Taming Alaska (So Not Prince Charming Book 1)
Page 6
“Fuck,” Shane says to Nikita. She’s actually grinning, which doesn’t surprise me that she’s happy about obliterating my wedding.
“No, no you don’t,” I mutter almost too loudly. A puzzled expression spreads across Blake’s strikingly handsome face.
Shane stomps out of my wedding before I do. Damn him. And now Nikita stalks out. As my sorority sister, she knows better than to leave before me, but that good-for-nothing Shane, he catches rotting salmon carcasses swimming upstream to their deaths with his bare teeth.
At least, they’re gone now. My hands strangle my bouquet of fragrant white lilies to the point they’re wilting. I hate Shane and Nikita.
“I do,” Blake says with the poise I admire. He’s the rising star at his father’s firm and in my heart.
Lucky me. I am officially Mrs. Charming.
Blake gives me a kiss that should only be done behind closed doors. My guests whoop and holler, except Dad and Fay. He was not ready to give me away. Fay has wanted me gone since the day I was born, so she should be happy.
A few Stetsons are tossed into the air. Dad curls his fists at his sides, like he wants to clock Blake. No man is good enough for his little girl.
Fay’s eyes roll up so far into her head she reminds me of the Exorcist. My little sister Willa claps her hands, giddy with delight. Surely, Mom is watching from heaven and giving me the thumbs up. Anyway, I hope so.
I fling up my heel for the perfect wedding kiss it’s supposed to be. After all, Blake is what every girl dreams about, tall, dark, racy, a good family, and impressively handsome—the flawless man. He fits Prince Charming to a tee.
I have it all, so I should be ecstatic. Right? This is what I have dreamed about ever since I was a little girl, but a slight emptiness threatens to upset my bliss.
I’d like to think Shane caused my doubts, but it would’ve been nice for Mom to give me her blessing and approval.
“I will love you always,” Blake whispers into my ear, tickling it. “You’re finally all mine,” he says, squeezing my waist. “Wait till you see what I’ve planned for our honeymoon.”
Tahiti, Fiji, or Maui spells perfection, warmth, and plenty of sunshine with a coastal breeze to cool me off. I know what I have planned—nights of tangling in the sheets and hanging from the tropical ceiling fan.
When Blake skillfully guides me down the aisle, a surge of electricity fires in my core all the way to my toes. My bridesmaids including Gina and Christine grin their delight. I perfectly matched them with Blake’s wide array of eye-candy friends.
My right fingers drum out a nervous staccato against the flare of my gown to the song Chandelier, playing in the background. We glide down the aisle to our reception held in the mansion’s great ballroom and the adjoining sunroom and open outside deck.
I glance up at Blake whose well-muscled arm supports my back while his hand rests against my hip. He simply won’t tell me where we are going. It’s a surprise. I hate surprises, and no matter how often I tell him this, he keeps coming up with them.
“Won’t you give me a hint?” I ask, batting my dark thick lashes.
He kisses my lips, melting me like molten lava. “Bring something warm to wear.”
My face pinches with concern. “Warm as in coats? Or warm as in beachwear.”
Blake grins. “Maybe.”
He needs to be more specific. Surely he’s pulling my leg about needing winter clothes I don’t even own.
Blake pinches my nose. I hate that, too, but that’s an easy fix, and I can get over that with the way he looks. I love his devil-may-care black hair and those eyes, a brilliant blue that could incite a riot.
When he walks casually into the ballroom, one hand in his tux pocket, every head turns to watch him. From the introspective tilt of his jaw to his self-assurance, he has charmed all of Mom’s friends and Dad’s array of influential Mexican politicos and drug runners.
“Trust me,” Blake says in that controlled tone of his. “You’ll love our honeymoon. Your father and one of my closest friends helped plan it.”
“My dad did?” I don’t like the sound of that because Dad and I spent most of our time fishing together, but I smile anyway.
“Yes.” Blake’s face gleams from his dazzling, white teeth. When he smiles, my carnal lust grows.
