The Billionaire Takes a Bride

by Jessica Clare

  “Bring him along.” Cherry shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first spouse to tag along. Won’t be the last.”

  “No, seriously, we have plans.”

  “Oooh,” Grief Kelly said, appearing. She looped an arm over Cherry’s shoulders. “Someone wants to get laid.”

  Chelsea ruined a perfectly good bitch-face by giggling.

  “Called it,” Cherry said, and high-fived Grief Kelly. “Fine. You go get you some, but we get details at next practice.”

  “Hell no.” Chelsea pushed past them. “You guys can just use your imaginations. See you next time!”

  A few whistles and catcalls followed her out the door, and she flipped them the bird, grinning. Let them say what they wanted. She didn’t care. It was all good-natured ribbing anyhow. Her girls knew her. Maybe not as well as Pisa, but enough to know that she didn’t give her heart easily.

  Then again, this wasn’t heart, was it? This was just body.

  But she kept thinking of what he’d told his family. I love her.

  She had all kinds of hard-to-classify feelings for the guy herself. Maybe she wasn’t quite ready for the L-word just yet, but she was sure heading in that direction. And after tonight, who knew? Maybe she’d orgasm like a champ and declare endless love for him.

  It could happen.

  Actually, it really could happen, and the thought made her giddy. She hustled down the hall to where Sebastian was waiting and bounded up to him, her feet feeling weird in sneakers after being in skates all night. He had his notepad tucked under one arm and gestured at her bag. “Want me to take that?”

  She clasped his hand in hers instead, keeping her bag firmly on her shoulder. “A girl can carry her own skates.”

  “Of course you can. But you were skating all night and all I did was sit in the bleachers and drink beer with Diane.”

  She chuckled. “I’ve met Diane. Nice lady. Can’t skate for shit.”

  “So she tells me.” He grinned down at her as they walked. “Skating’s important in a spouse.”

  “It is,” she said loftily. “I’m going to ask you to show me your moves at some point.”

  “All my moves don’t involve wheels,” he said, and gave a wiggle of his brows. At her snort, he turned thoughtful. “Diane saw my drawings, though. She thinks I should sketch the girls on the team for their trading cards.”

  She gave his hand a happy squeeze. “That’d be awesome! Are you going to do it?”

  “I don’t know.” He pulled her closer to him protectively as they got to a congested part of the street. “The thought of opening up my art for other people to see . . . it feels very personal. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “It was hard enough showing you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Because I don’t know what I would have done if you’d laughed.” His eyes were so somber. “Your opinion is important to me.”

  Her throat felt tight with emotion, and she gave his hand another squeeze. “Maybe start smaller then? One stranger instead of hundreds?”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Good idea.”

  “I have lots of them tonight.” Oh, her head was just full of all kinds of ideas. Dirty, filthy ideas. “Do you have condoms at home?”

  He immediately steered her the opposite way down the street.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Pharmacy. For condoms.”

  She laughed.

  A half hour later, they were home. The moment they walked in the door, Sebastian tugged her bag off her shoulder and began to kiss her. His mouth moved over hers, tongue slicking against her own. And it was . . . just nice.

  There weren’t the fireworks from earlier. It puzzled her, and she let the kiss continue for a few moments before breaking off and giving his chest a little pat. “I should probably shower. I’m all sweaty and gross.”

  He began to kiss her neck, pressing his mouth against her skin. “I don’t care if you’re sweaty. I like you just the way you are.”

  “Yes, but I want a shower,” she insisted, tugging out of his arms. “Please?”

  Sebastian studied her for a moment, then kissed the tip of her nose. “You bet. I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”

  She smiled at him and gave him a quick, chaste peck on the mouth before heading up to the master bedroom’s bathroom. It was far more lavish than the one she’d claimed for her soap making, and Sebastian didn’t mind that she hogged his bathroom. She managed to hold it together until she started the water.

  Then, she sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed her forehead, thinking.

  Fuck, what was wrong with her? She’d been so easy with him earlier. So passionate. It was the mental breakthrough she’d needed. Surely she wasn’t a one-trick pony? Now that she’d had her orgasm—and what an intense, great orgasm it was—she wasn’t done, was she?

  She had more in her than that, didn’t she?

  It troubled her even as she showered using her favorite soaps. Her current favorite was lavender, the scent calming and fresh. She knew that the house and everything in it sometimes reeked of flowers and Sebastian never uttered a word of complaint. The man was a billionaire. He could have bought her someplace else to work if it bugged him. He could have insisted she shut down her soap business. Paid her to stop stinking up his town house. Instead, he let her be her. Let her run the show.

  If she was still capable of love, Sebastian would be the man she could love.

  But now? After she froze up at the door? She wasn’t so certain if she was cured or not. She stepped out of the shower and toweled off, then impulsively flicked the lights off.

  A wave of sheer terror shot through her. The breath escaped her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. She was being smothered, back in the Dumpster again. Forgotten. Discarded like trash.

  With a small cry, she fumbled against the wall, looking for the light switch. A moment later, bright light flooded the bathroom again and she heaved a sigh of relief and frustration.

  Still broken.

