Hale on Earth (Arrangement Series Book 2)

by Francesca Penn

  “The food. I got to get it out of the oven,” I mumble my thoughts. I’m so disoriented and weak from the two orgasms Oran effortlessly handed out.

  “Don’t move. I’ll grab it.”

  Oran slides his head from between my legs. My shorts are around my shins still. Rolling over, I push up on my hand and knees to climb down so I can finish dinner.

  Oran’s warm hands squeeze my ass cheeks hard enough for me to wonder if he’ll leave a bruise.

  “I told you not to move.” Is the only warning I get before he sinks his tongue into me from behind.

  Bucking against his mouth, I arch my back like a stretching cat. My mouth hangs open, caught between pleasure and surprise. His thumbs keep me spread apart as he takes what he wants. Oran presses my perineum with the tip of his tongue then strokes up and down while toying with my clit until I’m moaning his name again.

  His tongue roams higher and my eyes buck when it circles a part of me that’s never been licked before. I try to clench, but he’s holding me in place. His free hand moves to toying with my slit, pressing enough to tease me and buck my hips for more which causes a different thrill from his tongue doing dark, dirty, and now very satisfying things. Oran adds just the right amount of pressure with his tongue and hand and makes me short-circuit.

  An eruption like none I’ve ever had before has me scraping at the hardtop as I give my throat and lungs a workout. I collapse when my legs and arms give out. He might be right. I’m not ready for the full experience. He almost killed me with foreplay.

  Oran slides me off until my feet connect with the floor. Kneeling, he bites my ass again before he rolls my shorts back into place. His erection rides its way up my body then presses into my lower back as he stands behind me, caging me between the island and his body.

  “Never question if I can back up what I say.” Oran warns me, then steps back to swat me on my ass. “Go clean yourself up, and thanks for moisturizing my beard.”

  I gingerly walk away on shaky legs, the evidence of my orgasms still coat my inner thighs as I enter the master bathroom all the while wondering what the fuck just happened.

  Chapter 21

  Oran

  I’m addicted. Karessa is stamped on my skin like a tattoo. She’s beginning to influence my moves and actions even when she’s not around. If we’re heading towards annulment, having her near me will be impossible, but not being around her would be worse. I rub my aching dick when she disappears, willing it to behave. We need to talk. Not argue or get each other off. Talk. I need to know the game plan so I can act accordingly.

  I want more and I will get it, I just need to know when. The food smells delicious and I’m trying my damndest to wait for her. Now that I’m not blinded by those damn shorts that begged me to eat her pussy, I can pay attention to my other hungers outside of the way she smells, tastes, and feels.

  Downing some ice icy water, I attempt to tamp down my hormones. At this rate, I’ll fuck her hard for the rest of the week and worry about the legalese later. My determination to consider what she wants gives me pause. Looking down at the lasagna again, I allow the memory of the times my mother made it for me when I was having a bad day wash over me. It’s my favorite food that also feeds me with wonderful memories of her.

  My phone vibrates against my thigh until I fish it out of my pocket.

  Trophy: Go ahead and eat. I’m not hungry.

  That’s adorable. She thinks she can avoid me.

  Me: I’ll see you in five minutes.

  I chuckle when I hear her low growl from the other room. Grabbing two plates, I serve us some pasta, salad, and rolls. I leave them near the stove as I clean the island. Karessa appears once I’m moving the plates in front of our seats.

  She stares at the surface as if she’s able to watch a replay before her cheeks tint. She’s dressed much more modestly in silky peach pajama pants and a gray baby t-shirt. It looks like she learned to not wear booty shorts around me. The memory of her cheeks hanging out the back of them almost makes me grab her once more.

  With a thank you far too prim and proper for a woman who was just screaming my name about thirty minutes ago, Karessa sits across from me and begins eating her meal. She chews cutely as she looks everywhere but at me. I want to grab her by her topknot and finish what I started.

  For a few minutes, our silverware and plates are the only thing interacting as we process our thoughts. One thing keeps tugging at me for my attention.