When I see Fay from the back, at first I think she’s Mom. A dark, sinking feeling fills my chest, no different than when Shane found her body. I’ll have no unhappy thoughts on my wedding day.
“What’s wrong?” Blake asks.
“Nothing.” Nothing I can put my finger on.
He gives me another one of those wildly, passionate kisses I so adore while his hand pilots me into the throng of awaiting guests.
Fay planned my wedding perfectly. She invited all the girls who had gossiped about me in high school and college, regardless of whether any of it was true or not. When the Austin Chronicle announced my engagement, everyone had turned pea green with envy.
And now the piece de resistance. Ever since Trevor stole my virginity, I’ve waited for the ultimate pleasure to happen to me. All my sorority sisters brag about how many big Os they have, but me, I’m a withering flower waiting for the sun and rain to unfurl my petals.
“I’ve got a surprise for you, too,” I say, kissing and nipping Blake’s sensual lips—his heat burning into me.
“I’m looking forward to that,” he says, his hands grasping my waist and searing through the layers of silk and tulle of my dress.
Panicky screams and sobs come from the outdoor shower toward the west side of the estate. My head and a few others jerk up. I recognize the tiny voice.
“Wait here for me,” I say, giving Blake a quick peck. I hitch up my dress and hurry to the definitive sounds of a child in crisis. Three-year-old Felipe Fuentes’ face is about to burst it’s so puffy with tears. His finger is jammed in the drain, and he’s trying hard to yank it free. His tousle of dark curls fall into his eyes that he tosses back with a shake of his head. I want a nest of little ones like him.
“Felipe,” I say in a stern voice. “Stop pulling on it. You’ll make it worse.”
He quits moving. Good. I step onto the stone-tiled floor of the shower. His finger has swollen and pulses an angry red.
“Push your finger back into the hole and leave it there while I get some cold water and soap. Okay?”
He nods like a bobble head. I don’t know why Fay invited the Fuentes, other than the drug lord wanted them on the guest list. Maria never watches her three boys. I’m sure the rest are running around loose like headless chickens.
I step into the inside bathroom adjoining the outdoor shower, leaving the door wide open so Felipe can see me and won’t start panicking again. I fill a cup with cold water and grab the liquid soap dispenser.
For the past month, I’ve taken many outdoor showers with Blake, naked and wet, his amazing body slipping over mine. All the right opportunities have presented themselves for me to garner the coveted award of sexual pleasure, yet it hasn’t happened. I have the perfect man, so it should be easy.
“It’s okay, Felipe,” I say, pouring the cold water onto his finger. “Leave it there.” I let the soap drizzle onto his swollen finger and into the drain. I place my hand over his and slowly rotate his finger to grease it up until it slides out.
“See,” I say. “All better.”
He goes to hug me, but I stop him before his dirty hands mar my Vera Wang. “Let’s wash those hands of yours.”
I lift him up to the sink and let him suds up his hands, which he does in a flurry of bubbles, giggling. “What were you doing?”
“A snake went into the drain,” he says in Spanglish. “I was going to give it to you as a surprise for your wedding.”
Now those kinds of surprises I don’t mind. I love children, but it’s something Blake and I haven’t discussed. His patient nature will make him a great dad. “That’s very sweet. Let’s go find your mommy,” I say, so I can kill her.
“Hi Maria.” I slip Felipe’s hand into hers, so that she has to set down her plate overflowing with shrimp, caviar, and crab.
Felipe juts out his lower lip. “Can’t I stay with you Aunt Cindy?”
If he were mine, I’d never let him out of my sight. It’s too easy for boys to get themselves into trouble; though I’m surprised Felipe’s not sick of me from all the hugs and kisses I shower him with. “Not today. In a couple weeks, when I get back from my honeymoon, I’ll take you canoeing.”
“Okay,” he says, still pouting. His pudgy little hands grab at my full skirt to hug me.
I whisper into Maria’s ears, “If I have to rescue one of your brood again, you will be asked to leave but not until I cut your fallopian tubes.” In a louder voice, I add, “So nice to see you, mi prima.” I smile before leaving to search for Blake.
