The CEO And The Wedding Planner: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 201)

by Flora Ferrari

  But why the fuck do I need to take a piece?

  She’s all mine.

  And now she knows it.

  But as I stare at her – the plane gliding smoothly through the late summer sky – I can’t stop myself from thinking of the note that was delivered to me late last night.

  Leave Melody Baston alone.

  She’s not who you think she is.

  It was written on the same playing card that Mathewson showed me before. The card that the blackmailer had left with my employee, the one who hacked the cellphone and caused a PR shit storm for Spark.

  Why the fuck would the man who was behind that want me to leave Melody alone, and why had Melody given me a fake name? Or maybe it was this motherfucker using the fake name.

  I could look into it myself, scouring the various electronic databases and search for both names to find out which one is real.

  But that would mean going behind Melody’s back and I have no desire to do that.

  “Are you okay, Mason?” she asks, folding one leg over the other in a way that causes the denim of her jeans to tug toward her crotch, igniting a blaze inside of me that threatens to erupt any moment.

  “Yes,” I tell her.

  Because it’s the truth.

  I am okay.

  I know that if Melody has concealed her true name, there’s a reason behind it, even if this puzzle is making me curious. And it is making me curious. But to the point where I want to ruin today by opening a can of putrid worms she clearly doesn’t want opened?

  Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but right now I’m more concerned with our day … and our evening.

  Melody is mine.

  Always fucking mine.

  And the rantings of some jackass maniac on a pretentious playing card aren’t going to change that.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” she says.

  I smirk, leaning forward, any thought of the playing card already drifting to the wayside.

  “If you come and sit on my lap, I might think about it,” I laugh.

  She grabs her seatbelt, tilting her head at me sassily.

  “If you promise you’ll tell me, then we might have a deal.”

  My manhood floods instantly like it always does when she gets that sassy, confident look on her face. It comes in rushing moments, as though she has to forget to be nervous to allow her natural self-assuredness to flow through. It’s like the sun behind the clouds, when it emerges, vivacious and so attractive I feel my seed surging through me, hungry to be inside of her.

  Where it belongs.

  “If you do, I won’t be able to stop myself,” I say.

  “Come on.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “I’m serious,” I growl. “Why do you think I only gave you a quick kiss on the cheek on the runway, eh? It’s because all I’ve been able to think about is you in that office, Melody, how goddamn beautiful you looked when you creamed for me—Jesus, see? Already I feel like a wild beast about to break out of his cage.”

  “God, you’re going to be crazy later aren’t you?” She smiles, but then her smile wavers. “What if I can’t …”

  I lean forward, looking into the meaningful depths of her eyes.

  “What is it, Melody?” I ask. “You can always talk to me. We can always be honest with each other.”

  Except about our real identities, a cruel voice jabs.

  She picks at the armrest of the plush black leather seat. The décor in here is sleek, with the wood-paneled walls and the dark-wood-colored surfaces and seats, the carpet plush as it leads to a separate dining area that then leads to the cockpit. We have complete privacy, the only sound the light Jazz playing through the speakers, and Melody’s breathing, her breathing which is getting quicker and more anxious.

  “What if I’m not good enough?” she whispers.

  “Good enough?” I mutter, confused.

  She shoots me a look and then it hits me.

  Despite the ravenous need inside of me, I unclip my belt and move over to her, kneeling down and placing my hand on her leg. I force myself to keep it there, near her knee, even though every fiber in my animalistic being is roaring at me to slide it higher and take what’s mine.

  “Maybe I should tell you something that’d put you at ease, eh?” I whisper.

  “I don’t think there is anything,” she mutters. “I’m going to be fumbling all over the place and you’re—”

  “A virgin, too,” I growl.

  I feel a weight flowing off of my shoulders.

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever admitted that to anybody,” I say in wonder. “Natalie doesn’t even know. She knows I don’t go on dates. I’ve never had the time. No, fuck that. I’ve never had the need, not before you, Melody. But not this. So you see? You don’t have to be nervous. Because we’re in this together.”

  “You’re a …”

  She narrows her eyes at me and her hand – placed atop mine – tremors.

  “Okay, I’m not saying you’d lie about something like that,” she says. “But, God, Mason … you do see how difficult that is for me to believe, right? When we were getting Natalie’s contract at Eternal Bond, I did a bit of research on Spark. You know, just getting some background. And I saw the way the press talk about you. I saw how women faun over you. Do you have any idea how many ‘Sexiest Men Alive’ lists you appear on? If you wanted you could have a line of supermodels ten blocks long waiting for you to do whatever you wanted with them. And you’re saying you waited for me?”

  “Yes,” I say with passion, leaning over and bringing my face close to hers, looking right into the soul of my queen. “You’re right. I won’t lie about that. I could’ve had any woman I wanted. But I never wanted them. I never wanted to just rut for the sake of it. I was waiting until I knew, and I fucking knew the second I laid eyes on the curviest, sexiest, shyest, sassiest, most interesting woman alive.”

  She bites her lip, tears pricking her eyes.

  “You’re not lying?” she whispers.

