Mrs. Hernandez had insisted that they have some of the cake she’d ordered for their wedding reception. But, as he ate a piece from his wife’s hand, catching her index finger in his mouth, he’d only wanted this.
Her body jerked when his mouth finally made it to her pussy, but he held her upright. She moaned when he took her clit into his mouth, and he smiled against her folds as she tried to scalp him through her dress.
He wasn’t letting her sleep tonight until her body knew who it belonged to. Even if he couldn’t wring the words from her mouth, her pleasure would make it clear.
* * * *
Laura never would have guessed that a reformed misogynist pig would have learned to eat pussy like a fucking god, but miracle-of-miracles, her husband was a champion at it. And it wasn’t fair to call him a misogynist, because he’d proven that title didn’t fit anymore.
When he took her clit between his lips, brushing it with the edge of his teeth in a way he knew drove her crazy, she wasn’t sure she could stay standing. But he held her up, and she wasn’t about to pick an argument about it this time. Every time he did this—and he seemed to love doing it—her body became primed more easily. Even as she knew that she should be pulling away from him, her body wouldn’t let her. Her senses tuned to his movements, and at this point, just a look or a touch could get her close to coming. The first time, it had just been his words, and now it was the touch and memory that had her spiraling into an orgasm with an unladylike screech.
Only when the last of her tremors had subsided did he break contact with his mouth and lower her to the edge of the bed. Still, he didn’t come out from beneath her dress. He kissed up and down her thigh reverently, and she petted him. Although she didn’t want to accept him soothing her, she wanted to give that to him.
She didn’t know how long they were like that, but she finally pulled up her skirt. His hair was ruffled, and his beard was still wet with her. The power in being able to turn this man into the debauched picture in front of her had her needing him inside her.
“What?” He appeared to be as dazed as she was, and he hadn’t even gotten off yet. He licked his lips as though he savored the taste of her, and it gutted her.
“I didn’t want you to actually suffocate down there.”
She gasped when he ran his fingers over her, nerve endings still ablaze.
“This? I could never suffocate down here.” He entered her with one finger, just making the need worse. “This is ambrosia. It could keep me alive on a desert island.” He withdrew his hand and licked his finger. She couldn’t look away from the filthy way his tongue swirled around his finger. The same way it had moved against the most intimate part of her.
He stood up, and his hand stayed hers when she went for his belt. Instead, he pressed her to the bed with his body and scooted her up. His cock brushed against her bare pussy, and she whimpered. She needed him again.
“I’m going to fuck you. Don’t worry.”
“Who said I’m worried?” She wanted to make a joke, but the anxiety in her own voice was clear. She was ready to whine for his cock. Beg for it. Scream.
He pumped against her and sat up so he straddled her waist. Then, he took her hands in his and pinned them to the bed over her head. Her dress had ridden up on her midsection, and his erection lay against her through fine fabric. She’d never wanted a man inside her this much, and he was just sitting there watching her. Denying her.
She bucked up against him, and he had the nerve to laugh.
“Get off.” He knew she didn’t like being teased, yet he did it anyway.
“Is that an order?”
Again, she tried to throw him off with her hips, but he was too heavy. “You’ll never get off again when I’m done with you.”
“Shhhhh.” He released one of her hands and rubbed down her side. She ought to have clawed at him, but didn’t. “I just want to look at you. You know that gets me just as hot as when your hot cunt turns to honey all over my face, don’t you?”
He undid his belt with one hand, and didn’t brush her away when she helped this time. When his erection was out of his trousers, she licked her lips.
In that moment, she wanted nothing more than for him to press his cock inside her mouth and ride her face until she couldn’t think about anything else but trying not to choke on it. She wanted him to overwhelm her senses as much as he’d overwhelmed her emotions.
But he ignored her obvious invitation. “It’s embarrassing.” He fisted his cock and squeezed, not seeming embarrassed at all. “I could come in my pants watching you dance. When you’re teasing all those fucks at a bar as Carmen, I lose my fucking mind. I have to press down on my fly to keep from embarrassing myself.”
She licked her lips again. “Then don’t watch.”
He released his cock and held her jaw. His thumb probed her lips and she ran her tongue across it. It tasted salty, like him.
“Don’t you get it? I can’t not watch.”
She didn’t want him bringing all of these confusing emotions in here—in what she’d started thinking of as their bedroom. Right then, she was glad that they’d never fucked in her condo. She’d never be able to sleep there again, after this was over, if he’d done this there. They were still wearing most of their clothes, and yet she felt more naked than she ever had. More open than she’d ever wanted to be.
“Take off your shirt.” She needed to get this back to a primal base level. “I want to watch too.”
Thank God that he followed instructions. He released her other hand with a meaningful nod that meant not to grab for his cock now that he’d freed her and unbuttoned his fine, white shirt. Every button he revealed his tanned flesh, and a smattering of hair. He was like a Viking, and she truly felt conquered. She could almost picture him removing furs and ravaging a captive.
