Hale on Earth (Arrangement Series Book 2)

by Francesca Penn

  “Hello, Karessa,” Elmer’s coo is artificially sweet. He reaches out and runs his gigantic hand over my shoulder. “Green is such a pretty color on you.” His blue eyes roam over me with far more appreciation than a father-in-law should have. “Then again, you’re always pretty.”

  “Um, thank you.” I plaster on a fake smile. “I’d love to chat but I’m doing work for an event.”

  Elmer grabs my arm as I pass him. He’s closer now, almost whispering in my ear.

  “It’s a shame you disappeared at the wedding, I was looking forward to our dance.”

  He’s big like Oran, but that’s where their similarities end. With his full beard and brown hair, I’d say he looks more like Bluto the Terrible from Popeye. And, with the way I feel, he can easily be a villain.

  Disengaging, I move away from him. “Sorry, I didn’t feel well.” I lied. “I’ll tell Oran you said hello. Excuse me.” He calls my name as I pull open the door. “Yes.”

  “We will see each other again.” His smile is more predatory than friendly.

  Instantly, I realize one of my suspicions is incorrect. Oran and Elmer don’t operate the same. They’re nothing alike. Maybe my emotional state has me sensitive, but I didn’t like the vibe I got from him at all. I’m spooked enough to sink on one chair inside the store and retrieve my phone.

  “What?” Oran answers and even with him being grumpy, I feel better just being on the phone with him.

  “Are you busy?” I ask briskly, still looking around in case his dad was still close.

  “If I were watching paint grow, I’d still be too busy to talk to you.”

  The asshole hangs up in my face, but at least this is familiar. He doesn’t answer when I call back. Switching tactics, I call his office.

  “What the fuck do you want?” He growls.

  “I need to talk to you-”

  “Don’t worry about talking to me now. Take your ass back wherever you were and lose my number.”

  “You might be the first man in history to tell his wife to lose his number.”

  “You’re not worried about being my wife, remember? Did you think I was too busy plotting with my dad for your insignificant stake in real estate to notice that you’d snuck off? Continue being a fucking brat, Princess. Run back to your daddy because I’m tired of looking at your ass.”

  He slams the phone down. Being hung up on hits different from a landline.

  “What a jackass,” I seethe, and clench my fists.

  I’m trying to tell him something important and he’s not listening.

  Bully the bully. Out asshole the asshole.

  I carry Ainslee’s advice with me on my way to Oran’s office.

  Chapter 19

  Oran

  The wall shudders when the door bangs against it from the force of Karessa pushing it open. If she were a cartoon, I’d see steam coming off her body. She glares at me, but I remain unbothered. I meant what I said over the phone and don’t give a damn about her coming out of hiding. She’s been ghosting me for a week based on made up allegations, so fuck her and the stilettos she walked in on. We stare at each other for a moment, daring the other to speak.

  Maisy, my frazzled secretary, runs in behind Karessa. She’s slightly out of breath, which shows Karessa ignored her attempt to keep her out of my office. Karessa glares at her, silently daring her to touch her or say something. If I weren’t in fuck you mode, this would be damn sexy. Maisy’s lip quivers as she looks from me to her, to determine who’s lead she should follow. The boss or his wife. After a moment, she sighs and walks away, closing the door behind her. I guess she’d rather get fired than go head to head with Karessa.

  I laugh on the inside. Moving back to the document, I pretend she doesn’t exist.

  “Care to say it to my face?” She challenges me.

  I snort and continue to work. “I’ve never held my tongue or stuttered before. You heard me. Go back to wherever you were. I’m busy,” I dismiss her like she works for me.

  I don’t care that the way she looks in her fit and flare sundress will give me wet dreams later. At this rate, I know where we’re headed. She got me fucked up if she thinks she can accuse me of working with the man I’m trying to protect her from, then leave for days with no word. I can’t be the man she always wanted and be out to get her at the same time. Karessa has to decide. Until then, I have shit to do.

