“What’s the biggest city you’ve ever been in until now?” he asked.
“Des Moines,” she said.
Grant’s eyes widened. Then slowly his mouth lifted into a sexy smile. “This is going to be fun.”
“What is?”
“Spoiling you.”
She felt her stomach flip.
Yeah, see? That was also romantic.
Dammit.
Grant couldn’t believe how fun it was to spoil Jocelyn.
He’d bought things for women before. Of course. Occasionally. All right, usually it was just dinner. Tickets to shows once in a while. Sometimes flowers. Jewelry a couple of times.
Nothing compared to watching Jocelyn first step into the massive bedroom in the suite—it was one of two, but there was no way she was sleeping anywhere but in that master suite with him—and see the dress he’d had delivered for her.
Zoe, through Aiden, had helped him with the size, and he’d had Piper call and order something appropriate for a night out wining and dining—and getting married. Yeah, he’d had to confess to Piper that he and Jocelyn were eloping.
The thing about Piper was that nothing any of the guys did fazed her. Sure, it wasn’t usually Grant doing crazy, spontaneous things. He was sure she’d blinked a couple of times when he’d first made his request, trying to figure out if he was serious. But Grant was always serious. And as crazy as eloping with a woman he’d known for about a month was, it really wasn’t that nuts compared to some of the stuff Ollie and Dax had pulled. So Piper, being unflappable and amazing, had helped him with multiple last-minute details. A dress, a ring, flowers.
It was also the reason for his reaction when Whitney had texted him, This contest to find the new snack cake is out of hand. Already. We can’t do it. First he’d asked why, and she’d replied, Ollie is… a lot. Grant had simply laughed—because it was true—and replied, Get Piper to help you with Ollie. Hell, that’s what he would have done if he was there and was finding the project getting big and crazy. Whitney hadn’t been around Ollie long enough to understand that projects always got big and crazy when he was involved. She needed to learn now how to use all of the resources at her disposal. And Piper was definitely the best way to handle Ollie.
Piper could do anything. Even pull off a wedding with a few hours’ notice.
This wasn’t the wedding of Josie’s dreams. It wasn’t the forever wedding. But he wanted to make it nice for her. Something to make her smile. Something to make her even think back on it in the future as something a little more than a business arrangement to get her gall bladder fixed.
He didn’t spend time analyzing why he wanted this day to be a fond memory. He just did. So he was making it happen. With help.
Piper had been able to do everything but one major detail. That, he’d needed Cam for—getting Judge Warren Perkins to marry them after hours.
Thankfully, Cam wasn’t always an asshole. Or at least, he was an asshole to the right people, and Judge Perkins generally agreed that those people were assholes, so he and Cam were friends. Ish.
Jocelyn gasped and then spun to face him from the foot of the bed. Her hands were over her mouth, her eyes wide.
The dress was hanging from the outside of the armoire. It was white with shimmery threads of silver through it. The hem was uneven and would “swirl around her ankles,” according to Piper. It was a sheath dress so would fit to her body and fall straight to the ground. The bodice was a halter style that hooked behind her neck and left her shoulders and arms bare. There was also a light silvery shawl to go with it to keep her shoulders warm when they were outside or if there was a draft in the restaurant.
Grant knew next to nothing about dresses, but Piper had rattled all of that off to him as he’d looked at the photo she’d sent to his phone.
All he’d cared about was the look on Jocelyn’s face when she saw it. His instructions to Piper were, “something that will make her feel like a princess.”
“Oh my God, Grant!” Jocelyn’s hands finally fell to her sides, and she crossed to the dress. “This is completely gorgeous.”
“Good.” He crossed to the dresser and lifted the royal blue velvet box. He turned with it, opening the top when she looked over.
It was a diamond tiara. It was on loan from the jewelry store where he’d dropped more money than he should have on a ring. The jeweler had been happy to let him borrow the tiara for the evening.
Jocelyn gasped again.
“We have to give this back,” Grant said with a tiny smile. “But the dress is yours.”
She looked from the tiara to the dress then back again.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes that you’ll marry me. Tonight.” He set the tiara back on the dresser and reached into his pocket and withdrew the ring, holding it up.
She was going to get to keep the ring too. He was hoping she’d sell it, or maybe keep it in a safe deposit box as an insurance policy in case she ever needed it. He knew she wouldn’t take a stack of cash or a check from him, but he wanted to be sure she was taken care of even after her gall bladder was out and those bills were paid.
“Tonight?” She stared at the ring.
“I have a judge waiting in his chambers for us,” Grant said, stepping forward and taking her hand. “We can be Mr. and Mrs. Lorre by the time we go to the best dinner you’ve ever eaten, overlooking this gorgeous city.” He tugged her forward and slipped the ring halfway down her finger. “And then I’ll bring you back here to this suite, strip that dress off of you, and make you come on eight-hundred-thread-count satin sheets for the first time.”
She looked from the ring up to his eyes. Her lips tipped into a smile, and he was certain she had no idea how fucking sexy that smile was.
“Yes,” she said as she pushed her finger the rest of the way through the ring.
His heart thumped against his ribs, and he had to admit that no business deal had ever done that to him before.
