by Sam Crescent
I suck in a breath. “Eric.” I cover my mouth with my hand. I hadn’t expected anything more than the beautiful wedding band he’d selected. Though I’ve grown up with more than I ever needed, this marriage isn’t a typical one. We haven’t dated for a period or spent a long engagement planning a wedding. He tossed out this ultimatum yesterday, and here we are. So this diamond ring is more than I anticipated. I’m not going to turn the gift away.
He takes my hand and slips the ring on my finger next to the wedding band. “My wife deserves the best.”
Calling me his wife is going to take some time getting used to. “It’s beautiful.” I hold my hand out and admire his good taste.
He grabs the bottle of Roederer Cristal champagne in the chiller and pours the golden liquid into the two flutes resting on the table. Lifting one, he hands the glass to me and picks up his. “Cheers.” He raises his champagne.
“To saving my father and protecting Hawkins Holdings.” I clink my flute with his and sip the crisp bubbly. He didn’t drink his champagne. I quirk an eyebrow at him. “The toast only works if all parties take a sip.”
“The toast didn’t include anything for the new couple.” His voice deepens like it does when I irritate him.
“Hmm, I thought you covered it with ‘cheers.’” I gnaw on my bottom lip.
“No wishes of happiness or great sex for the rest of our lives?”
My eyes widen. “I didn’t know if this was the typical marriage. I mean, we didn’t discuss how this relationship works in the twenty-four hours that we had to contemplate it. We’re husband and wife on paper and for the world to see, but I didn’t know if that meant we’re exclusive.”
He moves swiftly, pinning me against the back of the chair. Champagne sloshes over the edge of the flute and rolls down my hand. He sets his glass on the table behind me and then does the same with mine.
Pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he directs my gaze to his. “There are no two people more exclusive, Mrs. Walker. I don’t share.”
He lifts my hand and licks at the trail of liquid left on my skin. His velvety tongue incites heat to flow down my arm and over me.
“Am I expected to share?” I ask. Eric has never attended a single work function or party at my parents’ house with the same woman. The rules not applying to him is a real possibility. And I don’t like it.
“Does the idea of me with another woman make you jealous?” A tight smile pulls at his lips.
My heart and belly cinch. Strangely, it does fuel my green side. He’s arrogant. He’s bossy. He’s a pain in my side. But he’s also the most handsome man I’ve ever seen and he’s fucking mine—at least for now. For however long this situation lasts, I can live out all my fantasies.
“I don’t share either.” My words are clipped.
He grins. “Good. I’ll try to remember that.”
“Oh, you’ll do more than try, Mr. Walker.” I slide my hand down his chest and over his abs until I cup his dick through his pants. He tenses. He’s hard and thick in my hand. Our exchange excites him as it does me. “This doesn’t go anywhere without my permission.”
“We’ve played this game so many times.” He slides his hands down my arms, yanking my hand from his groin and gripping my wrists. The heat from his fingers scorches me.
“Are we still playing games?” I push up on my toes and lick at his neck up over his five o’clock shadow.
He growls and laves my bottom lip. “I want to lick you.” He traces my upper lip with his tongue. “Everywhere.”
I shiver. The feel of his tongue is exquisite. “What’s stopping you?” I yank his tie and mash our mouths together. My tongue plunges between his lips and slides against his. Another growl rips from him, and he wraps his arms around my waist, tugging me flush against him.
He cups the back of my head, holding me exactly where he wants me, and deepens the kiss. His tongue strokes against mine. Heat radiates from my core to all my nerve endings. I’ve never felt more alive or more desired.
He grabs the chair next to us and jerks it from its place, then backs me against the table. His chest heaves as he rips his mouth from mine. “Sit.”
I stare up at him. His blues eyes surge with heat. His brows pinch together. He wears a similar look when he’s about to make the deal of a lifetime and become even richer. But now that expression focuses on me. I’m the deal of a lifetime. And I feel like the most powerful person in the world.