  I rub my ring with my thumb as I read. It’s an annoying habit I’ve picked up since getting the damn thing. I don’t know why I enjoy being able to feel it, but I do. I catch the green of her dress in my peripheral right before I see her red polished toes in multi-colored peep toe shoes. She’s standing on my desk like she’s lost her damn mind.

  Leaning back in my chair, I look up at her.

  “Get your ass off my desk.”

  One of her perfect eyebrows arch higher than the other, but she doesn’t acknowledge my order. Instead, like a damn house cat, she stretches her foot and knocks a pile of files off my desk.

  “Karessa,” I warn, but my other pile follows. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I’m also capable of being an asshole, Oran.” The document I was reading hits my lap then slides to the floor. I’ve been working on that for the last hour. If she were a man, I’d fight her.

  “I almost called you a bitch.”

  “Do it,” she taunts. “Get it out of your system, asshole.”

  The tip of Karessa’s colorful foot presses the lid of my MacBook down.

  “You better no-”

  The devastating crash of technology hitting the ground and not knowing if it will be salvageable has me ripping her off my desk. She fights to get out of my hold, but I have her chest pressed to mine with a vise grip around her waist.

  “Are you fucking crazy?” I yell in her face.

  She pushes at my chin; her nails scratching my cheek but I refuse to let her go.

  “If I am, it’s because of you,” she hollers back. The poised lady is gone, leaving hellfire in her place. “I’m sick of your shit, Hell!”

  She wraps her legs around my waist for leverage and pulls my hair. I bite her neck, but she moans and throws this whole tiff into another direction. I fall back into my chair with her on top of me. Karessa clutches my chin and squeezes hard to fuck with me further.

  “You mad big guy? Did I upset your day?” She goads me. She taps my face hard enough to irritate me but not be a slap. “Still want to call me a bitch?”

  She licks my lips and rocks on my dick, making it harder with each pass. I’m angry and horny. Any other time we would’ve had angry sex right here, but we can’t without an understanding. If she wants me to be that asshole, I can give her what she wants.

  “Bitch, what do you think? Do you see what you just did?”

  She gasps because she didn’t expect it.

  “What? You think you’re the only one who can use names? You want me to hurt your feelings? Does that make you feel better?” I brand her lips with mine, taking my kiss harshly to expel my anger. If she wants to fight, she’s come to the right guy.

  Karessa moans once more from dry humping me at her leisure. With a firm grip on her shoulders, I stop her quest.

  “Enjoyment of my dick is for my wife. Didn’t you vacate that position?”

  “I needed time to think!”

  “Good for you. Are you finished blaming me for your prenup?”

  “I wasn’t blaming you, I wanted to know how they forced you to marry me!”

  “The reason is not important. Just know I did it for you. It was more for your benefit than mine. It’s the past. We can only worry about now!”

  “Ask me what I want to do.”

  “We’re beyond that now, I don’t give a fuck what you want to do.”

  Karessa pulls my tie and grinds on my dick. “Tell me,” she moans. “Tell me what it’ll be.”

  I grab her hip, digging my fingers into her flesh and my other hand grabs her face.

  “You
’re mine. You might as well change your name. You’re not going any fucking where. No one else can have you.” I unsnap the buttons on her dress to knead one of her breasts. “I hate the thought of another man touching. You can’t get rid of me.”

  Lust shines in her eyes, her face is so close to mine our lips vibrate when she speaks.

  “Claim me, then. Back up the shit you talk, please.”

  I slap her hand away from my tie. Grabbing her throat, I guide her atop my now empty desk.

  “I can’t let you lock yourself into that bullshit prenup.”

  She grabs my face again, forcing our eyes to lock.

  “That’s the fucking problem. There’s no I anymore, mutherfucker, it’s we.”

  “Then, we need a plan.”

  I sink my teeth into her nipple through one of the lacy bras she’s always wearing. Her scream is stifled underneath her palm like she’s trying to be quiet.