  “Karessa?”

  Her cautious gaze jumps up from her plate as if I’m a principal who has summoned her to my office. My asshole dick chooses that moment to picture her as my very naughty student.

  Fuck, that’s hot.

  “Yes?” Her response brings me back to the question I’m waiting to ask.

  “Why did you make lasagna?”

  Her cheeks heat a little and the attempted shrug of her delicate shoulders makes her appear more unsure than nonchalant. I know the truth, I just need for her to say it.

  “It’s your favorite. You made me macaroni. I made you lasagna.”

  She smiles self-consciously then returns to her food.

  “How did you know?”

  Karessa carefully places her fork next to the plate. Intertwining her fingers, she studies them like she wasn’t born with them. Everything in her demeanor screams, “Don’t make me answer!”

  “Well?” I prompt.

  “You know how, Oran.”

  Her crush. My name coming off her lips in a plea is damn arousing. It turns me on to where I’m shifting in my seat.

  “Tell me.”

  She gulps her wine like it’ll give her courage. She’s told me what’s on her mind before, but I can tell she’s still frazzled from what I did to her. Karessa will adjust. That was only the beginning.

  “My former infatuation with you made me go over and beyond to learn all I could to be the best future girlfriend you’ve ever had.”

  “Former?” I tease.

  “Shut up,” she grumps with a snort and an eye roll. Some of her moxie returns and she sits straighter. “My infatuation sunk with me in the pool. Plus, you’d never acknowledged my existence.”

  Ah. That again.

  “Any female other than my mom would have gotten pushed. I was dealing with a crazy ex and I didn’t need her stalking you just because you greeted me. Or any girl,” I add, because it’s true. “My actions were not specific to you. I didn’t even know who you were,” I explain.

  Her features soften as if she’s considering my words.

  “You walked out with a girl after you pushed me. It felt pretty personal. Caerwyn had to help me.”

  “Caerwyn helped you while I talked the psycho into leaving the party. We’ve already covered the age difference when you were drunk. Do you need a refresher?” She shifts in her chair like remembering what I told her turns her on. Good.

  “No. I remember.”

  Moving my now empty plate aside, I swipe the last bit of sauce off my bottom lip with my thumb then suck it off. It’s a damn good sauce. My actions weren’t meant to be sexy, but Karessa’s face tells me a different story. I’ll take it.

  “How do you want me?”

  Her fork clanks against the plate once it slides out of her hand.

  “What?”

  Holding her gaze, I lean in to keep her attention on me.

  “How. Do. You. Want. Me?” I enunciate. “You’ve had a week to formulate an opinion. Do you want to risk it all or wait,” I glance at the date on my phone. “A little over five months?”

  “What do you want?” She throws the decision back to me.

  Shaking my head, I turn down the choice. “No ma’am. I’m not answering for you. Last week you thought I was in cahoots with my dad just because I cared enough to make you macaroni. You are not pinning your choice on me. I will have you either way. I just need to know if my dick will meet you now or later. If you choose to be my real wife, I’ll take you in our room right now and put you in
every position I can imagine until you can’t scream anymore. If you want to wait to negotiate your prenup, I’ll show you to your room.”

  Karessa’s throat works as she chugs the rest of the wine. “My room?”

  “Yes. All the rooms are furnished now. If you get mad, go in one of them. I wouldn’t leave you blind for days at a time, I expect the same respect from now on. I may not love you, but I’m capable of giving you some things you want or need. We’ve proven our ability to get along. We can make the most of this situation. It’s okay to laugh together sometimes. We don’t have to go to war every day. Isn’t that what you said? That’s what you wanted, right?

  Don’t overthink it. It’s simple. It wasn’t an one-eighty overnight change like you said. You told me what you wanted, and I applied it. That’s all.”

  She nods as she digests my statement. “Option A takes me to the master bedroom, sex, and a bullshit prenup? And Option B takes me to my own room, a name only marriage, but an annulment in five months?”

