Two for Dinner

by Rachel A. Smith

  “Yeah, except you didn’t come home, and you weren’t in bed next to me when I woke up the next morning.” Clayton’s glaring at me as if I was the one in the wrong.

  Why I think it’s unbelievable he would go back to the apartment and fall asleep as if nothing was wrong while I cried and poured my heartache out to Allison is beyond me. He’s a colossal asshole. I slide my hands under my thighs so I can’t punch him. Inhaling deeply, I count to ten again before I continue to regurgitate his ridiculous story. “You got ready for our wedding and went to the church, expecting me to show up.”

  “Yeah.” He says it like duh.

  I clench my hands. I won’t stoop to his level. I’m not. “And so . . . when I didn’t appear, you realized I was upset.”

  Clayton grins and nods like a stupid bobblehead. He is a moron.

  No. I’m the idiot for not seeing him for his true colors. But not anymore. “Then when you couldn’t find me, you used your company’s resources to illegally track me down. What exactly were you hoping to achieve?”

  “Irene. We both know I’m the only man who will put up with your weird hermit ways. I’m still willing to marry you.”

  Chef Eric, who stood right behind me and hadn’t moved or uttered a sound the entire time, lets out a low growl. He objected to the idea of me being in the same room as Clayton and insisted I sit at least an arm-and-a-half’s length away from my ex. I’m not sure if his rule is for my benefit or for Clayton’s safety. It also put him a good five feet away from Clayton, which meant he can’t lay a hand on the man he clearly isn’t happy with.

  “Fine. I get it. You still want to get married. But what makes you think I’ll marry you?”

  He laughs and then cocks his head to one side. “Like you’re going to find someone better than me.” He laughs again, and every ounce of patience I have goes up in smoke.

  “I’m not going to ask this time. Tell me the real reason you are here.”

  A shadow falls over me. I turn back to see Damien standing next to Chef Eric. I didn’t even hear him enter the pool house. A rumpled and very disgruntled Damien is here. My heart thumps in my chest.

  Damien doesn’t even glance my way. He’s simply staring at Clayton. The muscles in his jaw clench, then he visibly relaxes. I picture a lion about to pounce on his prey.

  “Yes, Montgomery, tell her the real reason you trespassed onto my island.” Damien’s voice is deadly smooth.

  “What other reason is there but the fact that I’m the only one willing to marry her?” Clayton is still smiling like a fool.

  Damien puts out his arm to prevent Michael from moving from his post. My ex doesn’t stand a chance against these three, yet he sits there smirking as if he’s in no imminent danger.

  “Let’s set the record straight. You’re not the only one who would be willing to marry Irene.” Finally, Damien breaks eye contact with Clayton. He cocks his head to the side and gives me a wink. Oh, I know what that means—he’s going to fuck me until dawn. My stomach flips, and I realize not once had Clayton ever made any of my internal organs do somersaults. Definitely not my heart.

  Damien turns his attention back to Clayton. “I won’t let you continue to lie to her. Tell her the truth, or I will.”

  I get out of my chair and stand in front of Damien. “You would marry me?”

  He lowers his gaze to meet mine and nods. I’m thrown into my fantasy world where it’s just the two of us. I wrap my arms around his waist and press my wet cheek to his chest. His heart races. I want to believe it’s because I have the same effect on him as he has on me. He runs his fingers through the ends of my hair. The slight tug brings me back to reality.

  Damien’s chest vibrates. “Of course, and if I hadn’t called dibs, I’m pretty sure Eric and Michael would, too. Even though they won’t ever get the chance, they’re both half in love with you.”

  I lift my head and roll up on my tiptoes to meet him halfway for a kiss.

  Clayton’s chair crashes to the floor. “What the fuck, Crestwater!”

  A whoosh of air tickles my neck. I break the kiss and turn just as Michael’s fist connects with Clayton’s jaw. Chef Eric pulls Michael back. “He’s not worth it, man.”

  Michael shakes off his hand. “Aww. Fine.” The burly driver turns to me and asks, “You okay?”