  “If you want to elevate to taking my dick, never hold back with me. I don’t give a damn where we are.”

  “B-but.”

  “No buts. You’re not ready for my dick. Fucking me is habit forming. The euphoria I’ll give you will be in your blood, sinking into your bones until your very essence can’t function without a hit of me.” I continue holding her down and yank up her dress to admire how I’ve soaked her underwear. I rub my thumb along the panel, pressing just hard enough for her pussy to chase it. “Are you ready for that, Trophy? Do you want to know what it’s like to crave my dick until the thought of getting it controls your day?”

  “Yes, but I don’t have the time… to be addicted.”

  “That’s the only dick you’ll get from me, so you better be fucking ready.”

  The lacy bullshit has to go. She growls when she realizes I’ve ripped away her lingerie.

  “Those were three-hundred dollars!”

  “So? Wear shit you don’t mind losing around me.”

  We groan at the feeling of my fingers sinking into her wet pussy. My fascination with my fingers stretching her has me picturing how my dick will push her limits. It screams to join the action, but it’s not time.

  “Oran,” she screams as her first orgasm hits.

  Too fucking easy.

  I pull out, slap her pussy, and shove my fingers inside harder. She bucks from the intrusion; I add a third one just to be a dick.

  “You said I came with terms and conditions. Those aren’t mine.” I pump my fingers hard with each statement. “Here’s my dick’s terms and conditions. You move back home and fucking stay. You trust me completely or not at all. Always remember that I never was and never will be anything like my fucking sperm donor.”

  Robbing her of the orgasm she was chasing, I remove my fingers and suck her juices off them. Her eyes are hazy and lustful as she watches me with her tits quivering on her heaving chest.

  “You taste good, baby. I would’ve feasted on your pussy if you weren’t so fucking annoying.” I adjust my dick, still denying her a view of it. “When I come home tonight, you better be there. No more of this bullshit.” I pull her to me by her bra to take one last taste of her mouth. “Understand?”

  Chapter 20

  Karessa

  I’m not saying I listened to Oran, but I stopped by the store on the way to “our house” to get some groceries for dinner. I was running out of outfits and my sisters were tired of me interrupting their normal schedules. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

  Fine, I listened to Oran. He’s my husband despite how we got together. I can’t get answers from afar, and if I want to be super honest with myself, he’s hard to stay away from for too long. Oran is all the way in my system and has me craving something I’ve never had. Even when he’s being mean, he’s so attractive it hurts to look at him.

  Balancing my grocery bag and my purse on my left, I use my free hand to unlock the door. The sunlight bounces off the golden key, bringing my attention to it. It looks like something is engraved on it. The lock clicks its surrender and the door swings open. After toting the bags inside, I lean on the island to study the key closer.

  In delicate cursive, the word “trophy” is engraved with a date. I snort and my irritation tells me to junk punch him when he comes home, but my teal vase with hand-painted cherry blossoms catch my attention.

  How did that get there?

  Curious, I turn an assessing eye to my surroundings as I notice other things that belong to me like my burnt orange fluffy throw that’s slouching over the top of the sofa. In the master bedroom, there’s a picture of me in the golden frame Esme gave me sitting on Oran’s nightstand. I tilt my head to the side because it’s odd seeing pieces of my old life in his home. And I’m pretty sure there was another picture in that frame. In fact, I don’t have any framed photos of myself, not even my graduation photos.

  Opting to ask Oran later, I take a quick shower then return to the kitchen to prep dinner. I’ve cooked the ingredients and have it finishing in the oven by the time I hear Oran’s car zooming into the garage. The salad is ready and waiting on the island when Oran appears. My breath hitches, and the stupid butterflies congregate in in my belly. I know we’ve just seen each other, but his inky hair, light eyes, and dark shading of his bread has him looking delicious and dangerous.

  His statements from his office return and make me feel weak to my knees.

