Ut-oh. Was he tapping into the fact that I was poor and not a part of his world? “An air of mystery is nice though, isn’t it?”
He smiled, and again, while it was lovely, it still didn’t quite light up all of his face. “Whatever it is. I like it. It’s more intoxicating than this drink.” He leaned closer to me, pressing a soft kiss on my bare shoulder. It was the gentlest, sweetest, sexiest thing that had ever happened to me.
“I want to devour you,” he said as his lips brushed my skin.
I wasn’t a prude, but I wasn’t one to go around having sex with men I’d only just met. Even so, I understood what he was saying. I wanted to devour him too. I wanted him to devour me. He’d said he wasn’t a one-night stand sort of guy and while that was nice to hear, I wasn’t going to put stock in his words. My mama didn’t raise any dummy. So while I was going to make the most of this moment, I also knew that there’d be no future. Cinderella was a fairytale, after all.
When his lips found mine, I didn’t push him away or act coy. I kissed him back. I parted my lips to invite him in. To let him know that I was up for whatever.
He groaned. He put his drink on the table and then took mine setting it next to his. As he removed my glasses, his brown eyes looked into mine like he was searching for something. I wish I knew what it was because I desperately wanted to give it to him. But then his lips were on mine again and I got lost in his taste.
Our hands moved quickly as we undressed. His long fingers brushed over me and it felt like my skin was on fire.
“You’re so soft,” he murmured as his hands found my breasts and started to knead them. He pinched the nipples watching as they hardened and distended. He leaned over, sucking one into his mouth, making my entire body light up. I arched beneath him desperate to feel him inside me.
“Simon,” I gasped. I reach for him, wrapping my hand around his length. Like his body, it was long and firm. I stroked him, and he thickened.
“Fuck. I need you.” He pushed my thighs apart, hooking one of my legs over the back of his couch and the other around his waist. His long fingers slid between my legs. “Tell me you’re wet. That you’re ready.”
My hips bucked up at his touch. He slid a long finger inside me and I nearly came out of my skin. “Yes. Simon…God…please.”
He withdrew his finger and pressed the tip of his dick against me. “What is it about you?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. “I want you.”
He thrust in, hard, fast, and so deep.
“Oh my God,” I cried out as he filled me.
“Do you like that, Leslie?”
“Yes…more…don’t stop…”
He lay over me and gripped my hands bringing them over my head, resting them on the arm of the couch. “Do you like to fuck hard and fast? Or slow?”
“I want what you want.” I squeezed hands. “Just start already.”
He let out a surprised laugh. “You’re so real. And so responsive. I wonder if I’m dreaming.”
I did a Kegel squeeze. “Not dreaming.”
“Ah fuck…” he groaned. He began to move. Slow and long. I felt each and every inch of him as he slid in and out, until I was writhing beneath him.
“Yes...more…more…Simon…please.” Every neuron in my body was cranking up to fire and I could hardly stand the anticipation. It was like reaching the top of the first of a roller coaster, that split second before it went careening down in a thrilling ride.
“Are you there? Are you going to come?” his voice was strained, like he was holding back. I didn’t want him to. He seemed to be a person that was always holding back, but I didn’t want that now. I wanted the real Simon Stark.
“Yes…make me come Simon…don’t hold back.”
He growled and heat flashed wildly in his eyes. For a moment, I thought I saw him. The real him. But then he was fucking me. Hard. Fast. Wild. And I was lost in sensation over sensation until I was teetering on the edge of oblivion.
To me, this was what it was all about. Two people, getting real and intimate. Giving and accepting pleasure. I hoped to God that he meant what he said about not being a one-night sort of guy, because that string between us was now a rope and I was completely tethered to him.
1
Simon
Sometimes I wondered why I was bothering. As I looked around at the crowd enjoying the fundraising party that I put together for Jay Wallace’s mayoral campaign, I was struck with the notion that I was wasting my time. If he won, and I had him as an ally in Salvation, I could do more than I’d been allowed to do so far, but to what end? I came here with the idea that I could find my place. I could make a difference and help small town Nebraska as the rest of the world left it behind.
At first, my plan worked. Armed with the governor’s support, I came to town and convinced Mayor Valentine of my project’s merits. Like me, he was concerned about the fate of the family farm and of Salvation as opportunities took many of the youth away to larger cities. My prison project would have brought in jobs that many in town welcomed.
But the deputy mayor, Sinclair Jones, with the full force of the farmers, was able to shut that project down. I won’t lie. I wasn’t a man used to losing. I was determined that somehow, someway, I’d win.
There was no question that I was an asshole. I wasn’t born that way. I’d once believed as everyone else seemed to that life was about love and happiness. Even after the shitty parents I had, I’d believed in the possibility of a joyful life thanks to a couple of nice nannies. But I’d learned the hard way that love and happiness were all marketing gimmicks to sell greeting cards and personal development books. What I knew now was that the only thing that lasted, the only thing that never let you down or betrayed you, was money and power. I’d also learned that the best way to get money and power was by being an asshole.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want friends or that I didn’t want to do good deeds. I was ready, willing and able to be friendly and helpful. For example, I would have been happy to fund the new library project for the school that the teacher, Holly St. James wanted to build. All I asked was for her support of Jay in the election. She didn’t even think about it.