  I smile at him. “You’re lucky you got a punch in. Chef Eric won’t let me get close enough to get one in.”

  Clayton sits up and spits blood from his mouth. “You’re joking, right? You wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  With my back flush against Damien’s chest, his arm is snaked around my waist, securing me in place. I glare at my ex. “I might not hurt an innocent fly, but I’d love to wring your neck. Now tell me the truth.”

  The shock on Clayton’s face is priceless. His focus shifts to the three men and then back to me. “A year ago, your mom found out about my financial situation. She offered to pay me fifteen million to propose and marry you.”

  I flinch back. “What!?” Clayton’s words sting as they register in my brain. My mom was going to pay the bastard to marry me. The buzzing in my ears isn’t a good sign. I take a couple of quick breaths and sink back into Damien’s hold. I’d rather not know, but I ask anyway. “Did Melissa know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you’ve been cheating the entire three years we were together.”

  Clayton nodded. “I was on a date with Melissa at some event when your mom approached and asked if I’d be interested in taking you out on a blind date. Melissa understood in order to save our company, I had to marry you.”

  Damien can’t hold me. I fly at Clayton, and my fist grazes him high across the cheek. My aim is a little off. I meant to hit him closer to the ear to do some real damage, but I’ve never attacked someone before. Clayton falls back and rolls onto his side. “Fuck, Irene. I’m going to have a black eye.”

  Damien picks me up and pulls me back to whisper in my ear, “He really isn’t worth it.”

  All the angry energy leaves me as I turn in Damien’s arms. Any feelings I had for Clayton are gone. And I’m not going to let his words or actions hurt me ever again. I blink back the tears. Nodding, I give him a silent promise not to induce any further physical harm to Clayton as I step out of his embrace.

  Clayton was and is a snake. The bastard is probably planning on pressing charges or suing me or worse, Damien. Since he needs money, I wouldn’t put it past Clayton to make up a story to sue or blackmail him.

  I take a moment to gather my thoughts. Michael hauls Clayton up and plonks him back in the chair. “Tell her the rest.”

  “He doesn’t have to. I can guess there was some caveat or clause also requiring him to get me pregnant.” It’s no surprise. My mom’s plans never had anything to do with me. They were all about obtaining grandchildren to show off and manipulate. “Were you planning on divorcing me once you got the money?”

  Clayton’s grin gives him away. There’s more. He puffs out his chest. “And give up fifteen mil for each kid? No way. I signed up for the long haul, baby.”

  Heat radiates from Damien, reminding me how close he is to me. He isn’t smothering me or talking on my behalf. He’s letting me handle this. If I wasn’t already one-hundred percent in love with him before, I certainly would be now.

  “How generous of my mom to make such promises. It’s no wonder your business is failing. If you had done your due diligence, you would know that her finances are all tied up. None of it is liquid.”

  Clayton’s face turns an unnatural mauve color. “You’re lying. What do you know about finances, anyway?”

  Michael slaps him on the back. “You really are stupid.”

  He and Chef Eric flank Clayton and haul him to his feet. Pushed towards the door, Clayton spins and says, “I’ll tell the press everything.”

  “Go ahead. Tell them you cheated on me and you were only going to marry me to bail out your failing company. I don’t give a shit what you or the press say about me.”<
br />
  “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t cry every time they call you fat or the eccentric hermit. I’ve seen it many times these past three years. If you don’t marry me, I’ll make sure you will be ruined and no parent will ever think of buying your books for their kids.”

  Clayton’s rant is my last straw. I march up to him and lower my voice so only he can hear. “If you try to ruin me, I’ll alert the authorities to look into missing pink forms. You know—the ones you shredded at home.”

  I’m not exactly sure what information the papers contain, but I’m guessing it could cause Clayton a ton of trouble. He always snuck the boxes of papers into his home office on the thirteenth of every month like clockwork and spent hours getting rid of them. I always pretended not to notice his dark, frustrated scowl whenever he emerged from the room. I learned very early on in our relationship to ignore or at least feign obliviousness to his mood swings. Not that it really matters now, but I wonder what my mom paid him to be with me for the two years prior to proposing.

