I press my mouth to her center, shoving my tongue as deep inside of her as I can get.

  “Oh, Gabriel.” she moans and her voice echoes off the walls. I fucking love it. “Mm.”

  I lap at her, spreading her cheeks to get deeper inside of that sweet pussy. There’s nothing better than the taste of her on my mouth. If I wouldn’t drown I’d have her just sit on my fucking face so I could drink her dry. There’s nothing hotter than her being bent over the ledge losing her mind as she rocks back against my mouth, begging for more than just my kissing of her clit and swipes of my tongue.

  I slap her ass again. She moans so loud I almost lose my shit right there. I’m still locked inside my pants and my dick is a beggar who desperately wants to be freed from this prison. I can’t take it anymore. I pull myself to my feet, the water rushing over me as I stand.

  Clementine turns around completely out of breath and looking absolutely fuckable. I don’t even have to ask. She lunges for my zipper like a hungry little minx. Her hands are expert as she pulls my dick free, gasping a little as she takes me in her hands and pumps.

  “I love how big you are,” she purrs, my precious little kitten. Her tongue flicks out and licks along the tip. “Mmm.”

  I take her head in my hands and draw her in. Clementine wraps her sweet lips around me and I groan. She’s so good it only takes looking at her pretty face to push me over the edge.

  “Come in my mouth,” she says.

  I do.

  I laugh to myself.

  Ah.

  I do.

  I WAS ready to take her out when I got home. That plan is basically fucked because of that epic fucking bathtub. Not that I’m going to complain. I can get a table at any respectable restaurant in this city. But it does require going through the whole process of dressing again.

  Not that I can complain about that either. Because it also means I get to watch Clementine disrobe and rub lotion up and down her legs as she lies on our bed. I have to use every ounce of restraint and discpline to not pounce on her like some kind of wild fucking animal. Again.

  I promised I'd make tonight special for her birthday.

  I’ve already screwed up my first set of plans by being late thanks to bathtub sex. Although I suppose orgasms are great gifts, this should be a little less about me and more about her—that’s what I’m getting at.

  “I like the blue tie on you,” she says, rubbing her knees as she pulls them against her chest. I see everything. Ev-er-y-th-iiiiing.

  Is she trying to kill me?

  “Are you trying to kill me?”

  She looks over my way, seeming innocent to the display she’s putting on. Her face flushes. “Oh,” she squeaks.

  “I’m not complaining,” I add. “But there’s no way we’re leaving this place if you don’t stop doing that.”

  She hops up from the bed and rushes to the closet.

  “I’ll pretend not to be hurt,” I joke.

  “Sorry, but cake is everything.”

  I smile. “I suppose it is.”

  She picks out a dress that matches the cobalt blue tie she hands me. The back is unzipped and Clem twirls around, lifting her hair up into a messy heap. “Zip me up.”

  “Mm.” I kiss her spine. “It’s the least I can do, birthday girl.”

  She giggles. “Now you need to stop.”

  I kiss her again, grabbing her waist as I whisper in her ear. “Do I?”

  “Gabriel,” she warns.

  “Mm, that doesn’t affect me in the way you’d like it to, Clementine.” But I pull away anyhow. I zip her up and she twirls once again to thank me with a haste kiss.

  “Want me to do yours?” she says.

  “Yes,” I say immediately. Not even knowing or giving a damn what ‘yours’ she is referring to. My zipper? My tie? My dick? Do it all. As many and much as you like.

  Forever.

  I SURPRISE her in the garage, holding my hands over her eyes.

  “This is just one of many gifts you’ll get tonight.”

  She’s almost bouncing on her toes. So I let go, letting her see her new gift.

  Across the garage, a classic vintage car wrapped in a big red bow. The plate is custom with her name. I want her to drive the best, too. I have a fleet of cars that are the epitome of luxury, speed, and status. Ultimate comfort. They decorate a one of a kind garage built specially to house them as if this is more of a museum than a place where you park your daily driver.

  This car is the most special in my arsenal. And, I wanted her to have it.

  “Happy birthday, my love.”

  She stands speechless for a moment. “This can’t be real.”

  I take her hand and kiss her palm. “I think that every time I introduce you as my wife. Every time I look over at you in bed as you sleep. I want to get to dinner at some point tonight so I’ll keep quiet on when it most surprises me.”

  She laughs. And then wraps her arms around me.

  “Thank you. I love you. Still too much though.”

  “Not enough,” I counter. “Never enough.”

  We speed our way through the city, finally ending up at a posh little place where we get a table in the kitchen—which Clementine is over the fucking moon about—and so am I by default. But honestly, it’s pretty damn loud in the kitchen and not quite the intimate dinner I was hoping to give her. But if it makes her happy, I’ll fucking do it. And right now she’s beaming as she sips slowly at her wine, completely transfixed on all the happenings of the kitchen.

  We’re treated to a special menu. The food is superior, but honestly, it’s her reaction to it all that I love the most.

