I know he loves me, that he wants to marry me. But I'm still not entirely convinced of his motives here.
He's used to getting his way.
Still, I'll play along. It sounds sweet. I nod. "Okay. I'm willing to try."
The King guides us into position. Of course, he's the officiant. "Alright, darling, it's real cold out here. So I'll make this quick. We're gathered here at the top of the Stratosphere to celebrate a really beautiful love. Now, I hear ya wrote your own vows."
Pete nods.
"But I... I didn't know." I shake my head. This is ridiculous. We're having an impromptu fake wedding. Of course I don't have vows.
"You can wing it, baby." He squeezes my hand.
Okay, I can do that.
My lips curl into a smile. I love how ridiculous this is. I love that he's trying to show me what he feels for me rather than trying to convince me he's right.
It feels like the sky is lighter already. It's a softer shade of blue. It's more streaked with orange.
The wind howls. It is cold. Just like at the cactus garden, I can barely feel the chill of the air. I'm too overwhelmed by the warmth of his love for me.
I take back anything I said about us being normal.
My fiancé is not a normal man. But I love him even more for what a weirdo he is.
Pete stares into my eyes. Already, he's blushing. "I'm not an eloquent guy. Even when I write a song, the words are simple. I don't know how to make words into something beautiful. The best I can do is speak from my heart."
His gaze goes to the sky as his cheeks get pinker.
Damn, he's never this shy. Ever. It's incredibly endearing.
He lets out a nervous laugh then his eyes are back to mine. "I was broken when I met you. I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't know how to turn the world into a place that made sense. It used to be that I could pick up my bass and everything would click into place. But that had stopped. For the first time, I didn't know where I belonged. I didn't know what I wanted. The first time I made you smile, I knew what I wanted. I wanted more of your smile. I wanted more of your laugh. I wanted more of your satisfaction, every fucking kind of satisfaction. I didn't ever want to fall in love again. But you stole my heart. Now I can't think of anything I want more than knowing you're mine forever."
My heart does melt. I'm warm everywhere.
His eyes bore into mine. "I guess that's a really selfish vow, but it's true. I want to spend my life making you happy. I'm going to spend my life making you happy, whatever it takes."
He's blushing still, but his eyes aren't nervous anymore. They're filled with a delicious mix of excitement and enthusiasm.
My heart is beating so fast I can't keep up.
His words wash over me. He is eloquent. Maybe it's not a typical, MFA in poetry kind of eloquence, but the rawness of his words is beautiful.
I squeeze his hand. "I don't know how to follow that."
He smiles. "Usually, I let you go first."
Nerves flee my body as I laugh. Of course he's making a sex joke at a time like this.
Of course I'm laughing off the tension in my shoulders.
He always puts me at ease.
Okay, I'm winging this. I can do that. I take a deep breath as I collect my thoughts. "I remember thinking that I'd never met anyone like you. Now, I'm sure there isn't anyone in the world like you. There's no one else who can make me laugh the way you do."
I build up my courage to force myself to look into his dark eyes.
"There's no one else who can make me come the way you do."
My cheeks burn, but I press on. I want to get everything I'm feeling out. He needs to know how much I love him.
"There's no one else who makes me feel easy and free. I'm not sure what my life is going to hold, but I know I always want a place for you in it. I want to fall asleep with you every night and wake up with you every morning. I want to do whatever it takes to hear your laugh in my ears. You make me stronger, and better, and I want to repay the favor every day for the rest of my life."
"Baby." He slides his arms around my waist. He moves closer. Then his lips are on mine.
My hands dig into his hair as I kiss him back.
Elvis objects, mumbling something about how we aren't at that part yet, but neither of us listens.
Every inch of me is on fire. He was right. The venue doesn't matter. The decorations don't matter. What matters is the two of us promising each other the world.
He's already given me the world.
I really do hope I can repay the favor.
When our kiss breaks, I'm panting. The sky is brighter now. The clouds glow with orange light.
"Usually, we wait to exchange rings and say I do," Elvis says. "But I can tell the two of you are ready to kiss some more."
Yes, we are. I nearly jump into Pete's arms, and I kiss him like the ship is going down.
His words are still washing over me.
Every part of me melts as he kisses me. When we're finished, I'm a puddle. I'm mush.
He looks into my eyes. His fingers skim my cheek. "What do you think?"
I nod. "Let's do it here. For real." My gaze goes to the Christmas lights strung up inside the deck. I hadn't noticed them before. "On Christmas."
"There's a private balcony a few floors down."
My smile gets wider. "Perfect."
"Let me take care of everything."
"Except the dress."
He nods. "Except the dress."
My heart is soaring. We're really getting married. It's really going to happen. And it's only a few days away.
I look up at him. "You mean all that?"
"Every word."
I tug at his t-shirt. It's much too early—and this is much too romantic—for my inhibitions to get in the way of words spilling from my lips. "I need you to fuck me. Somewhere I can scream your name as loudly as I want."
He slides his arm around my waist. "I have an idea. If you're game."
"Yeah?"
"I want to tie you up again."
The flush in my cheeks spreads all the way to my chest. "Oh."