What was really galling was that she had done an asshole thing by lying about her marital status to Meredith Reynolds, the richest person in town, until I got here. But did the town ostracize her for trying to dupe an old woman out of her money? No? They commended her for being willing to risk so much for the children of Salvation. Maybe they forgave her because she was now engaged to Tucker Marshall, the man she’d pretended to be married to, but in my mind, she lied. I never lied. Sure, I manipulated and maneuvered, all to help the good citizens of Salvation, but I never lied. Yet I was the asshole.
So why was I still here, I wondered as I took in everyone drinking my free booze and eating the free canapes and other gourmet foods I’d brought in for the event. Jay Wallace, while holding steady in the polls, wasn’t likely to beat Deputy Mayor Sinclair Jones. While he’d grown up here like she had, he hadn’t been as involved in the town for as long as her. He also had the personality of a wet dishrag, and I knew for sure he wasn’t as smart as her. The chance of my guy winning was low in which case, there was no reason to hang around.
Sinclair didn’t like me about as much as I didn’t like her. As mayor, she’d put the kibosh on anything I wanted to do just because it was me. I had half a mind to fund the library just to prove my thesis when she found some way to stop the permits or have the kids refuse to read or something.
But I wasn’t a man to give without getting something in return. Not anymore. I wasn’t going to be lied to, betrayed, or tricked ever again. So, no free library for Salvation.
“Quite a showing you have here,” Mayor Valentine came to stand next to me.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” I said, wondering if he was scouting out his protégé’s competition.
“Even though I’m retiring this year, I like to stay involved in community
events.”
“This isn’t a community event. It’s a fundraiser.”
“But anyone is welcome right?” He seemed more relaxed than usual. I wondered if that was because he knew his stint as mayor would be over soon or the effect of his young wife.
“Anyone who paid.”
“I paid.”
A part of me wanted to admire him. He was doing just the type of thing I would do. In fact, I had done it. I’d paid to check out the one fundraiser Sinclair had put on.
I smiled the way I’d learned how to do years ago. It made people relax and feel welcome, even though on the inside I didn’t care one iota.
“Well, then mayor, welcome. I don’t see your young pretty wife.” I tossed in the word young knowing it would gall him. He was nearly old enough to be her father.
He gave me a smile that I suspect was much like the one I’d given him. “She’s spending the evening with her friends.”
A movement across the room had my eyes narrowing to get a better look. As the dark-haired woman came into better view I cursed. That woman was back again, God dammit. I thought I’d seen the last of her in the fall.
I knew who she was, but I’d stayed out of her way. My goal in life was to avoid being made a fool, lied to, or misrepresented, and in my book, journalists were the worst of the bunch where that was concerned.
She’d been talking to people about some sort of story she was doing on me. So far, no story had been printed that I’d found and I figured it had been killed especially since she hadn’t reached out to interview me. I was important in my little world, but I knew I was nobody to the rest of the world. Who’d give a shit what I was doing in Podunk, Nebraska?
“Excuse me, mayor.” I left Mo Valentine to whatever skulking he planned to do and made my way to the women.
She was a stunner for sure, but I’d learned to separate my dick from my brain a long time ago. Many men with my wealth used it to attract women to fulfill their baser needs. I wasn’t built like that. The truth was, for most of my childhood and teenage years, I felt like a fucking alien mutant. I was tall, thin, and gangly. I once had a roommate at boarding school who said I should dress up like Elastic Girl from the Incredibles because I looked like I was stretched like her. Fucker.
Swimming and lifting weights helped me build some bulk. I was still tall and lean, but didn’t look like I’d been run over by a steamroller anymore. However, that didn’t mean my relationship with women changed. Not that I never dated, because I did, but I knew they liked the money more than me. Because I was man, and liked sex as much as the next person, usually I didn’t care.
Only once had a woman fooled me into thinking she cared for me. That never happened again. And would never happen again. The Stark line would die with me. I’d made sure of that five years ago, when I got myself snipped. Thank God I did it before I met the woman who solidified my belief that love was a cruel joke.
The reporter, Erica Edmonds, must have had a sense that I was on to her as when I finally caught up to her she was standing in a dark corner, the shadows hiding her from the others at the event.
“I don’t appreciate your skulking around and interfering with my life and business.” I worked to keep my tone casual. I didn’t need any lurkers getting a sense of something was wrong.
She looked at me and for a moment my insides went cold and an image of Leslie before she ripped what was left of my heart out of my chest flashed in my head. But this woman wasn’t her. For one, this woman was named Erica. For another, while there was something familiar, they looked different. Leslie had long thick dark hair, whereas the woman before me had shorter straight hair. Leslie wore adorable bookish glasses, while this woman wore none. And up until the day Leslie lied and betrayed me, she had a sweet innocence about her that had made me believe in good, and being with her was like a cleansing of my soul. This woman looked like she wanted to set me on fire.
“I’m just exercising my first amendment rights,” she said in a curt tone.
“Actually, unless you paid, you’re trespassing.”
