by Anthology
“What you want is bad for you. For both of us. You have to trust me on that.”
“I can make my own decisions, and I’ve chosen us. I won’t let you end this when I know deep down you want me as much as I want you.”
Thump, thump, thump. Jesus, I can barely think. Blood rushes between my temples. I know what I have to say, but my mouth refuses to form the words. How nice that my body decides to betray me again. Just like that first mind-numbing, life-altering time.
“Jeff, this won’t work. We both know it. Last night can’t happen again. Ever.”
Pulsating beats from a popular dance song vibrate the ground under my feet. His darkened eyes spark with some combination of lust and anger. God, he’s shredding me from the inside out.
“I’m not convinced. You’ve been saying that for months and somehow still end up in my bed.” His full lips curl upward in a self-assured humorless smirk as he pulls me tightly against him, his peppermint-tinged breath whispering against my ear. “There’s a reason why people pay so much to have me in their corner, Ari. I’d think you of all people would be blissfully aware of that fact.”
The truth is, I am more aware than he knows. And therein lies my conflict.
4
CHAPTER FOUR
The bartender hands me another crystal flute, and I guzzle it, just like the four others sitting in front of me. My vision is a little fuzzy, but not enough to miss the tall, skinny blonde bitch pawing at Jeff. I narrow my eyes. Does she have to press her huge fake boobs into his chest while laughing like some ditzy teenager? I slam the delicate glass on the bar. Goddammit! I did this. Me.
Despite what I know, I can’t walk away. I did something really stupid, a livelihood-crusher. I fell in love with Jeff, crave him with every inch of my being. He’s my crack. One taste, and I was never the same again. But the withdrawal is agonizing, and I’ve crumbled a few times too many. Each time, I swore it would be the last, just like I did last night.
“Looks like you could use another.” A husky voice startles me out of my salacious thoughts.
A tall, handsome guy grins at me and sticks out a hand. “Tanner Matthews.”
I force a smile. “Nice to meet you, Tanner. And yes-s, you’re right. I can definitely use another.” Shit, I just slurred. Not good. I grip the edge of the bar. My eyes scour the crowd, hoping for another glimpse of Jeff because not even Adonis himself could pry my fixation off that juicy forbidden fruit. Have I mentioned how very screwed I am?
Tanner waves his hand at the bartender and orders another round for us. He turns back to me, his eyes raking over my body, which admittedly, is a bit too tightly crammed into this mermaid-style thing Eva has us all wearing. Blech.
He hands me a full flute. “So, you’re alone. That’s a shame, but maybe we can do something about that.”
Mid-gulp and woozy as I am, the innuendo impales me like a hot poker. “What makes-s you think I want to do anything about it?”
He leans in closer, and the stale scent of scotch has me clutching my midsection. “I’ve been to enough weddings to know how things work. Single, hot girls revved up on booze and starry-eyed under the magical spell of love and romance, all with the intent of getting laid.”
I choke on my next attempt to gulp the remaining champagne and bubbles spew from my nose. Damn, that burns.
“Aha. So I caught you.” Tanner’s gaze morphs into something decidedly more like a leer. “You can be honest. That’s why you were hanging out here by yourself. I can read the signs.” He sweeps a hand through his longish blond hair, and the dimples that should have made him irresistible were now just placeholders for the areas where I wanted to land my punches.
This guy’s slime is just oozing from every crevice. I’d need a scalding hot shower, bleach, and a wire brush to scrub off the lingering stink of douchebag. I narrow my eyes, trying to kill him with my mind, but darn it, he’s still wearing that shit-eating grin. Could he be any more disgusting and lewd? “I’m pretty s-sure you can’t, s-since the one plastered on my forehead clearly s-says Fuck Off.”
He chuckles. Chuckles? Like this is supposed to be some twisted game of cat and mouse? “I’m a glutton for punishment, I guess. I like a challenge.”
I clench my fingers around the glass, pretending the stem is his neck. I may have some deep-rooted rage issues to work on, but they can wait until tomorrow. “Well, s-since you 100% make me want to throw up in my mouth, I’d have to s-say I don’t agree.”