Hitching up my skirt, I waltz by Dad’s office where he pours over paperwork. His fingers scratch his forehead while his reading glasses dangle from his other hand. The concern engrained in his brow upsets me, so I step into his office. Ever since Mom died, he’s been responsible for the estate. I used to do the books for him, but after I entered college, he hired someone.
Why is he working on that now? “Dad, are you okay?”
“Mi hermosa hija.” He gives me a tired smile. “I’m fine.”
“What are you doing?”
“Nada. Don’t you worry. I have some work to attend to, but I’ll be out in a moment to toast your happiness.” He gives me one of the exhausted looks Mom used to give me.
Maybe she’s right about money and men. Taking care of all the estate has dragged him down.
“Are you sure?” I don’t want to leave him here with the stack of papers on his desk when I could do it pretty quickly. “I could help you.”
“I’m fine.” He waves me off. “Run along. It’s your day, Princess.” Unlike Shane, the nickname doesn’t sound snarky coming out of Dad’s mouth.
That’s when my drug lord uncle presses his warm hand onto my shoulder almost causing me to have a heart attack.
“Tio,” I say, sounding more startled than I should. Unlike Fay, I wouldn’t have invited this man.
“Congratulations.” He kisses my hand, sending a ripple of creepy goosebumps up my arm. “If you don’t mind, Cynthia, I’d like to speak to your father in private.”
I know I should stay and listen to give my dad advice, but he nods at me to leave, so with great hesitation, I do.
In the guest room where I dressed earlier today, I hear the murmurings of lovemaking. I peek into the room where Fay and, oh sweet goodness, Trevor are locked in an amorous embrace. Wait until she sleeps with him. She’s in for a surprise.
I scoot past them before either sees or hears me snickering. Maybe, I shouldn’t have left her in charge of the guests.
In the sunroom, cluttered with linen-covered tables and deck chairs for the reception, Blake’s laughing and chatting with one of the waiters, a very cute one, nice firm butt, muscular build, not one of his lemon-yellow hairs out of place. Too pretty for me. His hand cups Blake’s elbow while he leans into him, a tad too friendly, but Blake pulls back from him, chuckling politely.
What Shane said a month ago comes to mind, slightly rattling me. I’ve already proven Blake is far from gay. He’s always ready for me in bed. He just hasn’t done it for me yet, so there must be something wrong with me that a man that sexy hasn’t made me scream out an orgasm. It’ll happen. It has to.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, joining them.
The waiter hangs his head before I get a good look at him and scurries away to hand out hors d'oeuvres. He must worry that he’ll be fired for neglecting his duties.
Blake kisses my forehead. “Nothing that would interest you, my pet.”
Okay, I’m not your dog. He better stop that immediately.
I quickly forget his condescending name for me when his smooth hands brush against my arms. I love that he takes care of himself, and that he’s refined and that his touch jolts me fully awake, making me feel alive.
I tug on Blake’s hand. “I have a surprise for you.” This will make us both happy.
He follows me into the bride’s chambers. “I love surprises.”
My arms encircle his neck and rest on his broad shoulders. I press my breasts against the solid slab of chest muscles. Married at last, and now for the big O. It’s my time. I grope his penis and balls, and he squeezes his eyes shut and groans. His cock immediately stands erect for me. He’s so not gay.
“We don’t want to mess up your dress for the wedding photos,” he says, giving me a sly smile, his teeth tugging on my lip. The seductive action of his tongue sends a shot into the dark places of my sex.
“Please,” I beg, licking my lips. I hate to plead, but desperation rears its ugly head. I’ve been close enough to taste fulfillment. I just need a little push to send me tumbling over the edge.
A wicked smile lifts one end of his kissable lips. “Anything for you, my darling.”
Better than pet.
Blake slides his hands underneath my dress, along my thighs, and yanks down my panties. His fingers glide along my slit, moistened and hot. “You are so ready, as usual, Mrs. Waits.”
I smile at my new name.