  “Never,” I say firmly. “I’ll never lie to you. You’re my woman now, Melody. We’re going to be together for a damn long time. We’re going to have children together.”

  She sucks in a short breath as I lean in for an excited and enticing kiss. I kiss her lips softly at first, and then a beast wakes up inside of me and I lean in harder, sinking close to her, savoring the way her body trembles against mine.

  “So you’ll never lie to me?” she whispers, her lips brushing mine as she speaks, the closeness unstoppable.

  “Never,” I growl.

  But are you lying, Melody?

  Are you lying about who you are?

  I shut that voice up with a boot to the face, deciding to ignore that thorny issue until later, when we’re back in the city. I don’t want it intruding now, here.

  Her smile turns knowing and playful, and I already know what she’s going to ask before she says it. A note of something like pride twangs in my chest. Our children are going to learn to be on their toes quickly around their mother or she’s going to run circles around them.

  “So then, Mr. Never Lies, where are we doing?”

  “Niagara Falls,” I laugh.

  “What?” Her face lights up and her eyes sparkle. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah,” I tell her. “Natalie told me you’d mentioned it was one of your dream destinations. What better place for a second date?”

  She blinks away tears. “It’s not just one of my dream destinations,” she whispers. “It’s ... special to me. The only photo I have of my parents was taken at Niagara Falls. I’ve always wanted to go there, Mason. Thank you so much.”

  She flings herself at me and catching her feels like the most natural thing in the world.

  It always will.

  I stand, picking her up at the same time, and then carry her back to my seat and sit her down on my lap.

  My manhood surges against my pants, trying to break free and claim its ri
ghtful home.

  “I still can’t believe you’re a virgin too,” she whispers, her hands smoothing over my hair, tickling alluringly. But not as alluring as the closeness of those milk giving breasts. “It’s just that you seem to know what you’re doing. Especially yesterday, in the office.”

  I shrug. “It was the first time I’ve never done that. But that’s the thing, Melody. These days, people forget that we’re animals. They try to treat sex like code, as though if you do A, B, and fucking C you’ll get pleasure as the result. But spending time around you, I’m learning that it’s nothing like that at all. We’re beasts, and the only thing we have to do is give in to our primal urge to claim each other, to truly be together, to devour each other. Everything else is just background noise.”

  This time, it’s her who leans in for the kiss. I brace her back and press her up against me, feeling her heartbeat hammering through her breasts, making them quiver gorgeously.

  As we soar over the world, I wrap my arms around her and let out a carnal growl, letting all my concerns drop to the earth below.

  Later.

  There will be time for that note and that bullshit later.

  But this day belongs to us.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Melody

  The presidential suite of the hotel is like something out of the crazy fantasies I used to have as a kid in the orphanage.

  I’d curl up at night and imagine these wide-open rooms, these plush unrealistic – it seemed to me then – havens. With its marble floors covered in thick rugs, its couches and chairs that look straight out of a palace, and huge paintings hanging from the walls, I feel like I’ve floated into a reverie.

  I walk to the fireplace, which is as tall as me, staring up at it in wonder.

  “How do they even have a fireplace up here?” I gasp.

  Mason walks up behind me, moving quietly for a man his massive size. He wraps his arms around me and leans close, lips brushing tantalizingly against my skin. “They must’ve known you were coming and wanted to impress you.”

  “Ha ha, mister,” I giggle, but really more warmth smooths through me.

  Today has just been absolutely heavenly from start to finish.

  When he told me he was a virgin on the private plane – the private freaking plane – I didn’t believe him at first. It just made no sense. I thought he was just telling me to try and make me feel better.

  But when I looked into his eyes, I saw the truth there, and I saw something else, too.

  He’d never lie to me.

  My man will never lie to me.

  I want to tell him the truth about who I am, which is in itself easily the closest I’ve come to ever wanting to be open with anybody.

  Even with Gertrude, the need has never felt this overwhelming.

  And yet there’s also a part of me that wants to enjoy this evening, my body and soul full of glee after the wonder that was the Niagara Falls, standing in the same spot as my parents’ picture and getting snapped with Mason at my side.

  “You haven’t seen the bedroom yet,” he says, his voice deep and husky, letting me know that this is it, he can’t hold himself back any longer.

  And neither can I.

  My mind wants to come clean about who I really am, my past, that evil night with the blood, the violence, and the pain.

  But with Mason’s hand on the small of my back, softly and yet determinedly guiding me down the wide hall to the bedroom, the door ajar so that I can make out the hardwood floor and the four poster bed, I find that those concerns drift away.

  My body has entirely different concerns.

  Later, later.

  Because right now my womb is screaming at me to just be in the moment, to forget the pain of the past and drift indulgently into the pleasure of the present.

  Mason closes the door behind us, showing the fanciest bedroom I’ve ever stood in. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its lights sheathed in glistening diamonds, making the room sparkle magically.

  The bed’s sheets are silk and red, inviting, the closed curtains the same color, hanging from a golden rail.

  “I feel like a princess,” I whisper, and then curse myself for being the biggest dork ever.

  I feel like a princess.

  Lame.

