That was exactly what I planned to do. Glad we were on the same page.
Though plan wasn’t quite the right word for what was going on with me at the moment. My body was just moving on its own, rocking steadily, trying to ease the ache between my legs, trying to rub against the firm thickness anchored beneath me.
But nothing was enough.
I twisted and circled my hips. I writhed. I let go of his shoulder and grabbed my breast with one hand, brushing across my nipple with my thumb. Everything I did only made the buzz louder, the hum in my veins more intense.
I’d forgotten about the glass windows and the crowds below. The performance was no longer for anyone but me. The end goal wasn’t about looking like one of Weston’s girls—it was about becoming one of them.
But I was aimless and an amateur, and I needed help.
“Tell me what you’re doing to me,” I begged. “Tell me what you would be doing to me right now.”
“I’m so deep inside you,” he said without any hesitation. “I’m balls deep, my dick is touching the very end of you.” His hips bucked up, and I wondered if he knew he was even doing it. “I have my hand under your skirt and I’m rubbing your clit in tight circles, and it’s driving you insane. You’re so wet that my thumb keeps sliding off your nub.” His voice was strained as he talked, and I could hear his fingernails digging into the bench on either side of us, clawing into the upholstery.
God I wanted him to touch me. If he touched me I’d explode. I was already so close.
“Then I grab your ass to pull you closer, so I can fuck you even deeper, and you tilt your hips up slightly. I tell you to touch yourself because you’re on the edge and I want you to come for me. I want you to come when I tell you. Come all over my goddamn cock until you’re shuddering and writhing and gasping for air. Do it, Elizabeth. Come all over me. Do it now.”
I closed my eyes, but all I could see was light behind my lids, bright starbursts sprayed across the darkness. My hand fell back to his shoulder in an attempt to steady myself as a torpedo-strength orgasm ripped through me, splitting my insides, leaving me shaking and trembling and moaning out in ecstasy.
I threw my head back and called his name once before falling forward, limp and spent.
What the fuck just happened?
I hadn’t even caught my breath yet when I flung my head up again, shock and horror surely written all over my face. Fortunately I found only another full-dimple smile on his.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” I said.
“It’s okay. Really. You were great.”
I scrambled up to my feet and smoothed my dress down as if I could hide my entire being with the movement. I couldn’t help it. My eyes wandered down to his pants that were still straining at the zipper. His eyes followed mine to the wet spot that now darkened the material. A wet spot I had clearly left behind.
If it were possible to die from humiliation, I would have right about now.
“You know what? That’s hot.” The rasp in Weston’s voice suggested that he wouldn’t mind if I got more of him wet.
And even having just finished coming down from the best orgasm of my life, there was a part of me that wouldn’t mind getting more of him wet myself.
I met his eyes. There was no way he wasn’t thinking the same thing I was thinking. We were already here. We were already about to be engaged. We were obviously into each other.
“It wouldn’t be a good idea,” I said, yet for the life of me I couldn’t think of any reason why it wouldn’t. Sure, I’d never fooled around with a man just for the fun of it, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t start now. The words were already out of my mouth though, so now all I could do was wait and see how he reacted.
“Right,” he agreed. “It would be a terrible idea.”
“Because it would just complicate things,” I said.
“Exactly. We’re stuck together for the better part of a year. If we crossed this line now, we couldn’t go back. And that would be a long time to have to be around each other afterward. As you said, it would complicate things.”
“Right. Glad you see it the way I do.” I swallowed, grateful that my voice hadn’t caught. I understood what he was saying, but it sounded a lot like an excuse. A nice way of saying I’m not really that interested.
My throat suddenly felt tight and my eyes began to sting. This was the downside of being one of Weston’s girls, I realized. Any night of fun would end in being casually dismissed.
How did his usual dates handle it so gracefully?
Probably they knew it was always coming, which I should’ve known too, but where rejection was concerned, I was already a bruise that refused to heal. I’d been overlooked too much of my life by the only man who’d ever really been important to me. My father had wounded me, and any other rejection felt like fingers pressing against purple and black skin, and I recoiled from the pain.
Also, I was a little bit angry at Weston now that I thought about it. How was this behavior supposed to sell me as a businesswoman? It had been my idea to give the performance, but Weston had been the one to say I needed to do a better job of selling myself as a smart, competent woman, one worthy of running the Dyson empire. How could he let me do this with him? Slutting it up only justified my father’s points. And now I was going to be all over the Internet, and the headlines weren’t going to convince anyone of anything except that Weston King gave good orgasms.
I had to keep my head in the game. The long game. Proving our relationship would be pointless if I didn’t prove myself first.
Which was why I couldn’t have sex with Weston. That was the reason.
It was also why nothing like this could ever happen again. Not even for the show. It shouldn’t need to now anyway. If we were truly dating, we might have engaged in the same behavior he had with women of the past in our earlier days, but as I’d told him, I was supposed to be different. I was the girl he married—not the girl he fucked in a bubble room then never called again.
It was time for me to take charge.