He lifts my arms, shackling them one-handed against the wall. His lips press against mine while his other undoes his buckle and zipper. There’s no mistaking his eagerness or mine. I love this man.
His hand skates along my big booty. I don’t have a skinny one like my blonde sorority sisters.
He grabs a handful of its flesh, and his kneading spikes the temperature between my thighs to its boiling point. “We could break in your beautiful ass.”
My sorority sisters love anal sex. I’m not quite ready, not until my vagina shudders out an orgasm. “Not yet.”
Using his teeth, Blake tears open a condom package and slips the latex on. I tug out his shirt from his cummerbund and slide my hand under to feel the silky curls on his chest and the abs sculpted from hours at the gym.
He moans and mumbles my name. My tongue explores his full lower lip then trails up to his ear. He laughs, forcing my hand onto his erection as he presses it inside me.
I could use a little more foreplay here.
As the rhythm of him pulses against me, my nerves light on fire. Almost there, almost, almost. His cock jerks and releases, and once again, I’m left hanging. I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh God. This is completely unfair.
“You didn’t come this time,” Blake says, disappointment shadowing his eyes.
I have never come, not once. He doesn’t need to hear my problems, not on our perfect day. I’m good at faking it. My friends said it would happen after I got married to the man I love. They swore it would. A pout pulls down my lips.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, kissing me. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. We need to join the reception before they miss us. I’ve already been given grief by my groomsmen for disappearing to be with you. I love you, Mrs. Waits.”
The words temporarily soothe me, but I hang back, sexual frustration welling up inside me.
Blake wipes a tear from my eye. “Aw, honey. Don’t be upset. You’ve always enjoyed it before.”
Shall I tell him now? No. It’s our wedding day. “Tonight, sex on the plane?”
He reaches for my hand. “I swear I’ll make it up to you. Come on. Let’s join our guests.”
Blake stares at me with those sterling blue eyes, his lashes so thick they feather my face when he presses his cheek against mine.
Tahiti, Seychelles, Fiji. Where is he taking me on our honeymoon? His family could afford to sweep us off to anywhere.
&nbs
p; “I’ll be there in a minute.” I don’t follow him into the ballroom where many of the guests await. Instead, I step outside through the French doors but only after slipping my panties on and checking my dress and makeup.
The warm air caresses my skin. I take off my heels, lift the hem of my dress, and dangle my feet in the tepid pool water. Most everyone is inside in the air-conditioning. I’d love to put on my bikini and jump in. I close my eyes, imagining our honeymoon on a tropical beach and us practically naked, and the length of his erection rubbing against the satiny folds between my legs. I just have to think positively. It’ll happen.
I inhale the intoxicating scent of roses that my father has nurtured in Mom’s gardens where a statue of Saint Christopher watches over the blooms. Dad says the patron saint will keep us safe.
“What the fuck?” a deep resonant voice that can only belong to Shane O’Flannery says.
I jump at the bark of his voice, ruining my moment of peace. I hate him. I hate Nikita. Why didn’t they just leave?
Turning around, I spot Nikita Harper arguing with Shane at the other end of the pool. I don’t get her. She wanted a rich man, and Shane has loads of money now, not to mention his rockin’ hard body.
Now if she could teach him table manners, clean him up a bit, and housebreak him, she may be able to salvage him.
I wiggle my butt uncomfortably, recalling the saw-offed shotgun in his jeans and reminding me of my constant sexual frustration. His kiss still lingers on my tongue, so I hate him and the blonde he dates.
Shane gets up, knocking over a deck chair and shaking a fist at her. Go ahead hit her. I want to watch. Ever since I dyed my hair blonde, Nikita has called me a cheap knockoff of her. Bitch.
Not to mention the time she gave a pole dance at a sorority party to my old boyfriend and slept with him before we broke up while she was dating Shane. Did she honestly think Shane repaid her debt by giving me a lap dance for my birthday? It was pretty good though. My sex throbs thinking about him rubbing Secretariat against my thigh.
Panting while my breasts tingle and my clit aches, I should find my husband and seduce him again. It’ll work this time. Unlike Shane, Blake has it all.