Reluctant Bride

by Sam Crescent

  “Fuck, Cora, you feel so goddamn good.”

  When he starts to rise, I whimper and try to hold him to me. But he kisses me again, eliciting delightful moans as he begins to thrust, his speed increasing with each movement. He pumps harder, deeper, and I know we both need this wild abandonment, this explosive fucking, if only to take the edge off. Because I also know there’s much more in store for us tonight. We’ve been building toward this moment for some time, and it’s finally here.

  As if reading my mind, he says, “Damn, I’m a lucky bastard. You’re finally mine.” He never hesitates in his movements as he continues to slam his body into mine, hitting me perfectly until I’m right on the edge of orgasm.

  Somehow, I manage to chuckle between gasps as I respond. “I’m sure your parents would frown on you calling yourself a bastard.”

  Theo’s eyes narrow as he grinds into me. “And I frown on thoughts of my parents in your head while I’m fucking you.”

  I wrap my legs around his back, using the leverage to grind into him as I meet every delicious thrust. “Then take my mind off everything but you,” I tease.

  “With pleasure,” he says as his speed increases to what should be an impossible pace. But I love it. The force of his body banging into mine sets off the spark that throws me into a mind-melting climax. I cry out as my body trembles and my pussy spasms around his cock, spurring his release. He groans as he collapses onto me, the weight of his body comforting instead of oppressive. While shudders wrack our bodies, Theo nuzzles my ear as I bite his shoulder, loving the salty taste of his warm skin.

  “Mine,” he whispers before peppering kisses along my temple and jaw. He then latches on to my mouth and I can’t help the moan that escapes. His kisses truly are divine.

  When he pulls away to look at me, a sexy smile graces his luscious mouth.

  “I love you, Cora Spears.”

  My heart flutters as I return his smile. “And I love you, husband of mine.”

  His cock pulses inside me, hardening and springing back to life while Theo flexes his hips, grinning mischievously at me.

  I laugh. “Who knew older men had such stamina?”

  His eyes darken as he slowly withdraws only to slam into me again. “I’ll show you stamina.”

  I lose my breath for a moment as he continues his pleasurable assault, yet somehow, I manage to say, “I’m looking forward to it.”

  The End

  Explore more books by Laura M. Baird

  HIS LOVE CONTRACT

  Helen Walton

  Copyright © 2021

  Chapter One

  If this jerkwad rich businessman, too good-looking for his own good, with his decadent coffee-brown, slick hair, thought he could get me fired without karma biting him on his tight ass, then he could think again.

  I waited in the dry summer heat on the Los Angeles sidewalk in front of Burberry’s Bistro, case in one hand, ketchup bottle in the other, for his chauffeured silver Mercedes Benz C-Class to arrive. Any minute now revenge would be mine.

  The sleek car rounded the corner. The Mercedes was almost as sexy as the man about to climb in. Too bad I was about to ruin the car, but … a wicked smirk stretched my lips. I had nothing left to lose today. The car stopped in front of me. I took it as a sign and popped the lid on the ketchup bottle. With a fling of my wrist, red splashed across the side of the Mercedes.

  I flicked my wrist the other way, putting a line across the top of the other and making a J. E was easy, but the R took me longer than I hoped. I flung two lines for the K and giggled at my handiwork. One stroke left and the jerk would see he was a jerk, and so would all the city.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Startled in my last stroke, I splattered red ketchup on the man beside me. He scowled and grabbed my wrist, then tugged the ketchup bottle from my fingers. I glared into the dark, penetrating eyes of the jerk whose car I’d marked for all to see. The man who’d been my best customer in the bistro until today. Under his warm hand, the pulse in my wrist thudded frantically, part anger, part shock at being caught, and awareness of the man I’d fantasized about for months.

  “I asked you a question.”

  I yanked my hand, but he didn’t let go.

  “It’s obvious.” I nodded my head toward his car marked with the word jerk.

  “And why, pray tell, are you vandalizing my property?” He raised a dark eyebrow over his intense, dark-brown eyes.

