by Whitney G.
I couldn’t.
He was commanding me to keep them open, giving me a look that said he was about to fuck me senseless.
Without breaking our kiss, he slid the straps of my dress down my shoulders and pushed it down, letting it fall to the floor.
I slipped my hands to his pants, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly—feeling how hard his cock was already. I was starting to unbutton his jacket, but he grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head.
He trailed his tongue across my collarbone and in between my breasts, using his teeth to unfasten the latch at the front. When he finally got it open, he swirled the tip of his tongue around both of my nipples, biting down on each one until I murmured his name.
Tilting my head back, he pressed kisses up and down my throat and slowly released my hands. He slipped his thumb underneath the band of my panties and slowly ripped them off.
I gasped as he hooked one of my legs around his waist, as he slowly pushed his cock inside of me and commanded that I wrap my other leg around him.
“Jonath—”
“Shhh...” He placed my arms around his neck and pressed a light kiss against my forehead.
I bit my lip as he cupped my ass and started to slowly move me up and down. He pressed my back against the wall and slid his hands underneath my thighs, gripping me roughly as he began to pound into me.
There was no talking between us—just the sound of heavy breathing and our skin slapping against each other.
The plane shook again and I tightened my arms around his neck as he sped up our rhythm. I tried not to cry out, but I couldn’t help it.
“Jonathan...”
He drew both of my lips into his mouth and held them captive with his teeth, continuing to drive himself in and out of me.
I was murmuring into his mouth, begging him to release my lips, but he bit down on them even harder.
I squeezed my thighs around him as tremors started to make their way through my body, as I felt myself getting closer and closer to an orgasm.
Fuck...
He stared into my eyes—silently saying ‘I love you,’ and we exploded together—clinging to each other as our bodies shook violently, as the plane made a noticeable turn in the skies.
He let my lips go and panted. “I love you so fucking much, Claire...so fucking much...” He kissed my face over and over again and I breathlessly told him that I loved him, too.
He looked into my eyes for a long time, caressing my cheek with his palm. As soon as my breathing was normal again, he took a step back—with our bodies still entwined, and sat down on the small window bench.
I tried to move out of his lap, but he held me still and kissed my lips.
“I’ll never get enough of you.” He caressed my back with his hands. “You have no idea how much you mean to me...”
“I do...I feel the same way about—” My sentence was interrupted with a hot and passionate kiss. When he finally pulled away from me, I tried to finish what I was going to say but he kissed me until I completely forgot.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed with us sitting like that, but the next thing I felt was him slowly moving himself out of me and repositioning me in his lap.
“I feel like we’ve done everything...” I murmured.
“Everything?”
“In regards to sex...”
“No, not everything.” He cupped my ass and squeezed it, trailing one finger between my cheeks. “But I figured we should save something for the honeymoon.”
My eyes widened in shock.
“I can also think of several other places where I’d love to fuck you.”
“You should make a list.”
“I will.” He gently eased me out of his lap.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”
“To the only notary I trust.” He stood and picked my dress up from the floor. “He wasn’t able to charter a jet on short notice so we’re going to him in L.A.”
“Why do we need to see a notary?”
“Because you didn’t sign the papers I sent to your office.”
I sighed.
He’d sent me a sealed box of property deeds, yacht ownership records, and several investment portfolios at the beginning of the week. He’d had them delivered via two of his security guards with a handwritten note: “I want to share everything I own with you, before we’re married—Jonathan.”
“Why are you in such a rush?” I asked.
“Why are you not?”
“Because I’m being practical. Don’t you think it makes more sense to wait until I actually have your last name before I co-own everything you’ve worked so hard to get?”
“Not unless you plan on backing out of marrying me.” His voice was firm. “Since you decided not to sign the papers when I told you to—when my bank was willing to look the other way, we both need a separate set of witnesses and a notary for each set of contracts.”
Oh... “I’m sorry...I didn’t know that was why you did that.”
“And the second we’re done signing all these fucking contracts, we’re going to make a stop at a hotel.”
“We’re spending the night in L.A?”
“Yes. With our wedding planner.”
“What? I thought we were meeting with her next week. I still need to look through a few magazines and catalogues to make sure I have everything I want.”
“We’re doing it now, Claire. Right. Now. I feel like you’re delaying this, and if that’s the case I need to know why.” He looked as if he was waiting for me to say something, but I shook my head. “If it’s not the case, I need to know that you’re as serious as I am about getting married.” He pulled me close to his chest. “You can still meet with her next week to fine tune all the small details, but I want the date and the venue set tonight.”
“I am very serious about marrying you, Jonathan...”
“Prove it.”
**
“Okay, let me get this straight...” Our wedding planner paced our hotel suite tapping her lip.
Her name was Paris Corwin and she was the top wedding planner in the country. She’d worked with hundreds of celebrities, superstar athletes, and had even been an advisor for the royal wedding overseas.