She held up a paper with her invite. Fuck.
“What could possibly be so fascinating about me that you’ve spent months following me around and stirring up trouble?” I asked.
“People are going to want to know how a small forgotten town in Nebraska stood up to a billionaire and won.”
My jaw tightened. “And what have the people of Salvation won by not accepting my help? Their youth are leaving for good because there aren’t enough jobs. Corporate farms are squeezing out the family farm. A trade war involving agricultural products would decimate this town. So, tell me again, what they’ve won?”
She pursed her lips. “They’ve still got their free will and dignity.”
“I wonder how much of the mortgage that will pay.” Not wanting to have a discussion with her and have it end up misrepresented, I said, “You need to leave and stop harassing me and the people of this town.”
“You’re just a bully, Stark. You don’t scare me. I’m going to finish covering this mayoral race until the election in two weeks. You can threaten me all you like, but I’m not backing off this time.”
I frowned. This time? What was she talking about? Knowing she’d make a scene if I had her escorted out, I left her there and focused on the event.
As soon as it was over, I headed home. My property was built by a man who built one of the first breweries in Nebraska a zillion years ago. The large nearly eighteen thousand square foot home on it was where I ran my empire. At least for now.
I went directly to my office, tossing my coat and tie on the back of a chair as I headed to my desk.
“Did everything go well at the event tonight, sir,” Marvin, my butler asked as he picked up my coat and tie.
“Well enough.” I searched my desk for the info on Erica Edmonds.
“Is there anything I can get you?”
“Bourbon.” I straightened when I found the file. “Erica Edmonds. She works for a paper in Omaha.”
“Yes sir.” Marvin set the clothing down and went to pour my drink from the bar in my office.
I pulled a clipping from the paper she’d written about me and the prison fiasco last year. Of course, it had that same slant that she had now. Greedy interloper interfering in the lives of good rural Nebraskan folk. I went to the next page to find my answer.
“Ah, she was contracted by Nebraska Now to do a long piece on me.”
“Yes sir.” Marvin handed me my drink. I took a long swig and then sat down at my desk. I picked up the phone to call my lawyer. “Anything else, sir?”
“No. Thank you, Marvin.”
“Very well.” He picked up my tie and coat and left my office shutting the door behind him.
“It’s late on a Friday, Si, what could you possibly need now?” my lawyer, Angela Kimmel said.
“I want you to contact Nebraska Now magazine and tell them I’m going to file charges against their reporter and it for stalking if they don’t stop harassing me.”
I heard her sigh. “Reporters harass. That’s what they do. And stalking…you’re not going to succeed in that.”
“Oh? She’s been coming to Salvation for months to do a story on me, but hasn’t talked to me once, except when I approached her. How can she be doing a story on me and not talk to me? She also hasn’t talked to anyone in my camp. She’s either a very bad reporter or she’s stalking me. I won’t have it.”
“It won’t look good for you trying to stop the media.”
“I’m not stopping the media. I’m happy to talk to them. Further, she’s become a part of the story. She’s insinuating herself into my business. If she were a cop it would be entrapment.” Okay, so I was going off the edge a little bit.
“What do you want?”
“I want her off the story.” I had a tinge of guilt. The fact that I felt that was proof that my heart and conscious hadn’t completely withered and died. I didn’t like fucking with people’s livelihoods, but
I wasn’t going to let Erica Edmonds skew and slant my work to make me look like some evil Lex Luther.
“That’s a little much, don’t you think? That act will become her next story.”
“Not if I put a restraining order on her.”
“Si.”
I hated it when she talked to me like a mother. Or what I thought a mother would sound like. My mother, along with my father, was too busy to parent. The minute I was born I was raised by nannies or in boarding school. I wanted to be different than my parents, but I knew now that I was more like them than I’d hoped to be. The good news was that I wouldn’t procreate and therefore wouldn’t force some child to live the misery of loneliness and rejection I’d been raised with. I wasn’t sure if I was more concerned about Erica Edmonds depicting me as an evil man or exposing my childhood misery as a way to explain it.
Stranger still was my growing need to make her stop. Other reporters had written unfavorable things about me. But for some reason, this reporter felt dangerous to me. I had to stop her.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m not saying you have to sue or file for a restraining order. Just suggest that it is a possibility. See what they do.”
“Yeah, alright. You know, maybe it’s time to return to Omaha.”
“I’m not a quitter, Angela.”
“But you’re not one to stick with a losing deal either.”
“Just make the call,” I said tersely, then hung up the phone.
Angela was resistant with me, but I knew she’d get the job done. That’s why I’d hired her. By Monday, I was certain Erica Edmonds would be off the story and out of my life.
2
Erica
At first, I’d nearly panicked when Simon cornered me. I knew he was aware of my presence over the last few months when I’d come to Salvation to work on my story, but I’d stayed out of his way. I didn’t want to risk his recognizing me. I didn’t look the same. I didn’t have the same name. I didn’t even act the same, because the truth was, I wasn’t the same. When I’d known him five years ago, I was naïve and in love. Today I was smarter and filled with anger.
Fake Marriage (Contemporary Romance Box Set) Page 84