“Get dressed,” he told her. “We have a date with a judge.”
“You’re wearing a tux, right?” she asked.
“I am, actually.” He’d wondered if it was overkill, but Piper had insisted he had to wear it, so he’d had his housekeeper deliver it from his apartment.
“Oh good,” Jocelyn said, her smile bright.
He lifted a brow. “Yeah?”
“Definitely. I can’t wait to see how hot you look in a tux.”
“You’ve thought about that?”
“Of course. And of getting you out of a tux.” Her smile was flirty and sexy.
He watched her move toward the dress and draw a finger down the front of it.
“I hope you’re okay with us taking dessert to go tonight,” he said, his voice husky.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Why is that?”
“I’d really love to cover you in chocolate again. On those eight-hundred-thread count sheets.”
But she shook her head. “Oh no, Mr. Lorre.”
“No?” He frowned.
“For one, I intend to roll all over those sheets and I don’t want them all messy. And two, that look on your face says there’s a chance this dress might get messy too, and there’s no way I’m letting that happen.” She turned back to the dress, stroking it again.
“I can make you not care about the sheets, and I can buy you another dress,” he practically growled.
“Nope. I want this one,” she said, not even looking back at him that time.
Feeling challenged, Grant crossed to where she was standing, in three long strides. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her back against him. “Or I could just keep you here now, tie you to that bed, order chocolate cake from room service, and make you come over and over again while looking at this dress from across the room.”
She pressed her ass against his cock. He was already getting hard just thinking about having her again. He’d truly been concerned last night, wanting her to rest, but she seemed fine toda
y, and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to wait until after her surgery. Unless she was actually in pain, of course.
“You would deny me the pleasure of this dress? And stripping me out of it?” she asked, wiggling her butt against him.
He moved his hand to cup her through her clothes, rubbing the heel of his hand against her clit. She gasped and he said against her ear, “There’s so much pleasure to come that I’m not worried.”
She leaned back into him, her hand covering his.
It was her left hand. The hand with the diamond ring now on it.
Something about that grabbed him in the gut and twisted. This felt so damned good.
Maybe it wasn’t till death—and they were going to have to leave that out of the vows because he didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep—but for however long it was going to be, he wanted it to be good.
He moved his hands. One slid up to cup her breast, teasing her nipple through the fabric of her dress. The other started bunching the skirt of the dress. He really loved that she wore dresses. It fit her. It was sweet and feminine. Jocelyn was smart and could be feisty, but she just wasn’t the power-suit type. And he liked that. If he wanted a woman who could wear the hell out of heels and pantsuits, he could pick from about forty contacts in his phone right now.
Jocelyn was softer but no less strong. She knew what she wanted, where her loyalties lay, what was worth fighting for. They were just very different things than he was used to.
“Hold it up,” he told her gruffly as her skirt bunched above her panties.
She did, gripping the fabric and letting her head fall back against his chest.
He slid his hand into her panties, finding her slick and hot.
Her moan as he grazed her clit shot straight to his cock. He pressed his middle finger against her clit and then slid into her tight heat. Her pussy gripped him and he pulled out, dragging his finger against her G-spot, then thrusting in again deep. He looked at her. Her eyes had drifted shut.
“Open your eyes and look at your wedding dress,” he told her.
He liked calling it that more than he should.
She did, focusing on the white sheath.
“Now tell me, if I wanted to fuck you while you were still wearing that, would you tell me no?” he asked, his thumb rubbing her clit as he added a second finger.
“Grant,” she gasped.
“Tell me, Jocelyn,” he growled. “If I wanted this sweet pussy while you were wearing the dress you’re going to become my wife in, would you deny me?”
Damn, he sounded like a freaking caveman. He felt like it too. She was going to become his wife legally, yes, but only legally. And only temporarily.
Why did it feel like all of this—the words wedding and wife and married—mattered so much?
He continued to stroke her, tugging on her nipple, his fingers thrusting deep. He put his mouth against her neck and kissed her.
“I wouldn’t be able to,” she finally said breathlessly. “I wouldn’t be able to say no.”
“Exactly,” he told her, feeling satisfaction rip through him. “Because you want me more than a damned dress.”
“Yes,” she gasped, gripping his wrist where he was thrusting into her. “Yes.”
“Good. Don’t forget that.” He pulled his hand away from her body.
She wobbled a little as he let her go. Once he knew she was upright to stay, he turned toward the bathroom, with a little smirk.
Three.
Two.
One.
“Grant!”
He looked back but continued toward the bathroom. “Yes?”
“You… that was… you stopped!”
“Yes. But I didn’t stop until I made my point.”
“Your point?” Her voice rose on the last word. “That’s what that was?”
“Of course.”
“Of course?”
He wouldn’t have been surprised if she stamped her foot. He hid his grin by ducking into the bathroom. He washed his hands—though really he wanted to lick every drop of sweetness from his fingers and then put his face between her legs and lick her until she came hard and loud.
Then he walked back into the bedroom, drying his hands with the hand towel.
Her cheeks were pink—partially from lust and probably partially from anger—and her eyes were bright.