  But Mason just grabs my shoulders and turns me so that I’m facing him, and there’s nothing in his beast’s expression – his smirk showing his canines – that tells me he thinks I’m lame.

  He looks at me like I’m the only woman alive, as though a bomb could decimate the world outside and we’d still be safe in here, just him and me, my man, my savior.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself.

  To save me, he’d have to know the truth.

  And even if I’m planning on telling him, I haven’t yet.

  Maybe when I do, everything will change.

  “Fuck, you look so perfect right now,” he growls, leaning close to me, closer. “But I can’t be romantic, not with my manhood roaring at me to take you, to plunge hotly into your virgin pussy and fire my seed straight into your womb. So I’m sorry, Melody.”

  “Sorry for what—”

  I giggle crazily when he picks me up, something I’ll never get used to no matter how many times he does it. It’s the ease with which he handles me that always surprises me, as though I don’t weigh so much more than the so-called regular women.

  He cradles me close to his chest and then places me down on the red silk sheets.

  I turn so that I’m lying on my back, just in time for Mason to lower himself atop me, supporting himself with one hand and smoothing the other up my jeaned thigh. His palm burns through the denim with his passion, leaving a trailing mark the closer he gets to my sex.

  I feel my nerves draining away as we kiss, our tongues swirling, sinking deeper and deeper into our enflamed passion.

  And then something snaps in us and we can’t hold ourselves back anymore.

  Through the kiss, our hands are all over each other, stripping away clothes. As I tug at his shirt buttons, and then eventually lose patience and just tear them free, I realize that Mason was right.

  All we have to do is let go.

  Our bodies know what to do.

  All those times I’ve felt anxiety creeping into me at the thought that I’m a twenty-one year old virgin, all the self-doubt, all the insecurity, none of it matters with our bodies pressed close and our passion steering into the storm of our lust.

  I gaze at him as he stands up to tear his pants off, the only part of him that is still clothed.

  His body looks as if it’s carved from stone, every line of muscle cut hard and certain, his abs a giant block of muscle with each pack a solid gradation.

  Then he pulls his pants down and his manhood springs up, so large and throbbing my hand flies over my mouth to stop a shocked scream from escaping.

  He’s huge.

  I don’t have a freaking measuring tape with me, but ten inches, eleven? The head is engorged and he’s so hard that his entire weighty length points almost straight up. A vein runs up the side, pulsing, needing.

  I lie here, naked, the air pricking at my bare, soaked sex, staring between my open knees at my giant-cocked man.

  “Fuck, Mason.”

  He smirks cockily.

  “Yeah, that was the plan.”

  “Dick,” I giggle.

  He nods down at his manhood as he steps forward.

  “Aren’t you observant?”

  Our mirth drains away and things get serious again when he lies over the top of me, moving one hand to my breasts, and then twisting my nipples softly, but enough to make it buzz and tingle.

  The sensation causes tendrils of sizzling euphoria to whisper through me, smoothing down through my belly, into my womb, as though by rubbing my hardening nipples he’s getting my body ready to greedily swallow up his rushing seed.

  “These fucking tits,” he snarls, leaning down to suck one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. “
They’ll be heavy with milk soon. Will you give me a taste?”

  “Maybe if you ask nicely,” I whimper, voice catching under the force of the pleasure.

  “I don’t know if I can,” he growls. “Not with you so naked and wet and sexy. Fuck, I can’t hold back anymore.”

  He leans up, his shoulders large boulders as they catch the glittering chandelier light.

  Reaching down, he grabs his manhood and guides it to my aching, soaked opening.

  But even aching and soaked I feel a sweet kissing stab as he slides up inside of me, the walls of my pussy twinging as his giant girth fills me. I bite down, staring up at him through hazy eyes, terrified that this is it, the moment it all comes crashing down.

  I won’t be able to take him, and really, that’s a pretty big problem in a relationship – are we in a relationship? – as passionate as ours.

  He stares into my eyes, his lips a tight line as he inches deeper and deeper, his eyes swirling with the tightness of my body around his length.

  “God,” he groans.

  “Oh, oh,” I say, at the same moment.

  We both feel it, the instance my pussy relaxes, as though my womb is letting me know that it’s time to take him, all of him.

  He slides out and I let out a moan, the sensation like nothing I’ve ever experienced, as though we’re melting into each other, as though the heat between my legs is the first stage of a transformation.

  I reach up and grab his shoulders, holding tightly onto the muscle, feeling my fingernails bend against the hardness of them.

  He thrusts into me with more force, making a groaning sound near the back of his throat, like a wild wolf who’s finally found his long-awaited mate.

  Me.

  The silk sheets rub smoothly against my ass as I begin to shift my hips, sinking into the rhythm, any sense of discomfort completely disappearing with the movements.

  We stare into each other’s eyes as he begins to pump with the fury of a warlord, as though this is three hundred years ago and he’s just conquered my village.

  And now he’s taking what’s his.

  Me.

  His prize.

  I clasp his face in my hands, framing those penetrating icy eyes, and grind my hips down the length of him, feeling every inch, every heated point of contact between us.