"Want to force you to take all the pleasure I want to give you."
Well, when he says it like that.
I nod. "Hell yes."
Chapter Forty-Three
Jess
The cab is crawling. The odometer reads twenty-five miles per hour, but that must be wrong. It must be the angle.
I need to be in our hotel room, in our bed, right away. My knees knock together. My feet tap the floor. My wedge boots are heavy enough that each tap is more of a thud. I make a note to myself to buy a nicer, lighter pair of boots, but it flies right out of my brain.
My brain is screaming I need to be tied to his bed now. Though it's not really his bed. It's not even our bed. It's the hotel bed.
Somehow, that makes it hotter, dirtier.
I'm always at his mercy, always under his command, but making it actual and physical—it's more than hot as hell. It's freeing, captivating, and intense.
Pete chuckles. "You ready for something?"
A pang of desire shoots straight to my core. I open my mouth to speak but words refuse to form.
Thoughts swirl around my head. There's a lot to consider. A wedding, even a straightforward wedding at a venue that does ten weddings a day, means decisions and stress. My family is arriving in two days. Then it's Christmas Eve. Then Christmas.
I said Christmas, that we'd get married on Christmas.
That's only four days away.
In four days, I'll be a married woman.
It's a good thing—hell, it's a great thing—but it's quite the change.
My life has changed a lot in the last year. Most of it has been for the better, but it gets exhausting keeping up. I need a break from everything swirling around my head.
Pete rubs my shoulder. "What are you thinking, baby?"
"That I'd like a break from thinking."
He smiles. "Lines up with my plans for the
rest of the day."
Uh... I'm already forgetting how to think anything but yes, please, now. My body is on fire with want. It's difficult to get words out. "All day?"
He leans in to whisper. "I'm going to make you come until you beg me to stop."
I nod. Yes, that's quite a plan. He really does have shit under control.
He presses his lips to my neck. It's soft then it's harder. "I want you relaxed today." He sucks on my earlobe. "And we both know I always get what I want."
He does.
My thoughts turn to dust as he presses his palm against me. He rubs me over my jeans, groaning lightly as he nibbles on my ear.
We're in the back of a cab. The driver can glance in the rearview mirror to watch.
The exhibition of it sends a thrill to my core. My lips part with a sigh of pleasure. This already feels good enough to chase away my thoughts.
I soak in the movements of his hands and lips for the rest of the ride. Then we're at the hotel. He takes his time shifting away from me. His dark eyes are filled with desire. There's something else too, something commanding.
He undoes my seatbelt and opens the door for me.
I'm in a daze of lust as he slides his arm around my waist and leads me through the hotel lobby.
This time of day, the elevator bank is quiet. He leads me onto an available—and mercifully, empty—elevator and taps in our floor. The elevator rises.
Pete turns around and gives me a long once-over.
I unbutton my coat reflexively.
He slides one hand around my waist, then it's under my sweater, against my lower back. His hips press against mine—he is hard—then they're pinning me against the elevator wall.
The intensity of his stare melts something in me. His eyes are brimming with desire. It's fucking amazing.
He leans in to kiss me. God, what a kiss. My lips part to make way for his tongue. Then our tongues are dancing. Kissing him is always intoxicating, but this is something else.
We're really getting married.
This is really forever.
His hand brushes the waist of my jeans. Then my jeans are unbuttoned, unzipped. He slides his hand into my panties.
I groan into his mouth as he strokes me. All that stuff about musicians being good with their hands—it's all true. I'm almost there already.
The elevator dings. Our floor. He pulls his hand away then buttons my jeans and my coat.
He plants a long, slow kiss on my lips.
When he pulls back, he smiles a truly evil damn, do I enjoy teasing you smile. I only catch my reflection for a minute. It's enough to see that I look as flushed and desperate as I feel.
I might be in over my head here.
I squeeze his hand on the way to the hotel room. "What if it's too much, if I want you to stop?"
"Say stop." He unlocks the door and whisks me inside. "This is about bringing you pleasure, baby. It's not about depriving you of anything."
His voice is low and steady. Mine feels scattered and weak by comparison.
I try to cultivate all the confidence I have. "I like when you give me orders."
"I know." He looks me up and down. "Take off your coat."
I leave it hanging on a chair.
His voice shifts, deeper and more demanding. "Strip to your bra and panties. Slowly."
Hell yes. I watch delight spread over his face as I hang my sweater and blouse over my coat. It's hard taking off my boots, socks, and jeans in a graceful manner, but I manage.
I rub my thighs together. Then my palms. There's a desperate ache in my core. Nothing will satisfy it except for him.
"Fuck, you get more gorgeous every day." He pulls my glasses off, gently, and sets them on top of my jeans.
He takes his time running his fingers over my body. Every brush of his fingers winds up the tension in my core. I'm still on the edge, still in need of release.
He sighs with pleasure as he cups my ass. Then he's lifting me into his arms. He carries me to the bed.
He sets me on the bed and presses his lips to mine. "You're nervous."
"A little." Okay, a lot.
He runs his fingertips over my cheek. "You're in control of this. If there's anything you don't like, tell me to stop. Doesn't matter how much I'm enjoying it." His expression gets intense. "Promise?"