  “Oh God that’s good.” she wipes her mouth clean from lobster ravioli.

  “That won’t be the last time you’ll say that tonight.” I tease.

  Clementine looks over at me. “I sure hope not.”

  I lean in and kiss her soundly, not giving a fuck about who is around. She doesn’t seem to care either. That is . . . until the cake is brought out. Because, in her words, chocolate cake is everything.

  And I suppose today—on her birthday—that is more than allowable.

  “WHAT IS THAT?” I ask, pulling back from the pair of soft lips I’ve got mine pressed against. “Cotton candy?”

  We’re jammed in the backseat of her newly acquired ‘68 Mustang and I don’t really give a fuck about the flavor of her lipgloss if I’m being honest, but her mouth is too sweet not to comment. I lick the taste of her from my lips and stare into her eyes as a smile spreads across her face.

  “Toasted Marshmallow,” she says. “But close.”

  I pull her bra strap down and suck on the skin of her shoulder. “Mm. Of course.”

  She giggles under me and pulls my mouth back to hers. “Marshmallow,” she says, kissing my mouth hotly, her teeth nipping my bottom lip tenderly before she pushes my he
ad back to her skin. I taste her neck. “Vanilla Cupcake.”

  “Little sweet shop, aren’t you?”

  She cups my face and brings me back to her lips but pauses. “You have no idea.”

  “Mm.” I lean in and taste her lips again. “I think I do, actually. Always up for a refresher course, though.”

  She runs her hands across my shirt, popping the tightness of it as it hugs my chest. “Can’t lie. It’s hard to deny you like this. And also, I don’t know if you know this but it’s kind of my birthday today.”

  “What did you wish for?”

  “Already have everything I ever wanted, Gabriel. I have you.”

  “Baby, let me take off your dress,” I say. “I’ll eat that cupcake so fucking good.”

  She smacks her palm over my mouth. “Gabriel.” But she’s all smiles.

  I taste her palm. “You know I will. The best birthday present you’ll ever get. I promise.”

  She licks her lips.

  And as promised, I’m going to lick everywhere else.

  We’re not in the best place to be doing this shit, but who the fuck cares. Definitely not me. I’m about to put Dr. Suess to shame with my rendition of ‘I’ll fuck her near, I’ll fuck her far, I’ll fuck her anywhere we’re in the backseat of a car that’s too damn small for this kind of thing. But here we are. And it’s never stopped us before.

  I hike her dress up to her hips and rip her barely-there underwear in one fell swoop. They mean shit to me. I need her. Now.

  “Tell me,” I say.

  “Put your mouth on me,” she pleads, parting her legs.

  “Your wish, birthday girl.”

  She moans as I tease, crouching to gain access to her, putting just the slightest touch of my tongue on her skin at first. She’s so wet. I don’t want it to be over too quick. I want to spend as much time as I can pleasuring her tonight. Hopefully before someone calls the cops on us for this act. We’re not exactly parked in the most private of parking spots and anyone—if they choose—could spy on us at any time of their choosing. It’s not like my other cars where the glass is tinted and we could fuck like wild animals in my limo without anyone being any wiser. This is a small car with little privacy.

  It only makes me harder.

  Clem doesn’t seem to mind.

  We’re below the level of the window and I try to keep us that way as I put my mouth back on her clit. I hum so she’ll feel the vibration as I put my middle finger inside her tight pussy and pump slowly, using my time wisely to tease that spot up high. I curl my finger like I’m calling her. That’s what she likes. Her back arches and everything changes about how lost she gets. That’s how I know she’s close.

  I’m hard as fuck, too. But I want the rest of the night to be about her. Fuck my feelings.

  She goes still for a moment as I pump her quick, speeding up my tongue to send her over the edge.

  “I’m coming. Oh, Gabriel …”

  “I love you.” I kiss her thighs as she falls back to earth. “Happy birthday.”

  “Definitely the best gift,” she pants.

  “I was thinking the same thing.” I kiss her knees, her stomach, her chest, neck . . . until I find her lips and delve in, not even coming up for air when I’m in need. I’m consumed by this woman. And I want her forever. No matter the cost. No matter the risk. Nothing matters. I’d go to any lengths. I’d do anything for her.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I have so many people to thank for this book. It’s crazy to think how far I’ve come in the three plus years I’ve been a published author. And there’s so many people to thank for helping me.

  Paula, you’ve been there since day one, helping in every way possible and I truly appreciate it ALL. I really do.

  BST, right? Blood, sweat, and tears.

  But, I’m grateful for your willingness to always stand by my side.

  Vanessa Spinner thank you for your extra help in a time of need.

  Thank you to the ladies who work hard day in and day out pimping my books to the world.

  All of the bloggers, fans, and ladies of my FB group (you know who you are) thank you for always supporting me.

  * * *

  I pour my heart into my books, and I am so excited for everything that’s to come this year and next. STAY TUNED.

  Thank you to everyone who has stood by me for all this time. I appreciate your support.

