The Wedding Rescue, Book Five (An Alpha Billionaire Club BBW Romance)

by Wilder, Alexa

  This was it. This was what Dylan meant by trust. And I’d almost walked away from it. The last smack was harder than the rest, a flare of pain and pleasure so acute, it drove me to the edge of orgasm. Writhing over his legs, I heard myself moaning and gasping. He stroked his hand over my red ass with reverent care.

  “I think a little more and you’ll come for me,” he said. I quivered under his soothing touch. I would. I knew I would. “Maybe next time we’ll try that. I bet if I clamped these luscious nipples and spanked you, you’d come so fast your head would be spinning.”

  I shivered, knowing he was right. I would. I was close as it was, teetering on the edge of release, my body both wound tight and floating in space. Feeling myself move, I realized Dylan was turning me, lifting me into his arms. He carried me through the penthouse and a few seconds later he lay me down in the bed, positioning my bandaged arm out to the side. The soft sheets were cool on my heated backside, a momentary distraction before his body came over mine, his hard cock pressing into me in a long, slow thrust that stretched me open.

  Just minutes ago, I’d wanted to run from the way Dylan overwhelmed me. Now it was everything, his body over me, his cock inside me. Everything I could touch, hear, smell, was all Dylan. I raised my legs around his hips, clamping my thighs tight, rocking up into him. If he’d gone a little faster, I would have come right away. As it was, I didn’t last more than a few minutes, driving my fingernails into his shoulders as I came. Dylan kept going in the same steady pace, his mouth on mine as pleasure rose again.

  Each time my hips rolled down, the tender, pink skin on my ass burned. Dylan’s sheets couldn’t have been any softer, but my ass was too tender from the spanking. The sparks of pain made the pleasure sharper, more acute. The second orgasm grew slowly, the stretch of Dylan’s cock inside me a fraction better each time he filled me, until I was again on the edge of coming. This time, he was with me. Tearing his mouth from mine, he called out my name as he came, his pounding cock taking me along with him.

  Before I could get my bearings, he was up, disappearing into the bathroom. He came out a few seconds later holding a wet washcloth. Careful of my arm, Dylan grabbed my legs and slid me to the side of the bed, spreading my legs wide. He couldn’t possibly be ready again. I could barely move.

  The warm, damp cloth pressed between my legs, stroking my still sensitive flesh. I tried to slam my legs closed, the intimacy too much. I already felt vulnerable. Dylan blocked me with his body. Before I could form a verbal protest, he was done. Tossing the washcloth back onto the bathroom floor, he picked me up and set me on my feet.

  “Breakfast should be waiting for us. Do you want a robe?” His green eyes twinkled at the question. Did he think I was going to say no? Maybe I’d eat breakfast naked one of these days, but not today.

  “Please.” He settled a thin, white, french terry robe around my shoulders. I wondered what else I had hanging in that closet. I hoped I’d have time to explore it later. Maybe when I found out what ‘later’ would bring.

  3

  Leigha

  A wheeled room service cart waited just outside the front door of the penthouse. Dylan rolled it in to the table where we’d eaten the day before. I took a seat, the smell of coffee and food reminding me I was hungry. Dylan put the covered plates, cups, and coffee on the table, then pushed away the cart. Before I realized what he was up to, he’d picked me up out of my seat, sat down in his own, and arranged me in his lap.

  “This is better,” he said into my ear. I squirmed on his lap, feeling weird about sitting there to eat. Wasn’t I too heavy? Putting a voice to my thoughts, I said,

  “I’ll crush your legs. I can sit in my own seat.” His arm tightened around my waist.

  “No fucking way. You feel perfect, and you can eat right here.”

  Hmmph. I made a rude sound in my throat but gave up on sitting in the other seat when he lifted a bite of omelet to my mouth. Ham, cheddar cheese, and rich, creamy eggs. Yum. The other plate had French toast with home fries. Double yum. I let Dylan feed me for a few minutes, unasked questions simmering in my mind. I was learning that I was more likely to get what I wanted if I let Dylan have his way, at least at first. Besides, I was starving.