He leans closer, the scent of spice swirling around my nostrils. Yep, I’m definitely about to hurl. Any person who can take the delicious essence of Prada and turn it into something so noxious is one to be avoided at all costs.
“I’m a fun guy, I promise. Come on, let’s go find a coat closet, and I’ll prove it to you.”
My mouth drops open. I’ll admit it, being propositioned by a guy whom I’ve told, in no uncertain terms, that he makes me physically ill is foreign to me. “I think you’ve already demonstrated everything I need to know.”
“It’s too bad you feel that way. There are a lot of things I’d like to learn about you.” He tugs at one of the loose curls skimming my shoulder. I recoil as if his fingers were lit matches.
“Oh yeah? Here’s a tip. If I tell you to fuck off, it doesn’t mean try harder, dickhead.”
Tanner’s face hardens, his green eyes spitting fire. What a dumbass. Pretty but so fucking dense. I turn, ready to flounce away in a sea of pink tulle, but my body doesn’t obey. Damned spiky heel is caught in the hem of my gown. The delicate fabric tears, the sound making me cringe. I stumble into a waiter carrying a tray of champagne. Well, that was what he was carrying before the crystal flutes rocket into the air, contents splashing all over me – my hair, my face, my dress. Mother eff! Cold liquid seeps into the thin fabric, and I let out a yelp right before my ass plants on the dark wine-colored carpet. The corners of Tanner’s lips curl upward into a wicked smirk. Karma. Shit.
One quick peek is all I need to confirm that my rock-hard nipples in my soaking wet dress are on display to anyone casting a curious glance. I fling my arm over my chest, blocking the pervert’s view. Tanner takes a step closer, his eyes glued to my chest. “I think I’ve just learned something new. And me likey.” He holds out a hand.
I glare at the offending appendage. As if I wanted that slime ball to touch me. Bad enough his eyes had already assaulted me one too many times. “I wouldn’t touch that hand if you—“
Strong arms loop under my arms, lifting me. I kick my leg out to free it from the bottom of my gown. I spin around, Jeff’s blue eyes rooting me to the spot. I allow myself to get yanked into the depths, happily held captive, praying that nobody tries to rescue me, but it only lasts for one fleeting second until he averts his gaze. It’s abrupt, and my body instantly feels the loss of his attention. “Were you just going to stand there and watch?” He growls at Tanner.
“Oh my God, Ari! Are you okay?” Eva rushes over to me. “What happened?”
“I tripped trying to get away from this sleaze ball,” I slur, pointing to Tanner. His previously tanned face now looks a little bit paler.
Eva narrows her eyes at him. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Oh, um, I’m, uh, one of your husband’s fraternity brothers.” He sticks out his hand. “Tanner.”
“Ohh, the fraternity.” She cocks an eyebrow. “Interesting, you know, since my husband went to Fordham and they don’t have fraternities there.”
I can see Tanner’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat. Busted! “You’re a fucking wedding crasher?” I screech. I lunge for him, but Jeff holds me back. Even after all the booze I’ve consumed, desire zips through me like a bolt of electricity.
“N-no, I just…” He backs away, holding up his hands. “Listen, I don’t want any trouble.”
“I think I might want some.” Jeff steps closer toward him.
“I-I think this is a big misunderstanding.” Tanner looks around and laughs. “You know what? I�
��m at the wrong reception.”
Jeff grasps his arm and pulls him toward the exit. “I’ll make sure you find your way to the right one.”
Eva’s lips curl into a smile. Her eyes sparkle with something I don’t recognize. Or maybe it’s because I’ve downed about five flutes of champagne in the past ten minutes and can’t really decipher what the hell the look is trying to tell me. “Thanks, Jeff. I’ll take her back to the suite to get cleaned up.”
I wave my hands at her. “S-stop. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. This-s is-s your wedding.”
“Ari, give me a break. You’re a disaster! Exactly how much have you had to drink?”