Impeccably dressed in a dark gray suit and creamy colored blouse, she was wearing her brown hair in an asymmetrical bob that framed her heart shaped face.
“You want the ceremony to be outdoors facing the ocean, but you don’t want it to be within miles of anywhere that’s accessible to the public?” she asked, looking at me. “And you also don’t want it to be on a beach?”
“Right.”
“And you want the reception to be in an indoor facility that’s within walking distance from the ceremony space, but it has to have glass ceilings?”
“Correct.”
She took off her glasses and rubbed her forehead. “It also has to be in San Francisco?”
Jonathan spoke up. “We would prefer that.”
“Okay, well...I’m just going to be honest with you two. You may have to concede on a few things if you want to have it there.”
“A few things like what?” I raised my eyebrow.
“Well...” She walked over to the projector screen she’d set up on the other side of the room. She dimmed the lights and clicked her mini remote. “This is a picture of The Shores Resort. It’s a beachfront resort, but they have a huge ballroom with glass ceilings.”
She clicked again and another picture appeared onscreen. “This is La Santa Maria resort. It has a beautiful outdoor area that’s near the beach, but instead of sand there’s grass—which is what you want, but the ballroom doesn’t feature glass ceilings. It does have floor to ceiling glass walls though, and those walls are twenty feet high.”
One of her team members walked over and handed me a white binder.
“Inside that binder, you’ll find similar resorts that are just as grand.” Miss Corwin said. “They’re just as pricey, but they
’re only missing one of the things that you’re looking for.”
“Do they all have the grand steps for the reception?” I looked at Jonathan. “I want to enter the reception by walking down the steps, right before our first dance.”
“All the pages with the pink tabs have grand steps. The others have standard steps.”
“Okay.” I sighed. “Let me look...” I opened the binder and flipped through the pages relatively quick. All the venues were beautiful but they didn’t have everything I wanted, everything I’d dreamed about.
“What about this one?” Jonathan pointed at a page that featured a historic castle near the beach. It was gorgeous: Sun drenched stones, grand marble steps, but the ballroom didn’t have a glass ceiling and the outdoor area for the ceremony had more dirt than grass.
I shook my head and shut the binder. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t what I want...I don’t want to concede anything. If we move it to another city will our options be better?”
“Yes, Miss Gracen. They actually would. Let me show you those options.” She took a flash-drive out of her pocket and placed it into her laptop. “Let’s start with Los Angeles. If you look here at this resort—”
“Miss Corwin.” Jonathan cut her off. “You have a full staff of architects on your staff, correct?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll make sure that the gazebo you both want is constructed to perfection.”
“Actually...” He lifted my hand and kissed it. “I want you to build my fiancée’s dream wedding venue from the ground up. Give her whatever she wants.”
There was silence.
Ear deafening silence.
Everyone’s eyes widened—including mine, and all her staff members’ faces went white.
I looked over at him in shock, whispering, “No, that’s insane...You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s just like buying a car. It’s nothing.” He kissed me and turned his attention to Miss Corwin again. “You have a week to find a purchasable location site in San Fran, but I want the proposed budget on my desk by Monday and a list of all the building permits you’ll need. How long do you think construction will take?”
She blinked.
“It would take about eight to ten weeks once the permits cleared, sir.” One of her staff members spoke up. “We’d probably have to bring on another company to help, but depending on the height of the building, we’d also need a zoning clearance from the city. That takes months to get—sometimes years.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He didn’t seem fazed. “What’s next?”
“Um, well...” Miss Corwin slowly regained her composure. “We um...We need to discuss the more intricate aspects now...What color scheme did you have in mind for your special day?”
Jonathan looked over at me.
“I...” I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he was having my dream venue custom built. “I was thinking angel white and champagne as the main colors—with hints of blush-pink, ivory, and pastel yellow throughout. Nothing too heavy though; maybe a pop of color in the petals down the aisle or in the decorations at dinner, but not enough that it’ll take over the main colors.”
“That sounds beautiful, Miss Gracen.” She nodded. “We can fine tune the smaller things next week, but just so I have an idea about the bridal party numbers...” She clicked her pen. “Who is your maid of honor?”
“I have two. My daughters, Ashley and Caroline.”
“And how many bridesmaids will you have?”
“Three. My best friends—Sandra and Helen, and his sister, Hayley.”
“Thank you.” She scribbled their names down. “Mr. Statham, who is the best man and how many groomsmen will you have?”
“Corey Walters is the best man. I’ll have two groomsmen.”
“Very well. I’ll bring samples of your color choices next week. Oh, and while I’m searching for a place to build your venue, could you keep me informed about the status of your dress? I always like to match some of the floral arrangements to the theme of the bride’s attire if possible.”
“You’ve already bought your dress, correct?” Jonathan squeezed my hand.
“Not yet. I’m going shopping for it this weekend with my mom.”