He grips my waist and helps to ease me onto the edge of the steel table. My dress rides up, exposing some of my thighs, and the metal surface is warm against my skin. The flatware rattles. Champagne swirls in the glasses. Music wafts faintly from the pool area down below. A bird caws in the distance. Waves crash against the shore. I’m aware of everything at this moment. Like the memory wants to embed itself in my soul.
“Eric.” I say his name like a prayer.
He leans forward and takes my mouth again. He nibbles on my bottom lip, shifting over my mouth like a dancer moves across the stage—with precision and skill. I could kiss him all day and night for the rest of my life and it wouldn’t be enough time.
He kisses my chin, my cheek, stopping near my ear. “I’m going to feast on your pussy, Mrs. Walker, right here on this table. I’ve fantasized about this since I walked in on you on your twenty-first birthday. My mouth waters every time you enter the room.”
Hearing those words makes me dizzy because I’ve had the same fantasy. I rest my hand behind me to keep from falling back. I’ve never wanted to be with a man so desperately. I want him to devour me. To consume me. And I want to watch him do it.
He grips my knees and eases them open. His touch is soft but firm. He skates his fingertips up the inside of my thigh. My skin pebbles and a chill runs up my spine. His finger brushes the soft hairs at my core.
I don’t know if he likes a woman bare or not.
I inhale a shaky breath while he holds his.
“You really didn’t wear anything.” His voice is low. He eases a finger along my slick slit, and a bolt of electricity rips through me. My head drops back with my moan. He’s only touched me briefly and I’m trembling.
He entangles his other hand in my hair and pulls me into a kiss. His tongue delves into my mouth, tasting me in long, savoring licks. His fingers part the flesh between my legs and he slides one finger into me.
I close my eyes. He has me trapped with his mouth and fingers. I am flush, almost feverish.
“You’re so wet for me. So tight,” he murmurs against my mouth before licking into me again. I bow my back, arching into him. My pussy clenches.
He slips another finger inside and strokes me at a maddeningly slow pace. Everything about this moment has me hotter than I’ve ever been. I’m on the edge of my orgasm.
“Eric … please.” My body tightens as the tension builds.
“I want to feel you come.” The pad of his thumb rubs my clit in gentle circles, keeping with the rhythm of his thrusting fingers.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Give it to me, Celia,” he orders.
My core constricts and I climax around his fingers with a powerful cry. Intense pleasure pulsates through me. I hear his voice, but I can’t make out his words with the blood roaring in my ears.
My breath lodges when he lowers to his knee. He’s one of the most powerful men I know and yet he’s on his knees, ready to worship me.
He pulls me closer to the edge of the table and spreads my legs even further. “You’re beautiful here.” He caresses my pussy with a finger. He hooks my legs over his shoulders and spreads my lips. “So fucking beautiful. So fucking mine.” He glances up at me, his eyes blaze. Then he covers my core with his mouth.
I push at his head. It’s too much. I still quiver from the first orgasm and everything is too sensitive. The feel of his tongue, the grip of his hands on my thighs, and his fingertips digging into my skin builds the intensity. He flutters over my clit, swirling it with precision.
I close my eyes and buck against the sensations.
This is happening. I’m sprawled on a table on the penthouse terrace of the nicest hotel in the area, and Eric is on his knees with his mouth on my pussy. Eating me. Claiming me.
I didn’t think I could come again so soon. I’m greedy. I pierce my fingers in his hair and tug him harder against me.
He growls, the deep timbre pulsing through me. He likes this. He likes me like this.
I open my lids to find him staring back at me. He flattens his tongue and laves my core, slowing at my clit with pressure. God, he’s so hot like this. His blue eyes burn with lust. He rims my entrance, taunting me. Then he spears me with his tongue and I cry out. This orgasm slams into me, stealing my breath. My arms tremble viciously, threatening to give out and allow me to crash to the table. My thoughts spin out of control.
I should lie about how much I want this, how much I want him. Otherwise, I’m vulnerable. And I can’t have that. But I do want this. I do want him.