  The eggs were mostly gone when I finally put up my hand to stop a loaded fork. “I’m full, for now. I want some coffee and I want to talk about the video.”

  Dylan put the fork back on the plate and poured me a cup of coffee, adding a splash of cream, exactly the way I liked it. He didn’t say anything until I had the cup to my lips and was taking the first sip.

  “Axel got the video. His guy followed Steven from the Delecta to his hotel and grabbed him. Axel and his team went through everything. It’s wiped it from every source.”

  “Did Steven send it out?” I asked. I guessed the answer was no since Dylan was so calm. But I’d feel better if I heard it straight out.

  “No. He had it backed up on a cloud server, but he left tracks everywhere. Axel followed his steps personally and verified the video was gone. They took his laptop and his phone and scared the shit out of him.”

  “And then?” I asked. I’d only seen Axel twice, but his foreboding expression at the hospital was enough for me to know I never wanted Axel to try to scare the shit out of me.

  “Then they let him go,” Dylan said, suddenly not meeting my eyes. He covered by pulling the French toast closer and cutting it into bite sized pieces with the side of his fork.

  “They let him go?” I asked, putting down my coffee. “Why didn’t Axel have him arrested? Because they had to break into his hotel room and then destroyed evidence?”

  Dylan cleared his throat. “Not exactly. I think you should go in and press charges later today. But when Axel found out who Steven owed money, he decided he’d let things play out instead of calling the cops.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. The night before I’d been in shock. Not physically, but mentally. My only focus had been on stopping Steven from sending out that video. I hadn’t exactly been evaluating the finer points of the situation. Now that I was safe from Steven and the video was erased, my brain was kicking into gear. If I hadn’t had the threat of the video hanging over my head, I would have reported Steven to the police. So why hadn’t Axel done that as soon as he’d made sure the video wouldn’t go out? Dylan’s answer wasn’t reassuring.

  “He hurt you, Leigha. He deserves to pay. Axel saw you in the hospital. We think the same way and he didn’t even have to ask me. When Steven admitted he owed Sergey Tsepov money, Axel decided to let Tsepov handle the justice part.”

  “Who is Sergey Tsepov? What will he do to Steven?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

  “Russian mob,” Dylan said, shortly, still not meeting my eyes. “And I don’t know what Tsepov will do to him. Nothing good.”

  “Dylan-” I cut myself off. I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “What?” he asked, finally looking at me, his eyes blazing. “The police would throw Steven in jail and maybe he’d do some time. After seeing you getting sewn back together, Axel assumed I wouldn’t want to wait that long for payback. He was right.”

  “But-”

  “But what, Leigha? Are you trying to protect him?”

  “No.” Everything in me revolted at the idea of protecting Steven. “No, I’m not.”

  “Then what?” Dylan asked, his eyes searching my face.

  “I don’t know,” I said. I didn’t. It’s not like Dylan had sent this Russian guy after Steven. Owing money to the Russian mob was Steven’s mistake. Axel and Dylan just hadn’t gotten him out of it by turning him in to the police. Still… “Will they kill him?”

  Dylan shrugged, looking unconcerned. “I doubt it. But I’m not in on the specifics of how the Russian mob handles delinquent loans.” He must have seen the doubt in my face, because he went on, “Axel wouldn’t have let them have him if he thought they’d kill him, sweetheart.”

  “So Steven’s with the mob?�
�� I asked. I had a hard time picturing it. I didn’t know anything about the mob, Russian or otherwise, but I couldn’t imagine Steven, average, normal looking Steven, a prisoner of the mob. “What happened?” Dylan sighed.

  “You’re not going to let go of this until you know everything, are you? You can’t just trust that I’ve got it under control?”

  “Are you serious?” Dylan raised an eyebrow at me in answer. “I trust you. As far as I can trust anyone I’ve only known a few days, I do trust you. But this is my life. Steven stole from me. He attacked me. I know you want to make this easy for me, but I need to know what’s going on. I’m never going to be the kind of woman who wants to hand over all her problems for someone else to solve. If that’s what you want -”

  “It’s not.” We glared at each other. Then Dylan sighed again. “It’s not. I know I have a habit of wanting to be in control. You’re going to have to deal with that. But I can work on not taking over.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll consider it my job to keep you from thinking you can take over the world.”