During one of the dinners that had to stop after this, he’d told her that his father was “super-fucking-Irish,” but his mother was Dutch. That must be where he got the height and the barbarian looks from. Even as she loved that she knew that about him, she worried that she would never get all the things about him out of her head. Maybe he’d moved in permanently without her knowing?
When his chest was bare, he leaned down and captured her mouth in a lazy sensual kiss. His hands roamed over her body, over and under her dress. Even though he was so hard against her that it had to be painful, he was in no rush. And even though she could kiss him for hours, she needed him inside her.
“Please, Charlie.”
He pulled back and looked at her. His face was so close that she couldn’t escape his gaze if she wanted to. If she’d been naked before, when he was holding her down, he was stripping her skin off right now. “What can I give you that you don’t already have?”
“Fuck me.” His cock twitched against her with the percussive statement, so she knew he was holding back.
“Is that what you want? You just want me to fuck you?”
He knew the truth and she was afraid that he would make her say it. The words make love to me were just behind her lips, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them. So, she nodded.
“Whatever you want.” He reached over and grabbed a condom. She knew she’d fucked up when he slapped her hands away when she tried to help him put it on. “Too fucking turned on for that.”
He settled his body over hers, and notched her entrance. Then, he pushed inside her so swiftly it took her breath away. He pushed up on his palms, taking way the friction of his chest against her, and suddenly she felt cold. She was so turned on that she couldn’t bear if he stopped, and her hips met his with every thrust.
But something was wrong. He fucked her hard and fast. When she started choking out moans, he pressed her clit hard with one thumb. Usually when they were like this, he whispered to her about how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her. This time, he pulled up her leg until it m
et her shoulder. It didn’t hurt her body when he splayed her wide open and slammed into her. Charlie being rough with her body felt good.
The look on his face, though. She feared that the hardened jaw and the dark gaze wasn’t just about how into her he was. There was something distant about the way he fucked her, even as he was deeper inside than anyone ever had been.
The sick part was that the anger may have turned him on even more. The muscles in her thighs began to twitch, heralding another orgasm. This one felt like a big wave from an offshore tropical storm. It was bearing down on her and threatening to choke the life from her.
“Please.” She didn’t know what she was asking for; she only knew she needed him there with her, and it felt like he’d moved away.
“Are you going to come?” He pressed her clit harder and she squealed as the crest of it hit her. “That’s my good girl.”
She didn’t stop coming, but her eyes snapped open as he lost himself in his own climax. His face twisted into agony as he pressed himself inside her one last time and stayed there. And the misery lingered as his orgasm ended.
Chapter 14
Charlie managed to keep himself from texting Laura for three whole days after their wedding reception. He had a good excuse—the production company needed to prep for a shoot in Chile. They left the morning after Carmen opened.
Before the party, he’d been hoping to leave the country as a married man—not just on paper, but for real. That wasn’t going to happen now. He knew it in his bones that Laura would never truly open up to him. She would let him do anything he wanted with her body. He could coax a million orgasms from her, but the only way he would ever make her cry was because he made her body feel good.
When he gave in and tapped a few words out on his phone—Lola invited me over for dinner. Is it okay if I come?—he felt like a damned chump. He was a beggar for her attention. Even though he’d told himself that he didn’t care that she’d left before he woke up the morning after the reception, that it was better that she didn’t see him as he was falling apart, it had been like a boulder sitting on his chest to find her side of the bed cold.
She’d wanted to leave so badly that she hadn’t woken him up for a ride home. Another motherfucker had seen her in that dress, just fucked and soft like morning. He couldn’t fucking stand it.
And it had been all his fault. He didn’t know why he had let her see his frustrations the way he had. It was as though he was addicted to her and she was indifferent to him.
The production budget spreadsheets in front of him blurred together. He’d been producing unscripted television for so long that he could set up a budget in his sleep. But, for the past three days, he’d been having trouble concentrating on the most basic tasks.
Maybe he should hit the gym before he headed over to Laura’s place. She hadn’t responded to his text—he jumped every time his phone lit up—but he had to see her. He’d held out for as long as he could, and he was done.
He just had to make it for another forty-five minutes or so. He could do this.
The next time his phone buzzed, he snatched it up, sure it was a text from Laura. No dice. It was an e-mail notification. The article from Ocean Drive was ready, and Phil had agreed to give them a first look after he and Laura agreed to have a photographer at his house. Charlie only had to chase the guy out of the master bedroom once.
He pulled up the article and scanned through. It was mostly about the Miami City Ballet, and he’d nearly waxed poetic about Laura and her dancing. His chest filled with pride. He didn’t even try to resist flipping through the pictures.
His wife was gorgeous. She’d worn this red dress, which was almost a longer version of her costume for the show. It skated over her curves like a lover. When he saw himself, he paused. No one looking at that picture would doubt that that man loved that woman. She was inscrutable, but he wore everything in the way he gazed at her, the way he gripped her waist. Just looking at the photos had him remembering the way she’d smelled that day.