  Clayton lunges at me, but both Michael and Chef Eric have a solid grip on his upper arms and hold him in place. He glares at me. “Fine. I won’t go to the press.”

  My shoulders relax as his outline gets smaller and smaller.

  Michael’s booming voice floats through the air. He’s complaining that Damien made him skip dinner and he’s starving. Chef Eric laughs and says they will grab something in St. Thomas. The pair converse as if they are simply going to throw out the trash. Very apropos.

  Damien is still scowling at the trio as they fade into the darkness.

  I cup his cheek and smile up at him. “I guess it’s dinner for two tonight.”

  Chapter 20

  Damien

  All that is swirling in my brain is how fucking lucky I am to have found Irene. I look down at her, gathering her up in my arms. “You are an amazing woman, Miss Irene Gilliard.”

  She runs her hand along the outside of my arm until it slips into mine. “I am, aren’t I?”

  Her reply is still too tentative for my liking. “What did you say to Montgomery to change his mind?”

  “I told him I knew about the documents he shredded every month.” She looks at my chest. “I have no idea what information the pink sheets of paper contain, but even I could tell he was up to something illegal.”

  “Sweetheart.” I wait for her to look up at me. “Those were . . .” I see the strain of the day on her face, and my chest constricts. “We can talk about it later. Let’s go get you some dinner.”

  “Do you know how to cook?”

  “I’ll have you know, my sister crowned me the king of PB&J sandwiches.” The faint smile on Irene’s lips makes me want to kiss her. If I kiss her, it won’t stop there. Instead, I squeeze her hand and lead her back to the house. She’s had one hell of a day and needs support and comfort, not for me to act like a hormonal teen who only has sex on the mind.

  Walking through the terrace doors, Irene pulls me in the opposite direction of the kitchen, towards her guest room. “Not interested in one of my prize-winning PB&Js?”

  “Later.” She opens the door.

  Journals and papers with sketches are laid out on the desk, and some of her clothes are draped over the chair. The room’s not exactly messy, just lived in. It no longer feels like a vacation rental, but more like a home. This is what I want. Irene is what I need. “I missed you.”

  She walks over to the edge of the bed and shimmies out of her jeans before pulling her T-shirt over her head. “Really?” She cocks her head to the side. Her honey-blonde hair flows over her shoulder, the ends resting on the gentle slope of her breast.

  Like a hound dog, I pant a little at the sight of her. Her nipples are hard and pressed against her lace bra. I’m dying to rip the flimsy matching thong off her and run my finger along her slit to see if she’s already wet for me. Fuck, I need her so badly.

  When I’m an arm’s length away, she grabs my shirt and pulls me close. “I missed you too.” She works on my shirt buttons while I fumble with my belt and unbutton my jeans. I lower my head to kiss her. Slipping my tongue between her lips, I savor the taste of her. Irene seriously makes me feel like an inexperienced teen all over again, too eager to sink my cock into her. Years of mastering the art of foreplay are gone as soon as she runs her hands down my body to firmly cup my aching dick. Breathless, I step back, stripping off my shirt and stepping out of my jeans. Irene climbs onto the bed on her hands and knees. I slap her ass. She lets out a moan of desire, and I rub my palm over the pink mark I made.

  Irene looks over her shoulder. “Promise not to take it easy or go slow.”

  “I promise.” I’ll give her whatever she needs.

  She moves to the center of the bed and turns to face me as I kneel beside her. I can see her mind working over the possibilities, and when her irises dilate, I’m eager to find out what she has decided.

  Irene doesn’t make me wait long. “Lie down.”

  I follow her orders and rest my head on the pillows. She straddles me over my stomach in reverse cowgirl position. It’s not one of my favorites since I can’t see her gorgeous face when she comes, but it’s one of hers. She slides her hands under my briefs and shimmies them down past my knees. I groan as her tits graze my thighs, and I bend one knee to help her remove my briefs entirely. Shifting back, Irene looks back at me and licks her lips. Fuck, she’s going to suck my dick. It’s going to take every shred of willpower not to come in her mouth. Her oral skills have improved drastically since the first night she took my cock into her mouth.