"I promise."
He smiles that same evil smile. It lights up his face. His dark eyes are practically shining.
He sheds his coat on the armchair in the corner. My gaze goes straight to the erection straining against his jeans. It's not mine yet. It's not mine until he sees fit.
Pete pulls something from the bottom drawer of the dresser. It's the same restraint that was under Tom's old bed at the Hollywood place. He's been hoarding it.
He hooks it around the headboard. His eyes meet mine. "Take off your bra."
I nearly fling it aside.
He motions, come here.
I do. Then his fingers are on my wrist. His touch is soft as he cuffs me. He moves to the other side of the bed and cuffs my other wrist.
I'm tied to the headboard.
I really am at his mercy. The revelation sends another pang of lust to my core. I do my best to sit up straight, my back against the headboard.
My eyes stay on Pete. He takes his time stripping. First the shoes and socks. Then the t-shirt. The jeans.
He slides his boxers off his hips.
Mmm. He looks so fucking yummy naked.
I press my fingertips into my thumbs. I'm wound up. I need release.
His expression intensifies as he wraps his hands around my ankles. Slowly, he pulls my body toward his. I push off the headboard. Then I'm flat on my back, my ankles on the edge of the bed.
Pete places himself between my legs. His eyes stay on mine as he drags his fingertips from my ankle to my knee then all the way up my thigh. Slowly, he drags his fingers back to my ankle.
He does it again and again. Each time, he gets closer.
His fingertips skim the peak of my inner thigh. My sex clenches from the proximity. I need his hand on me. The wait is torture. It's beautiful, sweet, delicious torture, but it's torture nonetheless.
He presses his palm against my inner thigh. "You want to come on my hand, baby?"
"Yes."
His fingertips skim my sex, feather-light. I shudder. My heels knock into the mattress.
He does it again and again.
He does it until I'm writhing on the bed.
"Please," I breathe. My eyes catch his. There's that same intensity in his stare.
He likes being in control. But there's more to it than that. There's a tenderness, a focus. He's fixed on my pleasure.
His breath hitches as his touch hardens.
It only takes a few moments of his fingers on my clit to push me off the edge. The unbearably taught tension releases as I come. I shudder and shake and scream his name. Pleasure spreads to my toes. I feel the release everywhere.
I'm not sure I've ever needed an orgasm as badly as I needed that.
He drags his fingertips over my thigh for a moment. Then he's rubbing me again.
It's intense. My eyes close. My breath gets heavy, impossible to control.
There's no way for me to contain this. I try squeezing my toes into the sheets, but that doesn't help. All I can feel is the intensity of the orgasm building inside me.
I bite my lip.
Almost.
Then I'm there. I scream his name as I come again. It's faster and harder than the last orgasm.
The look in his eyes is clear. He's going to make me come again. I'm not complaining—not even close—but I want this to end with him coming inside me, not with me begging him to stop stroking me because I can't take it anymore.
I press my knees together. My voice is needy. "Fuck me."
He runs his fingertips over my inner thigh. His voice is commanding. "Not until you come on my face."
I groan.
He leans down to press
his lips to my ankle. "Twice to start."
To start?
The man is trying to kill me.
He drags his lips up my calf and over my inner thigh. I squeeze my toes. I'm already overwhelmed with pleasure.
But there still isn't a single molecule in my body that wants to protest.
His breath is nearly as heavy as mine. He moans against my inner thigh. It's amazing music.
But then there's this other music. Something familiar. One of those bands he likes.
His phone. It's ringing.
He ignores it, moves a little higher, nips at my skin.
The phone rings to voicemail. It stops for a second then it's going again.
And there's something else. Someone is knocking on the door. It's not the polite knock of the staff. It's frantic, desperate even.
Pete pushes himself up. Frustration fills his expression. "You okay tied up while I check that?"
I nod. There's something appealing about being tied up waiting for him.
He grabs the towel from the bathroom, cinches it around his waist, and goes to main room.
With the bedroom door open a sliver, I can hear the faint whisper of conversation at the door. It's a woman's voice and she's crying. She's frantic. She's really familiar.
That's Willow.
Before I can contemplate what it is that's wrong, there are footsteps coming closer. Pete steps into the room.
His tongue slides over his lips as he looks me over. "Should be five minutes. Want me to untie you?"
That sounds like an eternity, but the breather will do bounds for my stamina.
I shake my head. "I think I need the break."
He smiles as he throws off his towel and slides on his jeans. Only his jeans, no boxers.
He's naked under his jeans.
His fingertips trail over my ankle. "Don't think I've changed my mind about you coming on my face."
This time, he closes the door. It's for the best. I don't want to eavesdrop on their conversation. I'm sure it's about Tom. You'd think that, with what Nathan did to me, I'd get antsy about how close Pete is with his brother's wife, but there isn't a single part of me that doubts his fidelity.
He's mine and I'm his. In a few days, the world and the state of Nevada will know it.
I let my mind go wild imagining his body on top of mine, his deep voice in my ears, his cock buried inside me.
Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade #5) Page 27