A clipped voice invades my eardrums as my mother Angeline sidles toward us. Disapproval drips from her collagen-injected lips, but her face remains impassive, courtesy of all the Botox. She links her arm with mine and casts a wistful glance at Jeff. What the fuck was that? “Such a delicious specimen of a man. I certainly hope he won’t be gone too long.“
“Seriously, Mom?” Eva rolls her eyes as we walk out of the reception.
My mouth is bone-dry and all I can taste is the heavy cloud of perfume shadowing my mother’s every move.
“Did Jeff bring a date? I didn’t notice anyone with him. Perhaps I’ll invite him back to my suite after the reception.” Angeline lets out a throaty laugh and my hands itch at my sides. Yes, I want to bitch-slap my mother, but in my defense, if you knew her like I do, you’d encourage me instead of gasping your disapproval.
“Mom, give it a rest.” Eva pushes open the door to the bridal suite.
“What? You think he’s too young for me? Would that embarrass you, Eva?” Angeline settles onto the plush sofa and pulls out a tube of lip gloss from her beaded clutch bag.
“Yes, it would. It’s bad enough that Dad’s latest girlfriend just graduated college, for chrissakes.” Eva scurries into the bathroom and returns with a hair dryer. She plugs it in and hands it to me. “Get to work. Turkey’s done right now, but the dryer will take care of that little situation.”
I collapse into a chair and point the hot air directly at my chest as my mother continues her tirade against my Dad’s date, Boobie. I mean, Bobbi.
“And I’m sure he paid for the double-Ds she’s got stuffed into that dress, if you can even call it that. She’s completely over processed and can probably park cars in her vagina.”
“Ahh! Mom, please! I don’t need to hear that word from you, okay?” Eva flashes me a grin as she pushes our mother out the door. “Ari, you’re good. Don’t be too long. You have to catch the bouquet.”
What a joke. I’m not the girl who catches bouquets at weddings. I’m the one who runs from them, and Eva knows it. I just can’t figure out why she keeps rejecting my self-imposed fate. I let out a deflated breath, eyeing my reflection in the mirror. Maybe it’s because I keep resisting it myself.
A few minutes later, the door creaks open and my eyes meet his in the mirror. I choke on a gasp and leap to my feet, nearly lassoing my feet with the extra-long cord. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“I told you this isn’t over.”
I slam the dryer on the table. “You don’t get it! This was never supposed to happen! If I let things go any further…”
“You’ll actually be happy. We’ll both be happy. How can that be bad?”
If he only knew. But he’s coming closer each day to finding out just how horrible this can become, and all my attempts to derail the inevitable have gone up in flames, singeing me in the process. I’m out of options and almost out of time.
He pulls me against his muscular chest, arms enveloping me into a tight embrace. His fingers are busy working the zipper of my dress until it pools at my ankles, leaving me naked, save for an almost nonexistent G-string.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Ari? Do you want to feel my hard dick throbbing inside you again? Last night wasn’t enough for you, was it, baby? Tell me to fuck you, and I’ll make sure you never try to leave again.”
No, no, no!
His fingers loop into the waistband of the scrap of fabric still remaining on my body and with a flick, they’re ripped from my body, torn from the place that aches for his taste and his touch. A place inflamed with a passion only he can quell.
Oh, screw it.
Yes, yes, yes!
I yank off his jacket and pull off his bow tie. God, he’d looked so hot in that tux. But now I want him naked, pressed against me, feeling his throbbing dick rocket me to a universe where I don’t care about tomorrow or every day afterward. I fumble with his belt buckle and let out a loud gasp when his thick fingers plunge into my slick opening. Two and then three slide inside of me, rubbing against my swollen clit. They tease and tantalize, the motions increasing in intensity along with my breathing, and dammit, I can’t focus on anything but the euphoria seeping into every cell, demanding control of my entire being. “Oh God, Jeff.” I pant. “Grab my ass and fuck me now.”
He unfastens his pants and shoves them to his knees along with his boxer briefs. I press my hands into the small of his back, my thighs quivering when his perfect pink cock grazes the delicate skin between them. I need him. Now.