  “No. You can consider it your job to figure out a way to put up with me while I take over the world.”

  “I can figure out how to put up with you trying to take over,” I shot back, “Just don’t try to shut me out of my own life.”

  “So I shouldn’t tell you what Axel found out about your new boss?” I stiffened in Dylan’s lap. I’d forgotten about mentioning my boss’s name the first night we’d met.

  “Don’t do anything to my boss. I like my job.”

  “Even if you’re working for a guy who’s had three sexual harassment suits filed against him in the past five years? All dropped, and the women involved aren’t talking.”

  “Why?”

  “My guess is money or threats. Maybe both. But I’ve seen this guy’s picture and money seems more likely.”

  I couldn’t say I was surprised. My old boss had been great. He’d had high expectations, and he worked my department hard, but he’d been my first real mentor out of college. His replacement was slimy, way too touchy, and despite that, not threatening enough to get an angry woman to drop a lawsuit.

  “What a creep,” I said, reaching for my abandoned coffee cup.

  “Do you want me to get him fired?” Dylan asked, casually. I choked on my sip of coffee. Could he do that?

  “You can’t just get him fired!”

  “Because you think it’s wrong or because you don’t think I could do it?”

  “Both,” I sputtered. “Don’t get him fired.”

  “So you do think I could do it,” he said, grinning at me.

  “I don’t want to find out. I can handle this,” I said.

  “I don’t like you working for a man like that.”

  “Tough,” I said, my mind racing. “He hasn’t actually done anything inappropriate. If he does, I’ll let you know.”

  “Will you?” he asked. I sank back against him, relaxing into his hard chest, my half full coffee cradled in one hand.

  “I will,” I said. “I promise. I don’t want to be groped at work. If he steps out of line, I’ll tell you. But until then, stay out of it.”

  Dylan grunted in response and stabbed a piece of French toast with his fork. I hoped it was for him because I was stuffed. I hadn’t missed that he’d changed the subject earlier. I still wanted to know what had happened to Steven. After fending off the French toast, I said, “So, are you going to tell me what happened to Steven? How did Axel know the Russian guy caught up with him?”

  “You really won’t let this go?”

  “Nope.”

  “Fine,” Dylan said. “Axel’s guy sat on the hotel after they dealt with Steven. About an hour after Axel left, Steven came out, got in your car and drove to an empty parking lot behind a salvage yard. Axel’s guy watched to see what was going to happen.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “And two guys who work for Tsepov showed up. Steven tried to give them your car as part of the payment. They beat on him for a while, then took him and your car somewhere.”

  “So they have my car?” That sucked. I needed my car.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Dylan said. “I’m getting you another one.”

  “What?” I would have screeched it, but I was laughing at the same time. Dylan was nuts. Even if this was the beginning of a relationship instead of a fling, which I wasn’t sure it was, he couldn’t go around spending all this money on me. Ignoring both my protest and my giggles, he turned his head to kiss my temple.

  “That car wasn’t you.”

  “It was practical. Efficient. I’m practical and efficient.”

  “You make yourself sound boring,” Dylan said. This time, he was the one laughing.

  “I am boring.”

  “Trust me. You’re not boring. And you might be practical and efficient, but you’re also gorgeous, clever, fun, and unbelievably sexy. Not a woman who should be driving a beige sedan.”

  “You’re insane,” I said. He didn’t answer. Not in words. Instead, he took the mug of coffee from my hands, set it on the table, and kissed me. I didn’t even try to resist. Since the moment I’d met Dylan, I’d been overwhelmed, confused, and undeniably drawn to him. My analytical brain always wanted an answer for everything, but the rest of me wasn’t worried about the details anymore. I wanted Dylan. I wanted this; his mouth on mine, and his strong hands pulling me close.