I lifted my chin and cleared my throat. “Hopefully that display was convincing. Because we’re not doing that again. We’ll come back to The Sky Launch every Friday night, since it’s your hangout. We’ll let ourselves be seen here, but when we get to this room we’ll turn the privacy windows on.” I stared at him head-on to make sure he understood what I was saying. “Once we are engaged, the world doesn’t need to know what we are doing in here anyway.”
“Uh, okay,” he said, obviously caught off guard. He shifted in his seat, reminding me he was still...uncomfortable. “You just want to come have drinks every week?”
“You can use that time to teach me the business like you promised,” I said coldly. I didn’t give him a chance to disagree. “I’m going to go to the restroom now and clean up. That will give you some time to take care of your little...problem.”
I turned before he could say anything and headed for the exit, but I heard him call after me, “It’s not little!”
I could tell it wasn’t, just from the shape I’d rubbed against. Weston was packing, there was no doubt about that.
But I wasn’t in the mood to give him any less rejection than what I’d felt. I swiveled my head in his direction, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “I guess I’ll never know, will I?”
With those parting words, I left the bubble room.
Chapter Seven
“You going to tell me what you’re moping about today?”
I glanced up at Donovan who was flipping through LeeAnn Gregori’s portfolio while we waited for Elizabeth to arrive for our meeting with the famed wedding planner.
What the hell did he mean by moping? I glanced down at my body language— my arms folded, my shoulders hunched.
My frown deepened.
I was irritated, that’s what I was. And I had been for the last several weeks, the source of my irritation none other than my bride-to-be. For the last month we’d played the fake courting game, goi
ng to lunch at least once a week, where we usually ended up bickering about restaurants or menu items, and attending the symphony where I always fell asleep before intermission.
Then every Friday night we’d returned to The Sky Launch where she’d sat so perfectly innocent beside me, asking questions about mergers and stock options while her lids fluttered as she thought. And each time I was forced to give her knowledgeable answers when all I could think about was pulling her back onto my lap. Making her hips grind against my dick the way they had that first night, when she was putting on a show. I wanted to make her grind against my dick for real.
I hadn’t changed my mind about what I’d said—fucking was a bad idea. It would make things messy, and I didn’t do messy. She’d already proven that she couldn’t mix sex with business by how she’d acted immediately after. One orgasm and she’d turned cold and snide, shoving her nose up as though what we’d done was dirty or beneath her. Imagine how she would have reacted if I’d treated her to a night at the Weston Inn. Dirt and filth were the house specialty—money back guaranteed.
But it didn’t change the fact that I was still attracted to her, that I still thought about her pouty lips and perky round breasts, that I could still remember the scent of her arousal drifting in the air as she pressed her pussy against my straining cock. Fuck, if I didn’t hear those breathy little moans in my sleep, and the way her face twisted in pleasure as she called out my name haunted me when I sat at my desk trying to concentrate on marketing conversion rates. My hand was getting such a workout from the memories that I wouldn’t be surprised if I got carpal tunnel before our marriage was through.
None of this was anything I was going to admit to Donovan, though, because that asshole was the reason I was in this shitty situation in the first place. I was starting to believe my misery was his form of entertainment, and I wasn’t giving him anything I didn’t have to.
“I’m not moping.” Shit, even I could hear the scowl in my tone.
“Good. Brooding looks much better on me than it does on you.” Donovan shut the portfolio and crossed one leg over the other at the knee.
I clenched my fist, but took a breath so I wouldn’t be tempted to punch him.
“She’s late,” I said, when I was calm. We’d been waiting in the lounge for ten minutes, but Donovan knew I was speaking about Elizabeth and not LeeAnn Gregori, though technically she was late as well.
“She’s probably in traffic. It’s rush hour in New York City. No one’s on time.”
That was Donovan, always making excuses for her. “You really should’ve been the one to marry her,” I grumbled, the thought making my stomach turn in weird strange ways.
He shook his head and opened his mouth, but before he could give me his usual spiel, I added, “People would have bought it.”
“I was about to say that I don’t really care for the girl.”
My jaw dropped, and I stammered wordlessly for several seconds. “What?” I finally managed. “What does that have to do with anything?” As if I cared for the girl.
He narrowed his eyes in my direction. “Do you really want me to prove that you like her more than I do?”
I hesitated. Because...could he? Prove it?
Of course he couldn’t prove it. He was bluffing, as always. I didn’t like her better. I barely liked her at all.
But Donovan was good with his propaganda. So it was best not to let him speak, best to drop it.
Except I didn’t want him thinking I actually liked Elizabeth.
Which made it a good time to tell him my other news.
I sat forward and rested my elbows on my thighs. “I officially offered the marketing job to Sabrina Lind today,” I announced.
His chin tilted up ever so slightly. “Oh?”
“I should have done it a long time ago. Robbie will be leaving for London in three weeks, and we need the spot filled. I’ve just been busy, I guess.” Busy playing boyfriend to Elizabeth. Spending all my time focused on her had made it difficult to remember why I’d wanted Sabrina to transfer to New York so badly in the first place.
“What did she say?” Donovan asked, seeming only slightly interested. It was a rather important position in the firm, though, so he was surely cataloguing it somewhere in his brain.
