by J. C. Grant
Before I could protest, he gripped my wrist, gently pulling me with him until we were standing. His warm hands slid along my shoulders, fingers splayed. His touch was both loving and territorial as he moved behind me, carefully unbuttoning my dress. The way he undressed me with so much care still moved me. The gown slid down, pooling around my thighs in a fluffy stack. The night air wrapped around me as I took David's outstretched hand and stepped over the pile of silk. His searing gaze met mine, intense, heated and triumphant. Leaning down, he kissed me, his demanding tongue taking a slow, lush lick before directing me back to the bench.
“On your knees and elbows.”
My breathing sped up at his rough command.
I crawled onto the cushy, white, linen bench, obeying, presenting myself to him. Ass up, head down—I felt so exposed.
So vulnerable.
Anticipation and arousal had me strung tight as he moved behind me. My breathing turned labored as he left me waiting, spread open with my ass and pussy on display. The tension built, anticipation slowly turning to self-consciousness. Unable to bear it, I turned, looking over my shoulder.
Warmth bloomed inside me, hot and fierce.
His dark gaze was possessive and hungry as he stared at my exposed sex. All my insecurities vanished and my hips tilted, giving him a better view as I turned back to my hands.
He groaned, a deep hungry, tortured sound that made my pussy throb.
Seconds later goosebumps raced over my skin as his tongue trailed from my lower back, down through the sensitive flesh of my crack. I stopped breathing as he teased my puckered hole, before slowly sliding through my folds, teasing my clit.
I heard the whisper of fabric hit the ground. His body moved behind me, his warm thighs on the back of mine. His heavy cock rubbed along the cleft of my ass, slowly. I tensed when I felt the wide head nudge my tight opening. Once. Twice.
My heart raced at the explicit threat.
A wave of relief engulfed me when he slid between my folds, pushing in.
“Just relax. Let me take care of you.” His hand slid up my back, forcing me down until my head was resting on my arms. Before I could get comfortable, his hand was on my breast. Tugging and rolling my sensitive nipple. My breath hitched at the sharp sensation arrowing to my clit. He had me panting, desperate, thrusting back into him in under a minute.
“David.” My voice was barely a whisper.
“I'm gonna take care of you,” he promised, meaning so much more than sex.
His hand moved, gripping my hip as he pulled out. He thrust in, angling his cock, hitting my G-spot. He did it over and over, forcing whimpered cries from my throat.
“David,” I begged, my core coiling painfully tight.
“Let me do all the work,” he coaxed as his hand moved, his fingers fanning across my butt, his wet thumb massaging over my puckered flesh.
“David,” I whispered, trying to accept the new stimulation.
“I got you.” His pace changed, fucking me with long slow strokes.
I focused on his tight sac nudging my clit with each skillful lunge, until conflicting stimulus merged into one blinding need to be fucked. My hips arched back into his touch. The act felt taboo/vulgar for our wedding night, making me hot all over, not caring anymore which hole he fucked or with what. My hips pushed back again and his thumb slipped in, past the tight ring of muscle, a low moan escaping him as he pressed deep, deeper than ever before.
I stilled. The feeling of fullness was shockingly intense in this position.
“Relax. I'm gonna take such good care of you. I promise.” At his tone, my body softened, relaxing, becoming pliant under his command.
His thumb withdrew and slid in deeper. I was shocked by how good it felt. My body sagged, opening up completely.
He groaned, “Fuck, you feel good.”
Looking over my shoulder again, my core pulsed furiously. He was lost in lust and need. His lips parted, his eyes focused, watching as he gently fucked both my holes. His broad chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths.
“More,” I moaned.
His expression hardened, strained as he gave me what I wanted. The nerve endings in the tender tissues exploded, the sensation was overwhelming as the pleasure wound tighter. Without warning, the tension snapped and I was pulsing around his cock and thumb, my body helplessly jerking as a devastating orgasm pounded through me.
“Yeah, sweet girl. Just like that,” he praised with underlying condescension. Still working my body relentlessly. “Just. Like. That.”
*****
I felt the weight of David's thick arm wrapped around my waist first, then his hand on my breast when I woke. Slowly, I carefully disentangled myself and sat up, reaching across David for my phone. My body protested, sore from the workout David gave me the night before. He swore he didn't take Viagra, but he came five times in three hours.
Three hours of sex.
Sweet. Dominate. Rough. Slow. Hard.
We covered the basics.
“What're you doing?” he rasped sleepily.
“Making a transfer to my checking account.”
He let out a groan as he arched his back, stretching. “I put a hundred grand in there on Tuesday. You need more?”
“You what?” I sat back heavily.
“I signed an agreement to take care of you. I thought you understood, I meant immediately.” He yawned.
“We never discussed an amount.”
“I didn't know how much you needed. If you need more, I'll call my bank now.”
“No. No. I was... Never mind.”
My eyes caught on the titanium and platinum band on his finger. The black diamonds glinted in the morning light. My body warmed at the sight. Softening.
“What's wrong with my gorgeous wife?” he asked, huskily.
“Nothing. I just—that’s more than I expected.” I had money, but I wasn’t used to his level of money.
