by Cynthia Dane
He growled against her skin. “What assistant? I only see my wonderful fiancée.”
“If you weren’t acting like a horny nut in front of all these nice people I’ve never met before, I would think you were blowing smoke up my ass.”
“I could blow a few things up there, sure.”
Jasmine scoffed, smacking Ethan on his arm before blushing into her champagne glass. “You are ornery today. Did you take a Viagra before we left the house?”
“Please.” Both of his hands disappeared beneath the tablecloth. “Like I need any of that.”
Jasmine brushed her hand against his stomach, almost afraid to feel an erection there. I could not take care of one right now. Not with all these people here… watching her out of the corner of their eyes. Yet Ethan did not sport any new friends. He was probably halfway to starting, though. “You’re going to wear me out before the wedding, aren’t you?”
“That may or may not be the plan.”
Jasmine wished she could say she was surprised, but she hardly was. How could she be surprised at this point? Feeling Ethan’s hand between her legs while a party went on around them was par for the course… and nobody was playing golf today.
“Ethan…” she said through her teeth. “Watch it.”
“Nobody can see.” His fingers grazed her thigh. Sparks – no, chills – made Jasmine jerk against the table. “I promise. Nobody gives a shit that I’m about to finger you.”
Had she heard that right? Nah. Definitely hadn’t heard him right. Ethan was crazy sometimes, especially when he was hornier than a frat guy, but he wasn’t that crazy. Not crazy enough to do what basically amounted to sex in public. That was one of the few things he was not into. It was even written into the contract he presented her when they first started dating. Ethan liked exhibitionism as much as he liked stubbing his toe. All right, not that bad… but… What in the world was he doing sticking his hand up her skirt?
“Watch it,” she muttered. “Just because they don’t care doesn’t mean I don’t.”
Ethan was practically on top of her as he whispered deep into her ear. “What if I told you that I really, really want to do it?”
“Why?”
He chuckled. “Do I need a reason other than I want to? Pour yourself another drink if it makes you feel better.”
That was the only warning Jasmine got before his fingers pushed between her thighs and rubbed against her slit.
Her hand shook on the champagne bottle a waiter left behind. Careful. Don’t give yourself away by spilling it everywhere and drawing unwanted attention. Easier said than done. Jasmine may no longer be under the insatiable spell of that blasted lube, but she was still feeling some of its remnants days later. Every time Ethan touched her ever since, Jasmine felt crazy jolts all through her body that would make most women pass out. The only reason she was able to handle it was because she had been dating Ethan for this long. Putting up with endless pleasure came with the bundle of dating a billionaire like him.
Healthy appetites, and all.
“Either you like it or you’re a dirty liar, Miss Bliss,” Ethan said, using the same stern voice he once commanded when he was her boss. “Because things are definitely heating up between these lovely legs of yours.”
“Because someone is fingering me,” she muttered back. “Or at least about to, I imagine.”
“Tell me more about what you imagine.”
A dexterous man like him had no trouble getting beneath her underwear. The fact Jasmine slightly opened her legs and leaned against the table so his hand was completely covered helped. “You don’t usually give me time, sir.” Two could play at this game. “I don’t get a second to think about what I want you to do before you’re fucking me until stars are in my eyes.”
“Good. I knew we were on the same page.”
“I don’t think you heard what I said, sir.”
“Oh, I heard you.” There was no more hair to bypass. Just the warmth of her skin as one finger dipped between her folds and explored the tight confines of her body. “I just don’t care.”
The world disappeared into a blur. Jasmine pretended to watch the party guests come and go, some of them laughing, others having heated discussions, and everyone getting loose on champagne and whatever they got at the open bar. The only ones who had any idea about what was going on beneath that table were Ethan and Jasmine, both of whom probably weren’t paying attention to a damn thing going on around them.
“Now tell me,” Jasmine said sweetly, ignoring the snap of pleasure going up her spine. Ethan had found her clit – finally – after all that sexy fumbling that would make any girl hot even if he didn’t make the final destination. “What is this supposed to accomplish? Do I get to actually come, or are you doing this for your own amusement?”