He raised his eyebrow, but Miss Corwin kept talking. “I assume we’re going with black tuxedos for the groomsmen, Mr. Statham?”
“Yes.”
“Great! Well, since I have to find a place to build your venue, if you two don’t have any questions for me...” She looked back and forth between us, waiting for us to say something. “I’ll have the proposed budget for you on Monday, Mr. Statham. And Miss Gracen I look forward to seeing you again later.”
We both stood up and shook her hand, thanking all of her team members for having us on such short notice.
I helped them pack their binders and posters away, and traveled with them down to the lobby.
“Wait here,” Jonathan said to me as he escorted them outside to the waiting limo he’d ordered.
As soon as the car drove away, he walked up to me and pulled me into his arms. “Please tell me you were just being coy with her about your wedding dress.”
“Coy?”
“Is it hideous? Show me a picture of it and I’ll let you know my thoughts.”
“No...” I rolled my eyes. “I honestly don’t have it yet. I’m going shopping for it this weekend.”
“You told me you started shopping for your dress last weekend.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes. You did.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “That’s the reason why you came home late last Friday.” He pulled his phone out and scrolled through his texts. “Friday. Five forty eight pm: Jonathan, I’m going to be late for dinner tonight. I scheduled a late appointment with a dress boutique at six. I promise I’ll make it up to you—Claire.” He raised his eyebrow in anticipation of an answer.
“Okay...I did have an appointment, but it wasn’t at a dress shop.”
“You lied to me?”
“I couldn’t tell you what it was for because it’s...It’s for our anniversary.”
“So, you lied to me?” He pulled me even closer.
“Jonathan, it was a consultation appointment. After our anniversary, I’ll be happy to show you the timestamp on my receipt so you can see that I wasn’t lying to you. I did have something scheduled.”
He blinked. Then he stared into my eyes for a long time—not saying anything at all.
“Am I supposed to be staring back at you right now? Are we playing a game of some type?” I smirked. “First one to blink actually acts like an adult for the rest of the night?”
“Yes, future wife...” He tightened his grip around my waist. “We are going to play a game. It’s called, Jonathan is going to teach Claire a very strenuous lesson about lying to him...”
Chapter 6
Claire
I stood still in the center of a platform, trying my hardest not to roll my eyes. I was at a bridal boutique, patiently counting down the minutes until Greg drove me back home.
The dress I was trying on had been selected by my mother, so I was sure it looked terrible, but I’d appeased her and tried it on anyway.
“Please don’t drive Jonathan away like you did last year.” She zipped up the gown. “I almost smacked you for that. I ought to slap you right now for insurance, to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
I shook my head and looked at myself in the mirror. “That was over eight months ago.”
“I don’t care how long ago it was. If I had a hot, sexy billionaire chasing me like he chased you, I would have given in the moment he asked me out. Hell, I probably would have slept with him the first night too.”
“Thank you, mother.” I frowned at my gown’s neckline. “I’ll be sure to give that same advice to Ashley and Caroline one day...Anyway, I’m not sure if I like this dress. I don’t think he’ll like it either. There’s way too much beading across the top.”
There was act
ually way too much of everything on the dress. It covered every inch of me from the neck down; it had laced sleeves, a pleated waist, and enough beading for a kindergarten class to be entertained for a week.
“Well, I think it looks traditional,” she said. “You can never go wrong with traditional. I’m sure Jonathan will appreciate you in something like this.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Helen walked into the room and immediately shooed my mother away. “No disrespect, Ms. Gracen, but we’ll only be trying on dresses that were sewn in this century—preferably this decade.”
My mother huffed and headed back out into the boutique. As soon as she was gone, Helen placed a few new gowns against the rack.
I flipped one of the price tags over and held back a gasp: Seventy eight thousand dollars. I knew Jonathan didn’t care how much my dress would cost, but every dress in this store was a bit extreme.
“Are you excited?” Helen helped me out of the atrocity.
“I am...” I couldn’t help but smile. I went to sleep dreaming about our wedding every night.
“That’s good. You should be. And to celebrate this “tying yourself down” mess, I’m throwing you one hell of a bachelorette party. I’m almost done with the details, so if there are any people you want to invite, let me know. Make sure you tell them that everything is on me.”
“Oh, no.” I pulled the dress over my head. “That’s okay. I don’t really...”
“You don’t really what?”
“I don’t think I want a bachelorette party. I’d rather spend that time with Jonathan... I’ll be happy without one.”
“Claire...” She clutched her chest. “You are about to get married, which means that for the rest of your life—the rest of your life, you’re only going to be able to experience one cock. One. Cock.”
“Helen—”
“Do you know how depressing that is? Do you remember that day you told all of us that he proposed to you—the day you saw my tears? I wasn’t crying because I was happy. I was crying because I truly felt bad for you. I don’t care how good a man is in bed—that’s not enough to make me want to sleep with him for the rest of my life.”
“Are you going to be making a point any time soon?”