We tumble onto the couch, me on my back, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. My body beckons - aching, dripping, desperate. My breaths are sharp and shallow, my heart rate off the charts. Hooded sapphire eyes penetrate my soul, momentarily stripping me of my protests and my fears, telling me things I claim I don’t want to hear. I’m a liar. But he doesn’t know that. There are so many things he doesn’t know.
But none of that matters in this moment. The second his lips crash against mine, I’m done. Over. Ruined for anyone else.
I drink him in, his whiskey-tinged breath sweet against my tongue. The coiling warmth of his mouth surges through me, heating my core, igniting the flames of passion deep within my being. His hair is so thick and soft, my fingers tangle in it, pulling and tugging the dark strands with silent pleas for more.
He grips my ass and pushes into me, stretching my walls with his thickness. He lets out a deep groan, stopping once he is deep inside, and I can feel his cock pulsate as my body tightens around him. His grasp on my ass loosens and his fingers graze the tight rim of muscle between my cheeks. Ripples of pleasure crash over me when he plunges a finger into my heat. It burns, but God, it feels fucking amazing. I shudder and clench down as he finger-fucks me and drives his cock deeper. He thrusts harder and harder and my hips buck against him, begging for everything he has to give. Tingling sensations erupt into a full-on explosion, torching every nerve ending and setting my insides ablaze, all-consuming flames that can never be extinguished, no matter how much I try.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the orgasm rips through me, blinding white lights dancing behind my lids, illuminating me with the knowledge that I, as well as my heart, already possesses.
I love this man, and I can’t be without him. And now I’m really fucked, figuratively and literally.
A wicked grin captures his lips, tugging them upward. “So, did I do my job? Are you leaving?”
My chest tightens, but I force a breathless giggle and push him off me. “No, but you are, before someone comes in here. You didn’t even lock the door!”
“I have nothing to hide.” The pads of his fingertips stroke the side of my cheek.
Unlike me.
He pulls me off the couch, fingers dancing up and down my torso. I shiver against him, tilting my head up for one more kiss, one more reason to torture myself. “Don’t be long. It’s almost time to cut the cake.”
“Okay.” I grab a few tissues to clean myself before shimmying back into my dress. I watch him button his shirt, his chest muscles flexing under the starched white fabric. His hair is mussed, and his eyes, which are focused squarely on me, are glittering with desire waiting to be unleashed.
“That was only a taste, Ari.” He shrugs on his jacket. “Just wait until the main course.”
“I can’t wait. I’m
starving.” I smirk, tossing him the bow tie. “Now, go!”
A pang assaults my heart as the door slams shut. It’s the feeling I get every time I leave his arms. The one tormenting me now because I know his arms are not going to be available for much longer. And even if they are, they certainly won’t want me in them.
I grab my makeup bag and survey my appearance in the mirror. I stick a few bobby pins into my formerly-tight chignon and sweep some lip gloss across my swollen lips. The door clicks open, and I smile at my reflection. “Couldn’t wait for the main course, huh?” I spin around and let out a yelp. “Eva!”
“Expecting someone else?”
“Um, no, I just…I was only…my makeup…uh…” Words tumble around in my mouth, getting all jumbled until I just stop speaking. I hold up the tube, hoping it will serve as some explanation.
Eva sidles toward me, a knowing smile plastered across her shiny pink lips. She plucks the tube from my fingers and folds her arms. “Ari, my dear sweet sister, tell me something. Exactly how long have you been fucking my father-in-law?”
Oh, Christ.
Yeah, and guess what? That’s not even the worst part.
The End
ABOUT KRISTEN LUCIANI
Kristen Luciani is a bestselling romance author and momtrepreneur with a penchant for stilettos, Silicon Valley, plunging necklines and grapefruit martinis. As a deep-rooted romantic who prefers juicy drama to fill the lives of anyone other than her, she tried her hand at creating a world of enchantment, sensuality, and intrigue, finally uncovering her true passion. No pun intended…
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