“It could be both. Why? Do you want to come already? Right here? At this table? In front of all these stuck-up buffoons?”
Adrienne sashayed by, personal fucktoy – excuse me, assistant – hot on her heels. She accepted a kiss on the hand from a man Jasmine didn’t recognize. She did, however, hear the laughter echoing in her direction. Ethan used to be in a serious relationship with her. He asked her to marry him, and I’m the one he’s fingering at my engagement party. Jasmine couldn’t contain the smirk taking over her face. Nor could she contain the rising need to climax as Ethan did nothing more than control her pleasure right there in her seat.
“You’re going to come for me after all.” Ethan’s free hand stole some of her champagne. “All prim and proper in front of the country club. I want to feel you shudder against my hand. I want to hear your little whimpers in your throat. You’re going to do both without showing it on your face. You understand?”
Jasmine sucked in her breath, hands steadying against the table as Ethan’s finger rubbed her clit faster, harder. “What if I can’t do that?” It took everything she had to not betray herself right there. “You’re driving a hard bargain over here.”
“You will. I have faith in you. Now, come.”
In the years leading up to meeting Ethan, Jasmine never once thought she would be able to orgasm on command. Who could seriously do that? That was something that came out of porn movies and crazy fantasies. In real life? Men were lucky if they could get a woman off at all.
Then she met Ethan, and discovered what it meant to be completely at the whim of a single man. A man who knew exactly what he was doing.
“Fuck,” she muttered, fingers squeezing the edge of the table. This wasn’t her usual idea of a quickie, and yet here she was, being fingered to orgasm at her engagement party. At least it’s with my fiancé? She was probably living up to someone’s relationship goals. “You’re an asshole. I love you, but you’re an asshole.”
Jasmine let go. Her inhibitions, her grip on reality, and the table all left her reach as she sank beneath the weight of orgasm. It wasn’t the hardest climax she ever experienced. Not by a longshot. I’m okay with that. Don’t want to scream in front of all these nice people. Instead, she silently rode out an orgasm that popped within her, at the hand of a master who wanted nothing more than to say, “I made her come at our party.”
“You naughty girl,” he muttered.
Jasmine pushed against the back of her seat as soon as the orgasm subsided. Ethan withdrew his hand and pulled a napkin off the table. “You’re going to be the death of me one day,” Jasmine said through gritted teeth. “Not today, but one day.”
Ethan excused himself to go wash up in the nearest men’s room. Jasmine quickly fixed her skirt, and in time, for Adrienne sauntered up with not a single hair out of place.
“We’re about to play croquet. I know Ethan hates the blasted game, so I’m not even going to bother asking him, but if you would like to join, it would be nice for one of you to partake at your own party.”
Jasmine nodded, grateful to get away from the table before Ethan could come back and bend her over it. The way he’s been acting lately, I wouldn’t be surprised.
“You’ll have to refresh me on the rules,” she said, clearing her throat multiple times as she walked beside Adrienne. “Can’t say I ever knew anything about it until I started dating Ethan.”
“Oh, that’s typical. We’re going to play in teams, anyway, and your partner is very adept at the game.” She scoffed. “Junior champion when he was young, if you can believe it.”
“I can believe anything these days.”
Adrienne stopped at the edge of the course, where a sizable group dressed in slacks, suits, and wide-brimmed hats waited. Everyone was paired off in male-female teams, and since Ethan wouldn’t go near a mallet if someone paid him another billion dollars, that left Jasmine with the one single man at the event.
“Always a pleasure,” Ian Mathers said, taking a generous practice swing with a red-lined mallet. “Even more so, considering I get to call the bride my partner for an hour.”
Jasmine accepted a shorter mallet adjusted for her height. It had purple lines, befitting her dress. “I hear you’re a junior champion, Mr. Mathers.”