  Mine.

  “Come,” he summons me in a cool tone that dares me to disobey as he shrugs off his blazer

  Like there’s an invisible tether between us, I move across the kitchen to him without argument. As he removes his tie and rolls up his sleeves, his gray eyes survey my pale blue tank top and pink floral yoga booty shorts. When the bounce back to my tank, I wonder if he can tell my nipples have already hardened from his perusal. Oran grabs me once I’m in arm’s reach. The rush of excitement I always feel when he’s close has my body tingling. His low beard tickles me before he takes his kiss.

  Already hot, I moan into his mouth but he pulls away once it gets good.

  “Who am I?” He rasps in my ear.

  “Oran Hale?”

  I’m confused by the question but will answer anything for him to put his lips on me again. His still crisp shirt teases my fingertips and I can feel his heartbeat just below them. The dark gray eyes shrink to slits as he grabs my chin without easing the hold on my waist.

  “To you, Trophy. Who am I to you?”

  It’s hard to concentrate, his mouth is already exploring my neck. My knees get weak when he sucks on the skin at the junction of my neck and shoulder.

  “Hu… my husband?”

  “Say it with conviction, woman.”

  “You’re my husband,” I say as firmly as I can with my blood roaring in my ears. Oran has taken me too deep into arousal, too fast with just his mouth.

  Oran has me sitting on the island with my tank top down to my waist, exposing my breasts faster than I can process.

  “Did you know people learn better when something impactful happens to them right after the lesson?”

  “Meaning?”

  Oran’s body glows with mischief and dirty promises.

  “Who am I?” he repeats.

  “My husba- ohhh!”

  My response drops into a moan when he bites one nipple while squeezing the other. The intense sensation has my clit throbbing. I whisper his name because I don’t have enough breath for anything else. My fingers slide through his almost black waves as he teases my nipples with his mouth and fingers, switching to give both equal attention. My nipples have been sucked and teased before. I’m not a virgin who was waiting for Oran, but there’s something about him and the way he does it that has me on the verge of climaxing from nipple play.

  Oran stops and pushes me back so quickly that the chill of the island feels like a shock to my skin.

  “And who are you to me?” His intense eyes hold my gaze, daring me to say the wrong thing.

  “Your wife,” I answer with certainty because now I know a
prenup or an annulment won’t change how I feel about him. He already commands my being.

  I don’t understand the exact emotion he’s displaying, but my brain shuts down the moment he nips at my naughty bits through my shorts. He inhales me like he’s being deprived then hits me with a lustful look as his tongue caresses his lips.

  “It’s your fault. If you didn’t come to my office like an asshole. I wouldn’t have gotten a taste, nor would I be craving more…”

  I’m confused until he tugs at my shorts. I lift my hips to assist him, hoping I’m thinking what he’s thinking. Also, I don’t want him to rip my favorite shorts. Oran only cares about what he wants right now and the moment my shorts aren’t obstructing his mission, he dips his head between my legs and electrifies me with his tongue. I don’t care that my shorts barely got past my knees and his impatient ass dipped his head underneath then between my legs to get to my slit because two firm strokes of his tongue already has me barrelling towards an orgasm.

  His moans vibrate against my sensitive skin like he’s starving and I’m his dinner. All modesty and properness flies out the window; Oran has me sounding like I’m in amateur porn, screaming my encouragement for him to keep going. His tongue is the perfect mix between hard thrusts and teasing flicks on my clit. I’m done when his fingers join. My body contracts around them while his mouth focuses solely on sucking my clit.

  “Fuck, Oran,” I yell in agony from release because he won’t let up.

  He keeps prolonging it until it rolls into an extra one. I fear I’m not built for this level of intensity as my body melds with the quartz surface. I’ve surrendered. I don’t have the energy to fight. I give myself over to Oran’s sexual will.

  It takes a moment, but the loud beeping pulls me back into my surroundings. I have to get the lasagna out of the oven.