He was in love with Laura, and he’d done nothing to stop it. The floor beneath him seemed to give way to new ground. Years and years of trying to become a responsible adult were all wasted because he’d crashed headlong into love with a woman who didn’t want him. He’d been crazy to think that they could make a real go of it. Even though his tenacity had given him a very nice life—now in a legitimate business, he couldn’t treat his personal life that way.
He couldn’t just decide he wanted to be with Laura and have her fall in love with him. Tired of looking at himself mooning over a woman who wouldn’t let herself love him back and the orgasms he could give her, he switched back to the article. About three-fourths of the way through, Phil mentioned the tapes and the aftermath. He also had the balls to mention his estrangement from his father. Most articles mentioned the former, but left out the latter. The salacious details always took precedence.
And, in the next paragraph, there was an actual quote from his father:
My son has always gone his own way. We’ve had our differences, but I’m glad to see that he’s turned his life around. Maybe he’s more like me than I ever thought—it took the love of his mother to really focus me. Perhaps his marriage—settling down—will bring him into the family fold. There’s a spot in New York for him whenever he decides he’s ready.
It was patronizing and awful, his father’s specialties, but that’s not what bothered him about the statement. None of it was true. He’d been focused for years now—on building his production company, keeping a low profile, feeling like he had something to offer. Laura had nothing to do with that. If anything, she’d knocked him off his game.
He should be travelling, scouting locations, coming up with concepts for new shows. He’d felt a modicum of peace when he was on planes and sleeping in hotels more often than not. This last couple of months with Laura were anything but settled. He’d been obsessive, jealous, and he’d smothered her.
But she couldn’t travel with him—like Carla and Jonah did. She had a life here, and maybe in New York someday soon. She might believe that she’d hit a dead end in her career that it was close to over. But, the way she’d been dancing lately, there was no way it was true.
The idea of losing her had him wanting to call his father and find out if that cryptic offer to work for him in New York was true. If it was, he could just go with Laura. He’d be miserable, not being in charge of his own life, but he could deal with it if he was with her.
She had years left. And he wanted that for her. But he needed to get back to being himself. He might not have ever completely fit the image of careless international playboy, but he had to get his feet back off the ground soon.
Falling deeper into love with Laura would get in the way of that. It was a blessing that she didn’t let him all the way in. Somewhere inside, he wanted his father’s approval. He was man enough to admit that. But, he wasn’t about to give up the life he loved for a woman who didn’t want him.
* * * *
Laura’s grandfather hadn’t said anything when she’d asked him to draw up divorce papers. Not even when she’d barely been able to get the words out, and some tears had leaked down her face. Knowing what she knew now about how his marriage to Lola had ended made her feel a modicum less of shame about asking for the divorce.
She hadn’t thought it would be so hard to do it. After all, she was the one who’d wanted the annulment in the first place. Wanted to erase even the idea that they’d ever been married at all. So, it didn’t make sense that she felt as though a knife was plunging through her skin looking at a legal document, one that would end a marriage that had barely even existed.
It didn’t help matters that she’d known she was going to have to do this as soon as she left Charlie’s house the morning after the reception. As she’d waited on his doorstep in the humid air for a car, she’d had second thoughts. She could have can
celled and crawled back into bed with him. Could have talked about what had happened the night before.
Maybe she should have opened up to him, told him why she was scared to be in love with anyone—much less a man who made her feel like she was on fire in a way nothing had in years.
Instead, she stuck to what she knew—routine, rehearsal, repeat. It felt comforting and awful all at the same time. She could push Charlie out of her mind when she was busy. But, as soon as she stopped, he was right there. And it was just another reason why they couldn’t work in the long term.
It wasn’t until she read the final version of the article in Ocean Drive that she realized the extent of Charlie’s success. In just five years, his production company had gone from nothing to supplying six different television networks with original programming.
She’d known that he’d won an Emmy with a cooking show, but she hadn’t realized that he wasn’t just the money behind that show. He was hands-on with everything he did. The people he worked with practically worshipped him. She’d thought Carla liked him because Jonah liked him. And Jonah liked him because they’d been friends for a very long time. She’d believed that her cousin had overlooked The Single Guy and the whole seedy tape thing because of their job. But it wasn’t like that. Every time she learned something new about Charlie, she felt shamed by the way she’d treated him after finding out about the marriage.
Even though the decision to end their marriage was the only one that made sense, she wasn’t sure she could do it if she just went to him alone. Lola had invited him to dinner. Her grandfather/lawyer would also be there. She was sure her grandmother was thinking it was a double date. But her family were going to be there as a safety valve to make sure she went through with it.
When she had refused to tell Charlie that she wanted more from him than sex, his hurt had shown up in his gaze. It had twisted their wild chemistry together into something almost ugly. And she wouldn’t hurt him again and again. In the back of the car leaving his house, when it was too late to turn back and crawl into bed with him, she’d realized the truth—she wasn’t just afraid of turning into her empty shell of a mother, she was actually broken. She’d practiced not feeling anything for so long that she had no choice but to reject her connection with Charlie.
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