“Please, call me Ian.” He bent down and picked a yellow ball out of a box. “Does a man still get to call himself junior champion at thirty?”
The teams were lining themselves up behind the starting stake. “I will take what I can get,” Jasmine said. She picked a light blue ball before joining the pack. She also shirked her heels, preferring to keep her bare feet on the dry, cool grass beneath. Most of the women wearing stilettos followed suit. “I am awful at this game. I’ve only played once before, and my hand-eye-coordination isn’t the best.”
They watched as Adrienne started the game off, taking a sizable whack of her black ball. It shot out of the hoop and tumbled down the first hill – a little too strongly, for it blew past the first hoop. She groaned, and everyone politely clapped for her strength, at least. “I do too many bicep curls,” she lamented.
Ian turned to Jasmine, his light gray trousers clashing with his red mallet. “The worst that could happen is you being the opposite of that… and we can work with that.”
“It’s all right if we don’t win.”
“On the contrary, you’re the bride of this party. They gave you me as your handicap. You must win, Jasmine. It’s a matter of course.”
“And your girlfriend? Where is she?”
He nodded to the balcony, where a head of blond glanced at them in stoic boredom. Guess she’s not the jealous type. Jasmine didn’t want to imagine what a jealous Kathryn Alison was like – and if Jasmine were the target of such jealousy? Shudder. No one fucked with the richest woman in town. Well, save for perhaps the man she called her boyfriend. Who took another practice swing and then encouraged Jasmine to try.
“At this rate we’ll be the last to go,” she said, watching everyone else go before them.
“You want to go last in this game. That way you can hit everyone else’s balls on the way by.” The way he enunciated balls was both amusing and childish. I expect nothing less from a self-professed flirt and playboy. Nevertheless, Jasmine did not expect him to step behind her and put his arms around her torso.
“Excuse me, but you want to use this kind of form when you tap.” Jasmine’s face turned an embarrassing shade of red as a man who was not her boyfriend held her against his body and manipulated hers until, well, her ass was pointed in an awkward direction. Namely at his crotch.
Half of the other croquet players, including Adrienne, stared at them. Jasmine laughed it off. What else could she do, especially when Ian followed through on his insistence and showed her how to properly swing the mallet?
Her laughter was ill-timed. The moment the first blundering guffaw spilled out, she had two sets of fiery eyes on her. Kathryn, hanging over the edge of the country club balcony and promising death to anyone who came near her.
And Ethan, returned from the restroom and standing not too far behind Kathryn. He crossed his arms and stared at them, displeased.
Oh, fuck. Jasmine was still as a statue when Ian stepped away as if he had done nothing out of the ordinary. Oh fuck, oh fuck, I smell like his cologne. Sweet cologne. A far cry from the scent Ethan wore. Oh fuck, I smell like another man. Right after mine fingered me. At my engagement party. To him.
She flashed Ethan a smile and waved at him. Surely, nothing was wrong here.
“Hey, you gonna take your turn?” Ian called to her.
They did not win the croquet match, thanks to Jasmine, whose form remained absolute shit throughout the game. Thankfully, Ian did not offer to help her sort out her stance again, content to wipe the landscaped floor with every other player there. I have one of the best croquet players ever on my team, and I can’t even help us win. Story of Jasmine’s life.
Did not help that she kept glancing at Ethan, who perched at the edge of the balcony and watched her with great interest.
She dreaded going back up there. While Kathryn spared her a single look before going back to her drink, Ethan was less forgiving.
“Did you have fun down there?” No way was he amused. Not about to rip her any new holes in her body, but definitely not impressed.
“Um, well…”
He snatched her wrist and held her close. Nobody paid them any mind. “I’ve got a few words to exchange with you, Miss Bliss. Care to join me inside?”
Did she have a choice?
Ethan put a firm hand on the small of her back and directed her into the clubhouse. A million words sprang to Jasmine’s tongue, but she bit them all back, waiting until they were in a private billiard room with the door latched behind them to speak.