  So what was tonight’s orgasm about, then? She hated to admit defeat to Sebastian, that now that they were home and had bought condoms, she wasn’t sure if she could perform as expected.

  The thought filled her with anxiety and unhappiness.

  By the time she got her nerve up to exit the bathroom, her mood was shot, her earlier confidence shattered. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes with her into the bathroom and had to leave in her towel, and she worried it was going to make Sebastian think that she was game for more play.

  At the thought, she nearly cried. Why did that part of her brain keep shutting down?

  She couldn’t hide in the bathroom all night, though. So, tucking the towel in against her breasts, she sucked in a deep, steadying breath, and emerged.

  Sebastian was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her. She saw he was paging through a derby magazine he must have gotten at the bout that night. He’d undressed, down to nothing but a wifebeater and boxer briefs that outlined the fact that he hadn’t forgotten their earlier interlude. His cock tented the front of the fabric.

  The moment she exited the bathroom, he put aside the magazine and jerked to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

  She gave him a tight smile. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Bullshit. I can see it on your face. Something’s bothering you.” He moved to the closet and got a bathrobe out, holding it out to her. It was a men’s bathrobe, in dark muted colors and thick. Women’s robes were always terry cloth or some satiny crap. It’d also cover her from head to toe in a most unsexy fashion. She took the robe and tied it around her body, then ditched her towel discreetly. “Now, sit down,” he commanded her, and pointed at the end of the bed, the spot he’d just vacated.

  Chelsea thumped down unhappily.

  He knelt in front of her, clasping her hands in his. “You know we don’t have to do anything, right? That there aren’t any expectations from me? Despite what happened earlier?”

&nb
sp; She looked into his beautiful eyes, so bright against his dark lashes, and felt a little bit of her crumple inside. “But that’s the problem. Earlier was so great, and when we got home, I just . . . I lost it, somehow. I don’t understand.” She sniffed and blinked rapidly, hating that she was going to cry over this. Lots of women had trouble orgasming, right?

  She just happened to have trouble with all of it.

  “When we kissed?” he guessed. “Do you think it was just nerves?”

  “Maybe that was it,” she said quickly, leaping on the idea. “Want to try again?”

  “We can, but I don’t want you to pressure yourself.” He stroked his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “No pressure, all right? If it’s not fun, it’s not worth it.”

  “But it’s fun for you,” she sniffed.

  The expression on his face was downright agonized. “Not if you’re not enjoying it.”

  And that was what made Sebastian different from the man who had taken so much from her. Whoever it had been hadn’t cared if she was into it, or that she was drugged out of her mind and tied up so she couldn’t fight. That person had just wanted a convenient warm body to fuck and forget.

  Sebastian wanted her. Chelsea. And he wanted her to enjoy his touches.

  And god, she so desperately wanted to enjoy them, too.

  Please, she said silently, and then patted the corner of the bed next to her. “Come sit?”

  “Remember your safe word.”

  Like she could forget it. It was branded into her mind as a thing she loathed to use but had no choice. Chelsea touched his cheek and guided his mouth down to hers. His lips caressed hers oh so gently, tongue brushing against the part of her mouth. He smelled good, tasted better. His kiss was soft, sweet, and gentle.

  And she felt . . . absolutely nothing. That part of her mind had shut off again.

  She pulled away, new, fresh tears rising. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

  “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he said, brushing a lock of wet hair off her forehead. “Other than being completely amazing in every way.”

  “Every way but this one,” she pointed out bitterly.

  “So you have a hang-up. You’ll get over it. I’m patient enough to wait for you.”

  But you said you loved me. Will that wait too? She was dying to know, but too scared to ask. How long would his caring and affection last if he got nothing in return from her except a wife who couldn’t sleep with the lights off and grew utterly detached the moment he kissed her?

  “Maybe we should go back to the locker room,” she muttered, frustrated. “Everything was awesome there, wasn’t it?”

  His eyes lit up. “Aha.”

  “What? Aha what?”

  “Why was it you started playing derby again?” There was a wicked sparkle in his eye that made her wonder what he was getting at.

  Chelsea tightened the robe about her and considered. “I started playing because I went to a practice and met the girls.”

  “Yeah, but why derby? What about it appealed to you?”

  He was getting at something, but she was too upset and frustrated and tired to follow along. She shrugged. “They looked so strong and confident on the track. Tough. Like nothing could bother them . . .” Her words trailed off and her eyes widened. She sat up straight. “You think it worked earlier because I was Chesty LaRude instead of me?”

  “I think it was still you,” Sebastian said, leaning back on the bed, resting on his palms. “But I think that your confidence comes on the moment you put on your skates. It’s you, but it’s you when you know you’re untouchable and badass. Invulnerable.”

  Was it all just a total mind game after all? “So . . . you think I should put on my skates?”

  “Put on the whole uniform,” he said. “We can give it a shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “I roll down the stairs and break my neck?”

  “I won’t let you anywhere near the stairs. How’s that?”

  Could it work? She was almost scared to try. But that quick round of heavy petting in the locker room had been so wonderful. She’d felt so alive. So normal. Utterly perfect in his arms.