“She said yes. We have to work out the transfer package and help her find a place to live. She’ll be here in a month.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he said quickly. Then he changed the subject abruptly. “I have news as well.”
“Oh?” I tilted my head back toward him.
“I’ve decided I’m staying. Cade has a handle on the Tokyo office. New York City seems to need me. I’ll stay and take on operations.”
That was so Donovan. Making all the decisions for the firm without asking anyone else’s opinion. Not that I wasn’t glad to have him here. The work had grown to be too much for Nate and me, and I really didn’t give a fuck about operations. Just, it would be nice to have a say in things every once in awhile.
I pretended it didn’t bother me. “Great. Glad you decided to stay.”
Before anything else could be said about it, the doors opened to the waiting room. We both looked up expectantly, hoping to see Elizabeth, but in walked a middle-aged woman with blond hair streaked with gray, skin freckled from too much sun, and the purplest eyeshadow I’d ever seen on someone not in drag. She was dressed in business casual, which still meant lots of bling, and platform heels covered in rhinestones. Apparently this was LeeAnn Gregori.
“Gentlemen!” she exclaimed, and then her brows furrowed. “I’m sorry,” she looked down at the tablet she was carrying. “I had noted that I was meeting with a bride and groom. Not a groom and groom.”
“The bride’s not here yet,” I said as quickly as I could. Not that there was anything wrong with a groom and groom getting married, but there was no way anyone was groom and grooming me with Donovan. I had my manhood to defend.
“I see. Well, in that case,” she took a step forward, her hand out, “I’m LeeAnn.”
“I’m Donovan Kincaid,” he said, rushing in before I could introduce myself. “This is Weston King, the groom. Elizabeth Dyson is the bride. She’s running late. Also, as we mentioned on the phone with you, this wedding is on a very tight deadline. We are looking at a December date, but it will be a very large affair. Money is not an issue; we’re quite prepared to pay whatever is needed. Tell us what we can do in that amount of time.”
“Yes, yes, we can do something spectacular in that amount of time… Tell me again what your relationship is to this wedding, Mr. Kincaid?”
I bit back a smile. It was always a highlight of my day to watch Donovan get questioned on his authority. It actually brightened my mood quite a bit.
Just then, Elizabeth burst in. She was out of breath and her face was flushed from rushing. My cock jumped in my pants, remembering that she’d looked that way when she’d come on my lap, tempting me into another fantasy of putting that look on her face in other ways.
“Hello, I’m sorry I’m so late. I’m Elizabeth Dyson.” She held her hand out to LeeAnn. “You must be the wedding planner. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re quite famous among my mother’s friends.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Dyson. I’m honored to work with someone so notable as well. We were just discussing what Mr. Kincaid’s involvement was in your wedding to Mr. King?” LeeAnn shifted her eyes from Elizabeth to me.
Elizabeth slipped in between me and Donovan, looping an arm around me as she placed a hand on my partner’s arm. “Oh, Donovan is my life coach. I don’t do anything without his say-so. I invited him here to advise us. I hope that’s not going to be a problem?”
I couldn’t decide if I was impressed at how easily Elizabeth could act on her feet, or if I was annoyed at how eagerly she covered for Donovan.
And why was Donovan here anyway? Didn’t he think we could handle this on our own? Or did he just insist on having his fingers in every pie?
Though I had to admit, it was really nice to have somebody else handle all the big details of a wedding I didn’t give a shit about. Almost as nice as watching his face as it registered with him that he’d just been demoted from Fortune 500 company owner to life coach.
“Not a problem at all,” LeeAnn said congenially. “If everyone is here, let’s sit down and start planning, shall we?”
We sat down and LeeAnn filled out a few initial details about us in her tablet. Then we jumped right into making arrangements.
Immediately, we hit a snag.
“I do not think we should have the engagement party at The Sky Launch,” Elizabeth said patronizingly.
“What’s wrong with The Sky Launch? It’s our place, honey.” I made my voice sticky sweet, playing the part of fiancé. “We’re there every week, after all.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s your place. How many other women have you taken there? Need I remind you of all the videos on YouTube? Half our guests will be attending and remembering their own trysts with you!”
I rolled my eyes and looked to Donovan, then to LeeAnn. “It’s not like I’m actually inviting ex-girlfriends to the engagement party.” Well, I’d slept with so many women, it was kind of impossible not to invite a few. Or, okay, a lot. “There won’t be that many of them,” I amended.
“I would tend to agree with Elizabeth on this one,” LeeAnn, the traitor, began, “but unfortunately on such short notice, there aren’t many other available places that will hold four hundred to five hundred guests. Unless you want to book the Marriott, I could maybe get—“
“Ew, no. Not the Marriott.” It was Elizabeth’s turn to look to Donovan.
“Considering the circumstances, Elizabeth,” his subtext was clear—fake arranged marriage was the circumstance, “I think The Sky Launch is a perfect venue for the engagement party.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “But I want to be in charge of the music.”
LeeAnn interjected before I had a chance to give my opinion on the matter. “I think that’s a fair compromise. Moving on.”
Girl Meets Billionaire Page 162