“That was mean.” She crossed her arms.
“It wasn’t as mean as telling me that you were more concerned about keeping the dress clean than you were about fucking me on our wedding night,” he told her.
He tossed the towel back in on the counter next to the sink and then crossed his arms as well.
“I never said I wouldn’t do that,” she said, her chin lifting.
“You said you wouldn’t let me cover you in chocolate,” he pointed out.
“But that’s…” She shook her head and then laughed softly. “That’s a deal breaker, huh?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe.”
“Or is it that you’re just so used to getting your way that you’ll dig in on even the smallest thing?” she asked, walking toward him.
“I do really like getting my way.”
“So maybe I need to show you that letting me have my way sometimes is good too.”
“Not if it means—”
But she reached behind her and unzipped her dress then, and Grant forgot what he was about to say. The dress dropped to a little puddle of pale-blue-with-yellow-flowers fabric at her feet. She stepped out of it and reached to unhook her bra. That also fell to the floor.
Grant’s mouth went dry. He had to adjust his fly as his cock realized that maybe it didn’t have to wait until after dinner.
That had absolutely been the plan. It had been a good one too. Sweet. Romantic. Wait until they were married, wine and dine her, carry her over the threshold, all of that.
But while Jocelyn Asher was definitely sweet and romantic, she wasn’t only that, and he should probably remember that.
“I’m just trying to show you that letting me get completely naked before you fuck me would be fine too,” she said.
“I—” Grant had no idea what he’d thought he was going to say.
She smiled as if she knew she was short-circuiting his brain and went to the foot of the bed. She reached for the duvet, sweeping it to the side. Then she ran her hand over the top sheet. “Eight-hundred count, huh?” she asked, looking back at him.
He’d been studying the way that position made her breasts swing and the curve of her ass. He met her gaze. “Yeah.” He didn’t give a fuck about the sheets.
“I bet these feel amazing on bare skin.” She stood and hooked her fingers in the tops of her panties, pushing them over her hips and down her legs.
As she bent to unhook them from her foot, Grant caught a gorgeous glimpse of the pink between her legs.
Yeah, this woman was going to get anything and everything she ever wanted from him. And she knew it. And he didn’t care.
“You could stay just like that,” he said, pulling the belt from his pants.
She looked back. And shook her head. “I want to feel these amazing sheets. All over me.”
He stalked toward her, but she’d already sat down and then lay back. She stretched, rubbing her body—her completely naked, mouth-wateringly gorgeous body—over the sheets like a cat.
“Oh, Grant, you’re right. These are amazing.”
He threw his belt to the side, toed off his shoes, tossed a condom onto the mattress next to her hip, shrugged out of his shirt, and unzipped his pants. Then he grabbed one of her ankles and tugged her twisting body to the end of the bed. “Come here.”
“Okay.” She gave him a sweet smile.
Sweet, his ass. She knew she had him wrapped around her finger, and she was loving every second of it.
Well, so was he.
He shoved his pants to the floor and gave his cock a firm stroke. He watched her watching his hand on his cock. Maybe he needed to
regain a little of the upper hand here.
“Come here,” he said in a low, firm voice.
“I’m pretty much here,” she said, moving one of her thighs to the side, giving him a heart-stopping view. She even ran a finger over her clit.
Oh, he could watch that all day.
He reached for her hand, pressing it more firmly against her pussy. “More.”
She rubbed again, then dipped lower. Her breathing hitched, and her other hand found her breast, tugging on the nipple.
“God, yes. Fucking gorgeous,” he told her.
She moved her legs restlessly. “I want you, Grant.”
“You can have me,” he told her, running her finger down and pressing it into her pussy.
“Now. Please.”
“Give me your mouth,” he told her, meeting her eyes.
Her pupils dilated and she nodded. She rolled to her stomach and moved to the end of the mattress as he took his cock in hand again. He guided the head to her mouth and she dutifully opened.
“Fuck, Jocelyn. Yesss,” he hissed as his head slid between her lips.
Her smaller hand wrapped around his base as she licked his crown, then sucked slightly on the tip.
“Harder, honey,” he urged, placing his hand around hers and his other hand on the back of her head.
She sucked harder and then opened her mouth wider, letting him slide deeper.
He felt the heat and pleasure to the soles of his feet. Grant gritted his teeth, holding back from thrusting hard into her throat.
He cupped her head and kept hold of his cock giving her only a few inches. But her greedy mouth, the way she licked and sucked and moaned around him, made it the best blow job he’d ever had. She was enthusiastic, if not overly skilled, and just being here with her, the way she’d turned the tables on him, the way she flirted and teased and seemed to relish being able to make him growl and get graphic, made this all so different, and so much more than it had ever been before.
“Need you.” He pulled his cock from her mouth and flipped her backward.
“Yes,” she agreed, spreading her legs and reaching for him.
But he wanted to see every inch of her. “Like this.” He cupped her ass and brought her to the very edge of the mattress so that he was standing and she was laid out on her back on the bed. Taking in every glistening, sweet, pink inch of her, he donned the condom, and then sank into her slowly.
Making Whoopie (Hot Cakes Book 3) Page 17