  She wanted to find that again. So she jumped up off the bed and raced across the room to get her derby bag.

  Her uniform was sweaty and gross after playing all night, but she had another one in her closet, so she pulled out her skates and then went to the closet. Out came the teeny, tiny pleated skirt that was more ruffle than anything else. Out came the Y-backed tank-top with RAG QUEENS on it in glittering rhinestones. She thought about the shoulder pads and knee guards, but opted against them. They tended to hold onto sweat and stink.

  On went the striped knee socks, and then she began to dress. She skipped the bra, letting her breasts jiggle loose and free under the uniform. And, okay, she felt a bit more confident like that, and definitely more naughty. The fabric rubbed against her nipples, reminding her that Sebastian had sucked on them earlier, and she’d loved that. She’d felt it all through her body, right down to her core.

  On went the tiny ruffle of her skirt. Underneath that, she normally wore her bright yellow spankies, but on a whim, she left them off. The lack of them left the lower half of her ass bare, and her pubic hair was just barely peeking out from under the front.

  “Oh, fuck, that’s sexy,” Sebastian breathed. He hadn’t left his spot on the bed, as if approaching her might somehow ruin the moment. His hands were locked tight at his side, but his gaze was riveted to her. “I approve of the wardrobe changes.”

  For some reason, so did she. Putting her uniform back on was getting her back into her zone. She felt . . . sexy. Strong. She bent and laced up one skate, then the other, and then stood, hands on hips.

  She felt . . . good. Like herself.

  Well, herself minus bra and panties.

  She skated toward Sebastian, her wheels slow on the carpet. He gazed up at her with scorchingly hot eyes, and she felt a flutter low in her stomach.

  Now for the true test—another kiss.

  Chelsea licked her lips nervously. God, please let this work. She moved toward him and put her hands on his shoulders. He parted his legs so she could move between them and his hands went to her hips, sliding up and down the outside of her thighs. His touch was soothing and enticing at the same time, and she slid a hand to his hair, brushing the thick, dark curls off his forehead.

  He gazed up at her, and for a moment, she was breathless at how utterly gorgeous he was. How had she gotten so lucky? How had this quickie fake marriage turned into something that obsessed her and made her want more out of life? Was that weird? Did she even care? All she knew was that she wanted to be normal for herself, and for Sebastian.

  And she really, really wanted sex with him. Not sex where he hammered into her and she counted tiles. Good sex, the kind where her body gleamed with sweat and her mouth locked to his and every thrust inside her felt like it was going to undo her at a soul-deep level. That kind of sex.

  Because otherwise, there was no point.

  Lost in thought, she smoothed her fingers over his thick brows. He’d never push her. This was all her. Sebastian? Well, he was just awesome.

  How had she gotten so lucky to get him?

  She leaned down and pressed a light, sweet kiss to his mouth. God, she loved his lips. Soft but firm, full and sculpted. They were perfection. With a small sigh of pleasure, she deepened the kiss, her lips moving over his. Heat began to lick through her body, her nipples responding. As he kissed her back, it turned into an even deeper, wetter, hotter kiss, until their tongues were stroking so deep into each other’s mouths that she could have sworn she felt it all the way to her clit.

  “How is it?” he murmured, breaking the kiss at one point.

  “Need more.” Her mouth went to his again.

  He pulled back. “Is that good?”

  “It’s very good,” she said, and pushed him backward onto the bed, crawling over h
im. Her mouth remained locked on his, kissing him wildly. God, these kisses were delicious. It was like her senses were drugged with the taste of Sebastian, the feel of his mouth against hers, his wicked, wicked tongue flicking into her mouth.

  She felt like she could kiss him forever.

  “Can I touch you?” he whispered against her mouth between kisses.

  “God, yes. Touch me all over. Everywhere.” Her hips rocked down against him, and then she was seated, spread over his cock. The sensation against her bare, open pussy made her gasp.

  “Fuck, you are so incredibly sexy.” His hands went to her ass and gripped it, dragging her against his length as she moved her hips.

  “You don’t think this is weird?” She pressed hot, quick kisses to his lips, then moved on to his chin and his jaw. “Me with the skates and the uniform?”

  “Are you kidding? I think I’m living out a fantasy.” His breath hissed out as she nibbled her way down his throat. “You, no panties, skates . . .”

  “Kinda like a porno, huh?” She giggled, lifting her head. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

  “If this is what it takes to get you comfortable, I will put on a pair of skates myself.”

  She chuckled and sat up. Her fingers plucked at his undershirt. “Can I get you naked?”

  He studied her. “Should we go slower? Take it easy?”

  Chelsea leaned down and took his lower lip between her teeth. She teased it for a moment, and when he was closing his eyes in ecstasy, she told him, “I know what the equipment looks like, Sebastian. Unless you spring a second surprise penis on me, you’re not going to shock me.”

  His eyes widened. “Did I not tell you my big secret?”

  She snorted and rolled off of him. “Just get naked already.”

  “Your bossiness is sexy. It’s like you’re a roller-skating drill sergeant.” He stood up and pulled the wifebeater over his head, his muscles flexing in a way that made her breathless and weak.