“I told you, I’m gonna spoil you. Get used to it.” His hand gripped mine, slowly pulling until I was lying beside him. He growled, wrapping his arms around me. “I want to stay in bed with you all day, but we have to get up and eat with your mom before she leaves.”
“What?” I was alarmed he knew something about my mom that I didn't. Again. “Why is she leaving so soon?”
“She insisted. Said we needed to honeymoon alone.”
“It's only twenty-four hours. This isn't our honeymoon is it?”
“Fuck, I hope not.” He nuzzled into my neck. His large hand palmed my breast, gently squeezing.
“I thought we had to go downstairs?”
“We do. Just getting a quick fix,” he declared huskily.
Twenty-minutes later I was pulling on a pair of sleep shorts and one of David's tees while he slipped on a pair of lounge pants. He grabbed my phone off the nightstand, shoving it in his pocket, then ushered me downstairs.
“Where's Evelyn?” David asked when we found Byron in the kitchen alone.
“Ms. James left two-hours ago. She got an earlier flight out,” Byron responded.
I looked at David.
He shrugged, just as confused as I was. Pulling my phone out, he handed it to me wordlessly. I took it and wandered toward the living room.
Mom: I'm so happy for you, baby. I
want you to enjoy some
alone time with David. Despite
what you think, it's important
right now.
6:45 AM
I shouldn't have been surprised or disappointed, but I was. Not that I would ever tell her, not that I'd ever told her when her actions hurt me. I looked up from my phone to see David watching me closely.
“She wants us to have time alone.” I turned, setting the phone on the table, taking the moment to school my expression. “You hungry?”
“She didn't do it to upset you, sweetheart,” he said as I walked past him. His thick arm caught me around the waist, pulling me to him. His chest pressed to my back, his lips to the crown o
f my head, as he whispered, “She loves you.”
I took a slow, deep breath and swallowed.
His tenderness had me on the verge of tears. He opened me up to emotions I hadn't felt in decades, some were too painful to deal with.
I hate this.
“Let's eat.”
He let me pull away with a sighed, “Okay.”
I was immediately disappointed again as I stood on the patio, looking across the gorgeous landscape. All the evidence of the night’s previous events were gone, except for the table and large wedding arch. At least something was still there.
Some proof.
David set a coffee in front of me just as I sat down at the table. A few minutes later, Byron brought out a bread dish. I didn't know what it was, but it tasted divine. We ate in silence as I tried to block out the pain I felt, locking it away with the rest. David let me. He seemed to understand I was working through something.
We spent most of the day playing in the pool—our frolicking only turning into sex once, giving away how much my mother's actions had affected me. David was keenly aware. Late in the afternoon, he took me back to Cartier to have some links removed from the watch for me and bought me the ceramic, diamond-paved LθVE bracelet. It was absurd how much better it made me feel—getting something ridiculously pretty and expensive. I realized I could use material things to dull the emotional pain, too.
Not healthy in the slightest, but better than the other things I used to numb the pain.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After a seven-and-a-half-hour flight and an hour in traffic, we arrived back at the house. Even though I was nervous about what might happen with the media, I was excited to be starting our lives as a married couple.
A married couple.
It was still not quite real to me. I was a wife. I didn't think we would get to the married couple part for years with how little we knew about each other.
As soon as I got inside and put my stuff down, I was wired. With this new surge of energy, I didn't think I could tolerate sitting around his photoshoot. And I had a waxing appointment I was not canceling.
“Babe, what time is your shoot?” I asked as he brought the bags in.
“We gotta leave here at nine. Go hop in the shower. I'll make us something to eat,” he instructed, carrying our bags to the bedroom.
I followed after him, going into our bathroom. Turning to shut the door, my gaze locked on his. I was riveted as his eyebrows pulled together, making that sexy W. He looked confused and a bit angry as I pushed the door shut. Angry was sexy as hell on that man.
I quickly stripped and got in the shower, knowing he was not pleased with my desire for privacy.
As I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I heard a knock on the bathroom door.
“David?” There was a part of me that didn't believe it was him, it was so out of character.
“Breakfast is ready.” His voice was muffled from the other side of the door.
“Okay, I'll be out in a second.”
Knowing he was not happy, I quickly finished up and grabbed a towel, drying off as I went to the closet, hurriedly getting dressed. I made my way to the kitchen, unsure of what I would find.
David was sitting at the kitchen island, his broad back to me. My coffee and breakfast was waiting on me. I felt odd approaching him, almost like we were fighting or something.
“Thank you,” I said quietly as I sat down next to him. I watched his profile as he nodded, but said nothing as he ate—he hadn't bothered to wait for me. We were silent for several long moments.
“Everything okay?” he asked between bites, looking at his plate.
“Yeah—yes,” I corrected, wanting to sound sure to comfort him.
“Why did you wanna be alone?”
“To think... about how to tell you I don't want to go to the shoot today,” I rushed out.
He took a long, slow breath. Then asked, “Why?”
“I just don't feel like it. I'm kinda wound up I guess. Or nervous?” I wasn't really sure why; I just knew it didn't feel right today. “I don't know.”