  I wave my hand from side to side. I’ve just decided to make changes. “Close. A renegotiation of the prenup instead of an annulment. I meant what I said earlier. I already moved your shit in, you’re stuck with me.”

  Stunned, she sits back in her chair. “You can’t take annulment off the table!”

  “Can and have,” I push back.

  “So, you’re not allowing me to break up with you?”

  “I’ve already framed our wedding picture. Besides, I’ve been your fantasy most of your life, now you get to see what it’s like to have me.”

  Karessa seethes like she wants to fight me. I wish she’d try. It’ll only end with her cuming. I adjust my dick at the thought of it. Her fist clenches, but she remains in places.

  “Then, what’s the difference besides a delay in sex?”

  “See, you’re focused on the wrong part. We’re married either way. The first option is on my dad’s terms, and the second is on yours. Divorce is an option to revisit later. In summary, fuck me now and look over your shoulder for the next fifteen years wondering if or when I’ll try to divorce you, or fuck me five months from now on better legal terms.”

  “And the separate rooms?”

  “To protect your virtue.”

  “I’m not a virgin.”

  I shrug although I wish to go back in time and choke every man who’s touched her, which is irrational depending on when she lost it. She would have had to be eighteen before I would have even considered touching her. Her virginity wasn’t mine to take.

  “May as well be. You won’t know what it’s like to be truly fucked until you’ve had me. The last man may have had you begging for more, but you won’t need to with me. You’ll be too tired to beg for more. If you beg, it’ll be for mercy.” Standing, I flatten my palms on the cool surface while holding her gaze. “I’ll have you soaked in your own sweat and pussy juices while I fuck you until you pass out, revive you, then do it all over again.” She balks, but her shallow breathing and dilated pupils tell me all I need to know. “Option A or B, Trophy?”

  Outwardly, Karessa is cool when she rises and moves her plate to the sink. I know she’s weighing everything as she rinses her plate and places it on the drying rack. I already know her answer when she turns.

  “I’ll find my room,” she squeaks on her way out of the kitchen.

  Chapter 22

  Oran

  Our next week goes well except for one major fucking flaw. Yoga. In our living room. With tight, tight clothes. Right now, I’m perched on my barstool like a lurker in my own home. She moves to the next pose, demonstrating her flexibility, and my dick cries.

  Both of her palms are flat on the mat, one leg is stretched in front with the other sticking out in the opposite direction all while her ass is elevated.

  “What the fuck do you call that?”

  “Upward-Facing Shiva Splits,” she announces as she switches positions.

  “Banned.”

  Karessa snorts. Standing, she straightens her legs with her back to me. Planting her feet apart slightly, she bends forward, pushing her hands on the mat then lifts one leg into the air with the bottom of her foot facing the ceiling until I can see her face.

  Damn, the things I can do to her flexible body.

  “Also banned.”

  Karessa ends the pose then turns to me with her hands on her hips. I want to lick the line trail of sweat disappearing into her purple sports bra. Her multi-colored purple, orange, and pink shorts also pisses me off. I take a detailed tour of her curvy body until she realizes I don’t give a fuck about her irritated glare.

  “How am I supposed to do yoga if you keep trying to ban my poses?” She tugs at her ponytail to tighten it. “Aren’t you supposed to be working or something, big real estate man?”

  “Can’t you do yoga in a different room or go to the class?” I counter.

  “Oooor, you can leave me the hell alone and pretend you have a life.”

  She flicks me off, then returns to yoga.

  Ooh, a marital spat.

  She’s in a wide-legged forward bend by the time I reach her mat. Her pussy is in the perfect place for me to rub it. Grabbing her hips, I grind my hard dick exactly where I’d like it to enter. We both moan expect hers carries a hint of surprise.

  She should have learned by now.

  “I’ve been good, haven’t I?” I ask with another roll of my hips. Grabbing the back of her bra, I pull her straight until her back meets my chest. My thumb traces the right leg opening of her shorts. “I’ve refused to put my dick inside of you until you read the prenup, right?” She nods tightly as my thumb teases her hard nub over her underwear. “And didn’t I allow you to choose the option that worked best for you?”