  4

  Leigha

  I shifted to face him and kissed him back, burying my hands in his thick hair. We’d had so many different kisses. Rushed kisses. Demanding kisses. Hungry kisses. This kiss was slow. Easy. As if we had all the time in the world. And maybe we did. I was the one who kept thinking about the expiration date on this arrangement. Was it time to let go and just enjoy what we had? I moved again, bracing a foot on the floor so I could turn and straddle Dylan. I was tired of worrying about what all of this meant. For once, I was going to relax and enjoy.

  I settled onto his lap, my robe parting in the front, exposing my breasts. Dylan’s hands found them immediately, his fingers stroking and twisting my nipples, sending sparks of arousal straight between my legs. We’d had sex an hour before, and I was ready again. So was he. His thick cock rose up, only the thin cotton of his boxers between us. I pushed into him, his groan of pleasure making me even hotter. It gave me a rush knowing that I could do this to him. That Dylan Kane was this hard for me.

  Breaking our kiss, he tipped me back, supporting my weight as he dropped his mouth to my breast. Suddenly, at the sucking heat, the tease of his tongue, I was no longer willing to take my time.

  I gasped for breath and ground my pussy down onto his hard length. With one hand, I groped for the opening in his boxers. If I could just drag them down a little bit, he’d be mine. Realizing what I was up to, he grabbed my wrist and tucked my arm gently behind my back, careful of my stitches even in the midst of our rising passion.

  “Not yet,” he said, his lips moving against my sensitive nipple in a caress. “I’ve been wondering if you’re one of those women who can come from having her nipples sucked. Now I want to find out.”

  My pussy heated at the thought. I hadn’t even known that was possible, but if he thought it was, I was willing to give it a try. Arching my back a little more, I nudged his lips with one nipple. Dylan gave it a hard, long suck, the pressure transforming into sharp need. I squirmed against him, unable to stay still as he moved from one breast to the other.

  “I wish I had clamps for these,” Dylan said, pinching both nipples at the same time.

  I looked at the hard, deep pink tips caught by his fingers. I’d never worn nipple clamps, but I wished he had some too. If they felt anywhere near as good as his fingers, I’d love them. The spanking had opened up a whole new world. I’d never imagined pain could bring so much pleasure. Dylan’s mouth returned to my breast, his lips drawing hard, his fingers working my other nipple with a squeezing pressure that might have hurt if I hadn’t been so
turned on.

  My nipples had a direct line to my clit, each pinch and suck arrowing between my legs as if Dylan was touching me there and not solely focused on my sensitized breasts. I writhed against him, my empty pussy clenching, desperate for his cock. It was building, an orgasm unlike any I’d had before. From a distance, I heard my moans rise. The scrape of Dylan’s teeth dragged a gasp from my throat.

  Beside us, Dylan’s phone vibrated and beeped, clattering against the wood. We ignored it, too lost in desire to care that someone was calling. Whispering my name, Dylan switched sides, my wet nipple beading even tighter with cold once the warmth of his mouth was gone. Again, the phone rang, buzzing and beeping in insistent tones. A niggle of worry penetrated my lust soaked brain. The third time the phone came to life, Dylan leaned back with a curse. Picking up the sleek, black phone, he barked,

  “What?” I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but I sobered immediately as Dylan went still beneath me. He murmured, “You’re sure. Okay. Yeah. We’re on our way. Thanks. See you there.”

  Moving with deliberate care, he set the phone down on the table and met my eyes with a weighty gaze.

  “Leigha, we have to go.” He stood, lifting me gently before setting me on my feet.

  “What’s wrong? Is it my Mom?” I couldn’t imagine what else could have made him shift so quickly from passion to concern. If it had been the video, he would have been angry. There was some anger simmering in his green eyes, but mostly he looked worried.

  “No, not your Mom.” With one hand on my arm, he ushered me to the bedroom. “We need to get dressed.” I dug in my heels.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Get dressed and I’ll tell you in the car.”

  I thought about arguing, but his careful, quiet manner had me freaked out. Standing in front of the closet, I reached for a sundress. Dylan stopped my hand and pushed the hanger with the dress aside, grabbing a pair of jeans instead. I took them and fished around in my underwear drawer for panties.