“It won't be long.” He softly tried to persuade me, making me feel bad.
“I can just wait here for you. Give me time to catch up on some stuff.”
“What's really going on? You can catch up on stuff at the studio. You have your phone, laptop...” Unintentionally, he reminded me he still had my phone.
“David, please... And can I have my phone back?”
He stood and pulled it out of his pocket, pausing, looking at the screen before he set it down.
“Mathew texted you while we were gone,” he muttered, then left the room.
I watched as he walked away, his back tense. I couldn't tell if we were fighting or what had just happened.
Checking the text from Mathew, I felt worse.
His blatant request for David not to be there irritated me—much like everything Mathew did lately. Seemed like ‘I need to talk to you alone’ was what a friend would say. Knowing David had read it on our wedding day and didn't make a big deal out of it... I felt like he was getting the short end of the stick. I would freak if he was getting texts like that from a female.
Hoping he would be quick and come back in, I ate slowly. After finishing my food and coffee with no sign of him, I gave in, going back to the bedroom. The bathroom door was open and I could hear the water hitting his hard body. Walking over, standing in the open doorway, I watched as the muscles shifted in his broad back, his ass flexing as water trailed over the contours of his golden skin.
“I have a waxing appointment today.” My voice echoed in the marble bathroom.
Eventually he asked, “What time?”
“One.”
“Where?” Then he looked over his shoulder at me and added, “Guy or a girl?”
On second thought, maybe we have even shares of the stick.
I couldn't stop my eye roll at his last question. “Santa Monica. A girl.”
“How long does it take?” he asked, turning to face me, making a show of running soap over the defined muscles of his abs down to his thighs.
“Thirty minutes,” I rasped, my body responding to the visual. “At most. I've been going to her since I moved to LA,” I rambled, fixated by his hardening cock.
“What're you getting waxed?” His voice was a sexy purr.
The question sobered me.
“David.” I couldn't hide my annoyance.
“It can't be your pussy—it's smooth.” When I didn't respond, he huffed out a sighed, “Fine. But you gotta get used to not having any privacy.” He paused. “Meet me at the gym after? I should be done at two. A good hard workout together?”
“Okay, that sounds good.” I suddenly felt awkward standing there, blatantly staring at his body.
Either fuck him or leave, stop standing here like a fangirl.
“I'm going to check my e-mail.” I quickly exited and grabbed my laptop and flopped on the bed.
I was still checking my e-mail when David emerged from the bathroom. Naked. He swaggered into the closet to get dressed. I didn't want to turn into his puppet, but his body and that magic cock...
A minute later, he stated, “I need your phone.”
“It's in the kitchen,” I said, never looking away from my screen.
David disappeared from my periphery, walking back in a few short minutes later.
“Here.” He laid my phone next to me. “I'm leaving... You sure you don't want to follow me. Hang out with me until your appointment?”
“It's five hours. We can survive without each other for five hours, babe.”
“Why?” He sounded offended.
“Go. I'll see you soon... Space apart is healthy.”
“Then it's sure as fuck not for us,” he muttered. I felt him watching me, hoping I would cave. Then he sighed and pressed a sweet kiss to my lips, followed by a firm press of his lips to my forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you,” I said, finally glanc
ing up at him, catching a glimpse of disappointment before he turned away.
I watched him leave. The thin material of his white tee and thin sweats gave me tempting outlines of those sinuous muscles. Shifting. Rolling.
Just watching him walk away had the first tingles of arousal sparking through me.
Mmm. I won the hot husband lottery.
Fifteen minutes later, I sat in bed transferring all the photos from my phone to my laptop, feeling guilty for my casual dismissal of his needs, when my phone rang.
“Are you even out of the driveway yet,” I greeted teasingly.
“Stay in the house.” David’s hard voice startled me. “A guy will be there in ten minutes. His name is Fergus. Let him in.”
“What’s going on? I’m going to my appointment—”
“Stay in the fucking house, Austin.” David cut me off. “I’ll call you back.”
His tone instantly had me on edge, he wasn’t yelling at me personally, he seemed frustrated or scared, which scared the hell out of me.
Two minutes later my phone rang.
“Fergus is there. He just texted. He's going to check the property, then inside the house.”
The call ended before I could respond or ask what the fuck was going on. It took a minute to sink in he hung up on me, but when it did irrational anger flared up. Before I could process it, i.e. call him back, I heard a chime echoing through the house.
Getting up, I tried to shove my irritation aside as I made my way to the oversized glass front door. There was a man on the other side, with an overgrown buzz cut and a short beard, talking on the phone. He was shorter than David and thin in comparison. He wore a black suit that emphasized his fair complexion.
He looked really familiar.
“Mrs. Taylor?” His muffled voice came through the thick double-paned glass, breaking me from trying to place where I recognized him from.
“Austin,” I corrected, loudly.
“Mr. Taylor sent me to check the property and to check on you. I'm Fergus,” he elaborated.
Is that Irish? Or Scottish?
I was terrible with identifying accents.
“Yeah, he told me.” I opened the door and waited for him to end his call. “Hi.”