  “You made me get fired,” I spat. Literally.

  He wiped the spit from his jacket. His eyes widened at the bright red drops of ketchup splashed across his white shirt. Then he met my glare head-on. “You ordered the wrong meal, then blamed me when I returned the food to the kitchen.”

  “You never change your daily orders.”

  He frowned. “I don’t?”

  “No, and I’m having a bad day, so sue me for getting your order wrong. Once! Oh, wait, you got me fired instead.”

  His gaze dropped to my heaving chest at my outburst. “Too bad I’m having a bad day too,” he said.

  “No need to take it out on me.”

  His eyes glittered with repressed anger while he yanked open the car door. “Get in.”

  “What?” I jerked my arm, but he held it firm in his warm hand.

  “Get in the car, Prue.”

  I gasped. “You know my name?”

  “Of course, I know your name. It’s Prue Aurilio. I own the damn bistro.”

  “Shit, you’re William Burberry the fourth? No one told me in the six months I’ve worked here.”

  “Yes, six months I’ve watched you prance around, pretending to be a waitress.”

  “Pretending?” I narrowed my eyes.

  A tiny twitch of his lips pulled them up into a slight smile. “Get in the car. We need to discuss how you’ll pay off your act of vandalism.”

  “Uh-uh.” I wriggled in his grip.

  “Would you prefer me to call the police? I’m sure I can get you arrested, too.”

  “Suits me.” I gave up my wriggling. “At least then I’d have somewhere to sleep tonight.”

  His gaze dropped to the case in my other hand. “For Christ’s sake, just get in the damn car before I…”

  “Before you what?” I raised an eyebrow, provoking the man. William Burberry. The man I’d lusted after for months. The man I’d served lunch to for months. My fantasies threw wild images of us together whenever I thought of him, and his firm grip on my wrist fueled them further.

  Now wasn’t the time for those thoughts.

  He tugged me closer and whispered, “Before I place you over my knees and spank your round ass until your pale skin is the same shade of red as the ketchup on my car.”

  My breathing raced even more. The image danced in my head. Of William, in his impeccable blue suit and purple necktie, while I lay across his knees in my tight black work skirt. Warmth pooled in my stomach and lower, encouraging my fantasies even more.

  His gaze shifted to my lips. A sudden wildness poured from the man underneath the suit. I shifted closer, drawn even more by the beast inside the businessman.

  He released my wrist and waved at the open car door. “After you.”

  Shit. What choice did I have? What choice appealed to me? A cold jail cell for the rest of the day and night, or whatever William Burberry thought I should do to pay off my vandalism. If he wanted to spank me, then I’d take it from Mr. Too Good-Looking For His Own Good and enjoy every smack. Hell, I’d fantasized about him spanking me enough.

  I moved to the car with an unhurried air, attempting to pretend his words didn’t make me even hotter for him. William grabbed the case from my hand and threw it in the trunk of the Mercedes. He slid into the car, so close to me his thick, suited thigh brushed against my bare leg under my skirt, sending a tingle over my skin. I scooted to the other side of the car and buckled my seatbelt before I begged him to follow through with his words.

  William pressed a button on the armrest a
nd spoke into the speaker to the driver on the other side of the partition. “Gabe, take us to my house.”

  “Sir, you have an appointment in half an hour,” Gabe replied through the speaker system.

  “Call my secretary and cancel it, and all my appointments for the rest of the day.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  William tapped his fingers on his thigh. The thigh that had brushed up against mine. I dug my fingers into my palms to stop fantasizing about him in inappropriate ways, now he was the reason the manager at the bistro fired me.

  Six months of servicing him in the bistro under his intense gaze had left me with an ache I couldn’t make go away. His rich aftershave filled the car. I’d caught whiffs of the scent in the bistro. Would he spank me? I clenched my legs together.

  His head swung my way. “What am I going to do with you?”

  My heart pounded. I could suggest a few things, but he was no doubt talking about his car.