  * * *

  To all the bloggers, I’d be nowhere without you. Thank you for your continued support of my work and believing in me.

  YOU CAN ALWAYS FIND ME HANGING OUT WITH MY GROUP ON FACEBOOK. JOIN TODAY!

  Keep reading for a sneak peek of COLD HEARTED BASTARD available SOON.

  Please grab your SPECIAL GIFT by signing up for my newsletter.

  SNEAK PEEK COLD HEARTED BALLER

  Chapter One

  Calliope

  * * *

  My veins are going to explode. I scan the list of ingredients in the Max Energy drink I consumed this morning, checking to see if drugs are listed. They aren’t.

  With a move I imagine is worthy of Maxwell Hunter, the star pitcher who endorses it, I wind my arm back and rocket the sleek silver can across the conference room of Mayhem Marketing. It thunks against the cream-colored wall and lands with a thump inside the small trash can.

  “Yesss,” I exclaim as the door opens.

  “They’re ready for you, Calliope,” Rita, assistant to the man who’s going to hire me to cater all of his marketing company’s functions, informs me with a furrowed brow.

  He hasn’t actually agreed to hire me yet, but he will, because according to the energy drink ‘It’s winning in a can.’

  “Let’s do this, Rita,” I nearly squeal, ping-ponging around the room where I’ll be serving the King and his court various items I’ve created. “I’m going to win them over with my baking skills.”

  “You ok?” she asks, at half the speed I seem to be talking.

  I give her two very animated thumbs up, feeling like my arms are going to shoot off to the ceiling.

  “Yes.” I smooth my hands down the long length of my hair, from root to bottom. The usually heavy brown locks feel like they’re standing on end. I need to calm down, but I can’t. I feel electrified. Times one hundred.

  She moves to the corner of the room as Tobias Longwood, grey-haired owner of Mayhem Marketing, enters, followed by two men in suits. My heart rate accelerates to an unnatural rhythm. I’m not sure if it’s the energy drink or the fact I’ve been dreaming about this opportunity for such a long time. If I can land this account, I’ll finally have the extra money to expand my cafe. Thanks to Max Energy, that thought makes me extra excited.

  “Miss Thomas, hello,” Tobias greets me. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I respond a little too loud over the pulse in my ears, giving his outstretched hand several vigorous pumps.

  His brow furrows just like Rita’s did, and I try to dial it down a notch, but my dial is broken.

  It can’t be normal that my lips tingle when I smile as Tobias introduces me to the two execs who will help decide my fate about whether or not I’ll be hired.

  While the people I’m here to impress take a seat at the rectangular table, I chatter, uncontrollably, about my creations and with jittery hands remove the rich chocolate cake adorned with the Mayhem logo from its box.

  “Looks delicious,” Tobias compliments me as I move closer at warp speed.

  My feet walk faster than my heels can keep up, and instead of placing my showpiece in the center of the table, the cake somehow teeters amidst a chorus of gasps to end up a ganache mess... right in Tobias’ lap. All three layers.

  “I’m so sorry,” I apologize, staring at the broken lump on his groin.

  “Are you on drugs?” he asks with a pinched face, looking down at the red Mayhem logo smeared on his pristine white shirt.

  “No,” I deny, “I can explain.” My eyes dart at a rapid pace to the shocked ex
pressions on the other faces seated at the table.

  “You get one shot here. That was yours. Thank you for coming in, Miss Thomas.”

  “It was an energy drink—Max Energy—by that famous baseball player,” I tell him, because like he said, this is my one shot. “Listen, whoever marketed that as success in a can should be fired.”

  As he removes a lump of cake from his soiled trousers into the garbage can Rita retrieved, he informs me, “We designed that campaign.”

  The room is silent as I pack my things and go. All of my dreams follow me out the door. I'm too high on Max Energy to be depressed.

  I have no one to blame but myself. And Maxwell Hunter, the man behind the drink.

  When I get home, I drop my purse on the kitchen counter and beeline straight for the fridge. On the top shelf, next to the milk, sit the remaining cans of Max Energy. I tilt one of the tall cylinders and read the tiny black font:

  Max Energy will give you that extra you need to reach your goals. It’s winning in a can.

  Share your success.

  Leave a review.

  The words taunt me before I toss it in the trash. The four cans left in my fridge follow it into the garbage before I move over to my laptop on the island in my kitchen. I type in the web address to the Nile site listed on the can and search for Max Energy, clicking on the tiny thumbnail, and then, scrolling through all the five star reviews.

  Delicious! I finished a project for work that earned me a bonus.

  Homerun. Finally, put together the bookshelf I’d been dreading.

  Review after review raves about this drink.

  7 stars!

  I'd give it 100 if I could! I've never tasted anything like this or had so much energy. You will love it!

  Seven out of five?

  I can barely refrain from commenting to ReviewQueen that her rating is impossible. You can not give more than you have.

  I click on ‘My Review’ and select one star. Annoyance flows through my veins and spills out from my fingertips as I type.