  Licking the length of my dick, Irene hovers over the tip. “I’ve been dreaming about this for days.”

  And I’ve been dreaming of her coming on my face. Fair is fair. I grab her hips and position her dripping wet pussy over my face. I stick out my tongue to run it along her slit. Her sharp intake of breath stops her progress, but I drive my tongue between her folds and suck hard on her clit. She responds by taking me deep. Her tongue flattens against my cock until the tip of me hits the back of her throat. After not having her for days, I’m already about to release my load. Her lips tighten around me, and she bobs up and down. If I concentrate on eating her pussy, maybe I might last a few more minutes. Except, Irene drops to her elbows, taking me deeper.

  I can’t take it. Sliding my hand along her side, I slip it between us to pinch her nipple. She moans and rises back to place her weight on her palms. I reach over and pinch her other nipple, and her pussy clenches around my tongue. I palm one of her tits. Her hips gyrate, and I still her with my fingers digging into the soft round flesh of her ass. She drops to her elbows once more, trapping my hand between us. She takes as much of me in her mouth as she can and then gives her head a shake. I can feel the cum building in my sac, and I pull my hand free to press on the back of her head. Her jaw slackens, and she slides farther down. I suck harder on her clit, and when she moans, the vibration on my dick nearly sends me over the edge. I wiggle my hips, and she releases me with a pop.

  Sliding my thumb into her, she pushes back and rocks a little. “Damien, you’re going to make me come.”

  Thank the heavens. I withdraw my thumb and finger her deep, simultaneously flicking my tongue over her clit. Irene’s muscles cinch around my digits as she orgasms, and she sucks me off until I too find my release.

  Rolling off me, Irene flops onto her back. “That was so much better than my dreams.”

  Her words make my dick harden again. I reach for a condom and roll it on. I’m not done. I’m going to make her come again and again. Crawling on top of her, she instinctively spreads her legs for me. I can’t wait. Sinking deep into her, the idea of me taking her slow vanishes.

  She draws her knees up to her chest and mouths fuck me.

  I love it when my sweet Irene talks dirty. Driving my cock into her deep, I circle her clit with my thumb. When she whimpers, I increase my thrusts until she screams my favorite two words, I’m coming, over and over.

  Spent, I cover
her with my sweaty body, too tired to deal with the condom right away. She trails her hand up and down my back and places a kiss on my shoulder. “Thank you for coming.”

  Mind deprived of oxygen, I tense. Is she thanking me for coming in her mouth and down her throat, or for returning to the island?

  As if she read my mind, she says, “Both.”

  I love this woman. Kissing her soundly, I roll to lie next to her and tug the damn condom off. As soon as I regain all my senses, I’m going to propose.

  Chapter 21

  Irene

  I glance at the clock beside the bed. It’s two in the morning, and my stomach growls. Damien lies flat on his stomach, and I’d love nothing more than to run my hands all over his glorious naked body. But we need food. I slip out of bed and put on my robe.

  Voices rumble from the direction of the kitchen. Chef Eric and Michael must have returned. I tie the sash of my robe and join them.

  Chef Eric chuckles as he spies me approaching and turns to open the fridge. Over his shoulder, he asks, “Hungry?”

  “Starving.” I smile and then notice Michael sporting a bruise on his lower jaw. “Did Clayton hit you?”

  “Montgomery? Nah. He’s not fast enough to land a hand on me.” Michael lifts his chin and says, “Eric is responsible.”

  Chef Eric grins as he busily chops up onions, bell peppers, and an array of items I guess are going into an omelet since he also has a dozen eggs out.

  “Why did you hit Michael?”

  “For taking his sweet time getting here and making you suffer hours of agony in the company of your dickhead of an ex.” He places the knife down on the cutting board and wipes his hands on a kitchen towel before opening the fridge again. “If I cook bacon, you reckon Damien will wake up?”

  “I’m already awake,” Damien says as he wraps his arms around my waist and nuzzles the crook of my neck.