“I wasn’t flirting,” she announced, doing her best to sound confident. Maybe if she kept her shoulders back and her voice straight she could convince Ethan that no relationship foul play was afoot. “He offered to show me how to play better… not that it helped, as you probably saw.” She opened her bag and looked for anything to amuse herself with. Phone? Makeup?
Fiancé’s hands gripping her hips as he grinded his half-erection against her ass?
“I leave you alone for five minutes…” His voice stole her heart and attempted to abscond with it elsewhere, like a rogue plucking her off the side of the road and taking her back to his hidden camp in the woods. What is he going to do with me there? Defile me? A woman could hope. “And you’re already handing yourself over on a pretty purple platter to another man.”
“I didn’t… he didn’t…”
Ethan covered her mouth with his hand and pushed forward. Jasmine gasped into his palm, eyes closing as she felt him grind harder against her. “I must not have done a good enough job at the table. I thought we had fun. You certainly were wet enough by the time you were through.”
This was an Ethan she thought had gone into hibernation. Possessive. Because he owns me. For six months I had to do absolutely anything he wanted so I could get my money. Not only did she get more money than she bargained for, but she got the boyfriend too. Now, that man she originally fell in love with was back – with a vengeance. Jasmine whimpered into his hand. What is he going to do to me? She was both excited... and a little wary. If Ethan was actually angry at her, this would take a turn she didn’t want. Namely, she might be out on her ass instead of having this man she loved pressed against it.
“Maybe you need to be reminded of who it is you’re marrying. Don’t you know? Not any woman gets to marry me.” His hand jerked up her leg, squeezing her outer thigh as his arm pushed her skirt out of the way. “I don’t want to marry any woman. I need someone who is going to obey me when necessary. Someone who knows that I’m her master. Now…” he slowly lowered his hand, “are you going to obey me? Do you understand that I’m the only man who gets to touch you – in any way?”
“Yes…” The more his dominant energy enveloped her, the needier Jasmine became. Even she didn’t know that it could be so easy to feel like this after what had happened earlier. What did happen earlier? Ethan, asserting himself all over the place. Reawakening what made those early days of their
relationship so great. Jasmine swallowed, her fiancé’s hand pushing into the bust of her dress and groping her breast. He used to pay me to do this. In the beginning, Jasmine went along with it. For the money. In time, however, she realized how much she enjoyed and got off on Ethan’s alpha tendencies. He wanted to be the dominant man in all areas. In business. In social situations. In sex. It was all that mattered in his head. Both of them.
“What was that?” Her skirt was up over her ass, his bulge shoving against her, hard, unyielding. “I couldn’t hear you, my flower.”
Growls like that could be bottled up and sold as an aphrodisiac. “Yes!”
“Come over here.” He grabbed her arms and pulled her to the wall. Ethan picked a spot not decorated with framed photos and maps of the globe. An otherwise nondescript wall, where a man with something to prove could pin his fiancée and fuck her.
“Ethan!”
“You will call me sir, thank you.” He tore her underwear, eliciting a gasp of utmost shock that this was happening so quickly. “Or Master. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I don’t want you to forget who I am to you.” He laughed, filling Jasmine with anticipation. The way he easily lifted her legs around him, holding her against the wall with nothing more than his bare strength, was more intoxicating than his scent overwhelming her. There was a distinct scent, after all. There was the usual aftershave and cologne, mixed with the occasional end of the day sweat that marked Ethan as the man she cozied up to for comfort. Then there was the primal, almost earthy scent he exuded when he was hard and ready to pound her against the bed, the couch, the desk, the wall. He was nothing but that scent now. Jasmine would do well to remember who he was. Now. Five minutes from now.
“I would never… sir.”
“Be quiet.”
Jasmine clamped her mouth shut, but it fell right back open again, thanks to the sudden pleasure tearing through her as Ethan rubbed the head of his cock against her spread slit.
“Fuck, you’re so wet. Must be because of me.”