He doesn’t stop. He stares at me as his grip tightens.
He returns to my clit, covers it with his mouth, and sucks gently but diligently until I come apart one more time.
I collapse back across the table, my arms unable to hold me any longer. My chest heaves with each ragged breath. I’m completely boneless. I’ve never been more spent or more sated.
He presses kisses on the inside of my thighs. My skin is so sensitive that his five o’clock shadow tickles. A tremor rolls over me.
“Do you remember what I said that night, Celia?”
My head is jumbled. “What night?”
“You know which one.” He slides my legs off his shoulders and pushes to his feet. He leans over me, his hands flat on the table on either side of my head. “Your twenty-first birthday. The first time I watched you come apart and the last time I ever see you with another man.” He practically growls out the last part. My scent lingers on his breath and I want to purr.
His possessiveness both scares and excites me. I need to center myself. I can’t lose my head, my ground because he rocked my world with his fingers and tongue. “Hmm. You said several things that night.”
“Do you remember when I told you that you were fucking boys? That they don’t take you to the next level. Make you crave them day and night. Remember when I said you wouldn’t survive me between your legs?”
The memory of that moment flashes in my mind. I had been so angry. So frustrated. It had been the first time I’d been so bold and told him what I’d wanted—him between my legs. I shudder now.
He might have been right. I may not survive him.
Chapter Seven
Eric
Celia hasn’t responded to the memory I conjured. That night hovers as one of the single most memorable nights of my life until tonight.
Wound tighter than I’ve ever been, it takes everything I have not to unzip my pants and plunge my cock into her. I want inside her so badly I’m shaking.
I brought her to three orgasms, so her pussy is swollen and wet and oh, so ready for me. I want to bring her to three more. But I restrain myself. We have all night. We have a lifetime. And I refuse to make this night just about sex.
She’s sprawled across the table like my favorite meal. Her breaths punch out. Her skin is flushed.
I press a kiss to her lips. A soft moan escapes her. She cups the back of my head and deepens the kiss, licking into my mouth. I taste like her, and her eagerness to taste herself on my tongue, on my lips, has me standing on the precipice of an orgasm. I never thought I could come from kissing a woman, but it may be possible. I’m harder than I’ve ever been. The familiar tingle at the base of my spine flickers.
I pull back. Though I wanted to eat her pussy on this table, I’m not going to fuck her for the first time here.
“I may not survive this, but I need you inside me,” she begs. Her comment is the first recognition that she’s heard me. She lifts her hips to meet my pelvis.
I hiss out a breath. My muscles tense because I want to give her what she wants—in part because I want it, too.
“We need to eat.” I kiss her lips, then her forehead.
“You just ate.” She quirks a sexy eyebrow to emphasize her meaning.
I chuckle. “I did. And it was divine.”
I straighten and grip her wrists to haul her upright. She slumps as if her body is boneless, and my chest swells with pride. I haven’t even fucked her yet and she’s soft and sated.
“I asked room service to bring up dinner.” I glance at my watch. “They should be here any minute. If you want to go freshen up, there’s a powder room on the first floor near the entrance.”
She pushes off the table and gains her balance by resting her hands on my chest. Heat from her touch scorches me. Tilting her head back, she looks up at me. “I want to fuck you.” She slides her hands over my shoulders and around my neck, drawing me in for a kiss. It’s deep and lush.
I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her flush against me. “You’re so eager, Mrs. Walker. We’ll get to that, but you need sustenance.”
She releases a throaty laugh. “I’m nineteen years your junior. I have youth on my side. What you mean is you need sustenance.”
I squeeze her even closer to me. My erection throbs against her belly. “Sweetheart, I just made you come multiple times with my fingers and my mouth. Imagine what I can do with my cock.”
Her breath catches, but she recovers quickly. “Show me.”