  “I could wash the car to get rid of the ketchup.”

  He raised his hand to his cobalt-blue suit jacket buttons and slid them open. The white shirt underneath clung to his body like a second skin. I wanted him to keep going with the buttons so I could see if his chest was smooth or scattered with dark hair. I squeezed my eyes like I could see through the material to the man underneath.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Huh? What?” I sat up straighter. “Nothing.”

  His lips twitched with a slight smile again.

  I twisted to the window and watched the city buildings pass by. Before too long, the car pulled into a driveway to a mansion. A freaking white three-story mansion. I’d a hunch he was rich, but not filthy rich. Guess the fourth after his name should have told me.

  The car stopped, the door opened, and William stepped out.

  “Gabe, take the Merc and Miss Prue out the back so she can wash the car.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Wait.” I slid across the smooth leather car seat.

  William ducked his head through the door. “Come see me in my office when you’re finished.” He slammed the door in my face.

  Jerkwad.

  Why was I attracted to him? It wasn’t like I knew his jerkiness when I’d lusted after him in the bistro. The attraction was physical. The pull of his suits over his shoulders, the sinful curve of his lips, the smoothness of his voice when he ordered his meals, and his warm voice when he thanked me for his meals. And when he asked me how my day was, I’d felt a little special, like someone cared about me for once.

  Gabe parked the car in front of the massive garage behind the mansion. I climbed out, eager to get this ordeal over with, and find somewhere to sleep tonight.

  “You should wait for me to get the door, Miss Prue.”

  Gabe fiddled with his black necktie inside his black suit. He was almost as impeccably dressed as William, except Gabe was nowhere near as attractive as William, and he was older with salt-and-pepper hair.

  “No need.” I shut the door. “I’m not special, and I’ll be out of here as soon as I wash the ketchup from the car.”

  “If you say so,” Gabe said and walked to the garage.

  I followed him. “What do you mean?”

  “Not a thing.” He poured carwash into a bright blue pail, placed a yellow sponge inside, and handed them to me. “Hose is there.” He pointed to the hose connected to the side of the garage.

  “That’s it?” I asked.

  “Nice artwork.” He grinned.

  I laughed.

  “His office is through the kitchen.” Gabe pointed to the door at the back of the mansion. “Down the hallway, third door on the left.”

  “You expect me to just walk in his house?”

  “No, miss. William expects it.” Gabe dipped his head and disappeared inside the cavernous garage.

  I could grab my case and leave. William wouldn’t be able to find me now. I had no job or home. I tried the door handle. Locked. I picked up the sponge. The sooner I washed the car, the sooner I’d see William and leave. With a swipe of my hand, the first red smear smudged on the sponge. Ketchup and carwash mingled in a sweet and soapy tomato aroma and turned the water in the pail to pink.

  A wicked thought formed.

  If William expected me in his office, he’d get me in his office with a pail full of pink, soapy water. I’d teach the arrogant jerk not to mess with me once and for all. I picked up the long hose and rinsed the car, humming to myself.

  “Great job, miss,” Gabe said. “Here’s the chamois.”

  “I have to dry the car, too?” I pouted.

  Gabe left with a chuckle. I clearly amused the man. No doubt they didn’t get many unemployed waitresses in this house. I swiped the chamois across the sleek silver paint. The action was rather soothing to my churning emotions. When I was finished, I picked up the pail and carried the soapy pink water to the house.

  I eased open the kitchen door and peeked inside. A bright white and stainless-steel kitchen beckoned me to race through with the pail in case I spilled any on the immaculate surfaces. I hugged the pail to my chest and tiptoed through the kitchen. No matter how slowly I sneaked, my wet shoes squeaked on the white floor tiles. I continued tiptoeing down the hallway, counting off the doors. At the third door on the left, I stopped before the open doorway and peered around the door jamb.

  “What are you up to, Prue?” William’s deep voice wafted from behind me.

  I jumped a mile into the air, spilling half the contents of the pail over the front of my shirt. “Shit.”