  “Yes,” her response is wispy with arousal.

  “Now, unless you want me to go back on every good deed I’ve done, I suggest you find something else to do or somewhere else to do it.” I press my thumb harder until she’s rubbing against it, trying to get more. “Short shorts and yoga are banned until further notice.” I spin her so she’s looking me in the eyes. Her breath hitches when I yank her ponytail. “Heed my warning before we start doing what Oran wants, and Oran wants pussy.”

  Unable to resist, I peck her lips. It’s not enough. My tongue traces her lips before I dive deeper into her mouth. I want to taste her again, to make her cum with my name on her lips, but I doubt I’d stop. Her whimpers egg me on and the way her fingers clench my biceps almost make me break the rules. My palms find her ass like heat-seeking missiles. I love squeezing it like I own it because I do.

  Regaining control, I push her away. “No more yoga or tiny shorts unless you are campaigning to take my dick.” My phone vibrates in my pocket. “Now get out of my face, Trophy.”

  Her hiss is a mixture of arousal and irritation. I don’t care. She almost got fucked. She needs to be thankful.

  I answer the phone as she disappears into her room to see what Jagger wants.

  “What?” I bite into the phone.

  “What are you doing?” He asks while ignoring my tone.

  “Trying to impress upon my wife why it’s dangerous to do yoga in tiny shorts.”

  “Or you could just fuck her and move on. I wish Ainslee would fucking run around in next to nothing and expect to not get fucked. Fuck, I’d end her life with my dick.”

  I can’t help but laugh because he’s ridiculous. “Yeah, you know the stakes.”

  “Fuck that prenup. We have to stay together forever, at least divorce is an option in yours. That wasn’t on the table for us. Fuck it. Be married forever, like us. Go get your dick wet and you’ll be less grouchy.”

  “Why did you call?” I switch the subject. My dick is already under too much stress for me to discuss it, not getting relief soon.

  “Keep on, asshole, and I’ll uninvite you from the honeymoon.”

  “Honeymoon?”

  “Fuck yeah, two weeks on the Amalfi Coast. I booked the villa and am calling
your big grumpy ass to give you the details.”

  Laughter rips out of my throat before I can stop it. “Wait, you want me to pack up the woman I can’t fuck who has a booty shorts addiction to take her to a place that’ll encourage her to wear even fewer clothes and call it a honeymoon? Sounds like a special brand of hell.”

  “It’s a fucking vacation and you need one. Just bring extra lube so your dick won’t get chaffed. I just emailed you the details. See you in a few days.”

  That well-fucked asshole hangs up on me, and I get an email notification. The photos of the villa are nice, and I like to travel. I consider it for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. Maybe a change of scenery would be nice. Ambling down the hall, I knock on her door.

  “What!” She yells from the other side of the wood.

  “Pack your bags, Mrs. Hale, we’re going on a honeymoon.”

  Chapter 23

  Karessa

  Honeymoon? It’s been hours since he’d said it, but my brain still cannot process the change. Isn’t sex an enormous part of a honeymoon? I’d hidden in my room for hours after the yoga episode. I had to pray for strength because I was moments from throwing all my plans out the window. Oran knows the right buttons to push to send me to a cold bath. He’s arousing and frustrating, and after hours of hiding, I miss him.

  Fuck my life.

  Pulling on my big girl panties, I leave my sanctuary to venture into the house.

  “You must really like your room,” he muses the moment I enter the kitchen.

  “Well, since it’s my same room in a new place, I’d say we’re familiar.”

  “I’m glad you’re comfortable.” My flinch when he pulls me close, tickles him.

  Oran gently cups my face and delivers one of those in between kisses. It lingers more than a peck, but isn’t meant to start anything more.

  “What?” he teases. “I can’t greet my missus with a kiss? I ordered us pizza for dinner. We’re about to Netflix.”