“We’ll eat first.” And as if I’d summoned the waitstaff, two young men dressed in black pants, white dress shirts, and black bow ties wheel out a cart of food onto the terrace. I’m grateful they didn’t arrive five minutes ago or they’d have received an eyeful. I release Celia and pull out her chair. “Sit, please.”
She pouts but straightens her dress and lowers into the seat. I assist in edging her to the table. The waiters push the cart closer. Sweet potato bisque sloshes in its bowls. A half dozen of oysters on half shells sit in a circle on a platter. Silver domes cover two plates.
Celia plucks her champagne flute from the table and sips. The waiter places the oysters between us and sets a bowl of soup in front of each of us.
“Thank you, handsome,” she says in a saucy voice.
I snap my head in her direction. Is she flirting with the boy? I can call him “boy” because I could easily be his father. If he’s a day over eighteen, I’d be surprised.
She quirks one side of her mouth and her eyelids flutter. It’s a coquettish look. But there’s a sparkle in her gray eyes. I’ve seen it before when I brushed off her advances. She doesn’t like the word no. She’s testing me.
The other waiter pulls the champagne bottle from the chiller. “More champagne, madam?”
She holds her glass out and he fills it with the golden liquid. She reaches out and touches his hand wrapped around the bottle. “You’re too kind.”
The waiter widens his eyes, clearly stunned by the contact.
I watch her. She’s quite like a siren. Both servers are under her spell when she bats her eyelashes at them or releases a breathy laugh.
“Gentlemen, please wheel the main course inside. I’ll grab it when we’re ready for it. Thank you for your service.” My tone is sharp and dismissive, but it’s more for Celia than either of the men.
“Yes, sir,” one of them says. They both scurry off into the penthouse with the cart.
“You didn’t have to be so stern with them.” She grabs her napkin from the table and spreads it over her lap. Then she picks up a shell and works the oyster with the cocktail fork.
“I was being stern for your benefit. It’s not very wife-like flirting with the help on our wedding night.”
She puts the shell to her lips, tips her head back, and swallows the oyster.
It’s sexy as fuck. The way she tilts her head and opens her mouth sends a bolt of lust to my groin. The constriction of her throat as she swallows has a growl clawing up my chest. I imagine he
r in a similar position when she takes my cock in her mouth.
“If you’re going to get jealous every time I’m kind to the opposite sex, we’re going to be arguing a lot.” She shoots me a glare before picking up the soup spoon and sipping the sweet potato bisque. “Mmm.”
“Is that what you call it? Being kind?” I eye her as I bring an oyster to my mouth and eat it. The briny flavor bursts on my tongue and I swallow back the plump oyster.
“What would you call it?” she asks between sips of her soup.
I smile. She’s used to calling the shots. No doubt in her previous relationships, she snapped her fingers and had her beau on his knees. I understand. I’ve been on my knees before her as well, but not because she ordered me there. I chose to be there.
I pluck another oyster from the platter and eat it before I respond. “I think you are upset that I won’t immediately fuck you. You’re used to getting your way. You usually get what you want when you want it. So, my telling you to wait has grated on your nerves.”
“There are several things about this situation that grates on my nerves.” She lifts her champagne and gulps back the remaining liquid before reaching for the bottle.
I grab her wrist. “You’re not getting drunk.”
“You’re not telling me what to do,” she snaps. She narrows her eyes at me and yanks her arm to try to free my grasp.
“I don’t want to tell you what to do.” I release my hold on her. “I’d prefer you didn’t act like a spoiled brat.”
“You coerced me into marrying you. I’m here. I did what you demanded. But you won’t treat me like I’m not an equal in this relationship.” She sets her flute on the table, pushes back, and stands. “Fuck you.” She storms toward the French doors leading to the luxurious two-story penthouse.
I close my eyes and shake my head. Perhaps the spoiled brat comment was unnecessary even if she behaved a little immature. The idea that she may not be here of her own free will and desire unsettles me even though I know if I hadn’t demanded it, neither of us would be in this penthouse. I guess a little part of me hoped there was something within her that wanted to be here. Wanted to be Mrs. Walker.