  William’s lips kicked up into a grin and he chuckled at my expense. “Did I ruin your plans for the pail?”

  “I … no … I wanted to show you the car is clean.”

  “With a pail of dirty water?” He cocked his left eyebrow. “And here I thought you wanted to dump it on my head.” He rested his hand on the door jamb and moved closer to me. “Shame.”

  I breathed in his alluring scent. “Shame?”

  His gaze dipped to my wet shirt and my cold, hard nipples.

  “I thought you had spunk.” He pushed off the door jamb and moved to the chair behind his desk. “Your case is in the downstairs guest bedroom, fourth door on the right. Go clean yourself up, then we’ll talk.”

  He picked up a pen and dropped his attention to the papers in front of him.

  I lifted the pail. It’d be so easy to walk into his office and dump the rest of the contents on his head.

  “Only do it if you can handle the consequences,” William said without looking up.

  The man was so arrogant and smug. I wanted to do it, to mess up his pristine suit and to find out what consequences he’d dish out. But a shower would be good before I left to wander the streets of Los Angeles. I put the pail on the floor and spun around with a huff. A cold shiver danced over my wet front.

  Was the cooling system set to arctic?

  The fourth door on the right wasn’t far from William’s office. I opened the door to an opulent bedroom decorated in soft white linens and scatter pillows of royal blue. At the foot of the bed sat a pair of white sofa chairs, and a flat-screen television hung from the wall. After toeing off my wet shoes at the door, I padded across the soft beige carpet, my toes digging into the thickness of the pile, and opened the restroom door. The large shower drew me. I stripped off my wet white—now pink—shirt, and knee-length black pencil skirt, peeling my damp panties off, too. The pile ended up on the floor, but I didn’t care. I didn’t need them for work at the bistro anymore. They could stay here, and he could burn the uniform for all I cared.

  The steam rose from the massive showerhead. I stepped under the pelting spray and washed with the small bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Each product no doubt cost more than the full-size ones I bought. The ones I’d left behind in my former apartment in the rush to pack and leave.

  I stayed under the water longer than necessary. What does Mr. Too Good-Looking want to talk about? I’d cleaned my vandalism fro
m his car, no harm with the ketchup. It wasn’t like I’d spray-painted his car. I left the shower and dried with the softest towel I’d ever used, dropped it on the floor alongside my clothes, and padded into the bedroom and my case on the bed. Rummaging in my case, I produced my comfy clothes, a pair of black leggings and a baggy band t-shirt.

  I hoisted my case off the bed, picked up my damp canvas work shoes, and made my way back to William’s office. He continued to scribble on the paperwork in front of him and didn’t acknowledge my arrival. I sank into a chair opposite him at his desk, dropped my case and shoes beside me, and then kicked my feet up on his desk.

  He lifted his glittering gaze to my feet.

  “So, what do you want to talk about?”

  Chapter Two

  William folded his arms across his crisp white shirt, minus the ketchup spots. Since I’d splashed him with ketchup, he’d changed and removed his jacket. He looked every bit the model for a fashion shoot with his dark hair highlighted by the white collar leading to his muscular neck, up to his powerful jaw, and lips made for kisses. Those lips twitched into the slight smile he was in a habit of giving me.

  “I have an offer for you.”

  “A job?” I wriggled my toes. Does he realize I checked him out?

  “If that’s what you want to call it.” He reclined in his black leather desk chair and watched my wriggling toes like he either wanted to swat them from his desk like a pesky fly or do something naughty with them.

  “Either it’s a job or it isn’t.”

  William stood from his chair and moved to the open door to close it. He returned to his desk chair and picked up a pen, tapping it on his palm while his gaze assessed me. “It would involve a contract.”

  “And money?” I perked up. I needed money.

  “Yes.” He pushed a stack of papers across the desk.

  I dropped my feet and picked up the papers. Prenuptial Agreement glared at me in dark, bold print across the top of the papers. The lines for people’s names and the date were blank.