The Wedding Rescue, Book Three (An Alpha Billionaire Club BBW Romance)
Page 4
“Oh,” I said.
I could only imagine the kind of jobs Axel took. I’d heard of Sinclair Security. They didn’t do pay-by-the-month house alarms. They specialized in elite systems for the wealthiest clients. And they provided personal security for everyone from visiting dignitaries to celebrities with scary stalkers. I knew about them because one of their people had foiled an assassination attempt on a foreign ambassador a few months before. He’d foiled it by taking the bullet himself. It had been huge in the news. Not only had the Sinclair team protected their client, they’d tracked down the assassin and handed him over to the police.
I gave Axel another look. This time, I saw it. Beneath his quiet demeanor was a core of steel. This man would get the job done, no matter what it took. Curious, I asked,
“Was the ambassador’s attempted assassination one of your hairy cases?” I knew he’d know what I was talking about. The assassination attempt had been on every news channel for over a week. Axel shook his head.
“The ambassador was business as usual. Unfortunate that it hit the news. We like to keep a low profile. News should be about our clients, not our agents.”
“Is the guy who got shot okay? The last I saw, he was in the hospital.”
“He’s back in the field. It was only a shoulder, nothing serious.”
“Good,” I said. Axel winked at me.
He was hot, no question. That thick, short, dark hair, his almost black eyes, a lean but powerful build. Still, Lacey was right. Not exactly great relationship material. I sure as hell wouldn’t be comfortable with a man who considered a bullet to the shoulder a minor issue. Not if he was out there facing far more dangerous stuff than just being shot. The woman who took him on would have to be strong enough to handle his job and laid back enough not to freak out about it. Feeling like poking at him, I leaned my head back and looked up at Dylan.
“Your job isn’t dangerous, is it?” He rubbed his chin against my temple, smiling down at me.
“Not remotely. Stressful sometimes. But not dangerous.”
“Good,” I whispered, forgetting for a moment that we had company. Dylan’s eyes had darkened to a rich green, the color so deep I felt myself falling into them. His eyes were saying something I liked, something warm and hopeful that had my heart racing. A throat cleared. I flushed and looked up to see Axel studying me with a grave expression.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Violet said, gesturing at Dylan and me.
“All right,” Sam said. “Enough of that, Dyl. You’re making us look bad in front of the ladies.” Turning to Lacey and Violet, he said, “Do you two want to go out and have some fun? It looks like Dylan and Leigha are in for the night.”
Both women agreed, and with a few nods and winks, the four of them left the bar. The ice bag on my knuckles was mostly water by this point. I dropped it on the bar beside my empty water glass.
“Do you want to go and have some fun?” Dylan asked.
“Only if the fun is upstairs in your penthouse,” I said. “Your friends were nice, but I don’t want to share you anymore.”
His fierce smile was all the answer I needed. With one arm wrapped tightly around my shoulder, Dylan led the way to the elevators. This time, our silent ride up to the penthouse didn’t leave me feeling awkward and uncertain. I thought I was coming to understand where I stood with Dylan. I hoped I was.
Without speaking, we passed through the entryway and into his penthouse. As soon as we crossed the threshold, Dylan turned and headed straight for the bedroom. I followed without protest. In complete silence, he stopped beside the bed and stared at me, taking me in from head to toe. I stared back, absorbing the way he looked in his perfectly tailored suit, hoping it would shortly be on the floor. Reading my mind, he stripped off his jacket, dropping it on the bed. His shirt followed seconds later, his eyes never leaving mine.
I reached for the zipper at my back, lowering it slowly. When it was all the way down, I stopped, letting Dylan push the lace of the bodice off my shoulders. The fabric caught on my breasts before giving in to the pull of gravity and falling to the carpet. I stood there, naked except for my spike-heeled sandals. I expected Dylan to pounce. I was tempted to pounce on him, and he only had his shirt off.
What he did took me by surprise, melting my wary heart. Stepping closer, until the tips of my breasts touched his chest, he took my mouth in a slow, devastating kiss. His kiss didn’t rush, didn’t push. He tasted me—no, he savored me. I know, because I was doing the same - falling deeper and deeper into our kiss as my hands sank into his thick, silky hair.
We stood there kissing for what felt like forever. When he finally turned and lowered me to my back on the comforter, I was more than ready for him. But then, I’d been ready since before I’d unzipped my dress. I opened my legs, inviting him into my body, lifting my arms in welcome.
After the violence of the fight with Peter, and Dylan's anger that I was hurt, I expected his touch to be rough. Demanding. I wasn't prepared for tenderness. Dylan moved us up the bed until I was cradled in the pillows and fell to worshiping my body with determined focus.
His hands skated over my skin, stroking, rubbing, paying just as much attention to my rib cage and my elbows as he did to my breasts. He took his time, exploring every inch of me, lavishing attention all over. I squirmed under his weight, more eager for his cock with every second that passed. By the time he shifted to press his hard length against me, I was desperate, wild with need.
He pushed his way inside my slick pussy, taking my mouth with his as he moved in long, slow thrusts. Dylan was taking his time, but I came in a blinding flash, helpless to resist the way he stretched my aroused flesh, the way he ground into my clit when he went deep.
Dylan let me break our kiss to cry out my pleasure. When I was done gasping and moaning, he took my mouth again. Echoes of the orgasm began to build back up as he continued to move inside me in the same deliberate pace.
No one had ever kissed me the way Dylan did. I felt every emotion through his mouth—passion, possession, need, and affection. All of it swirled through me, drawing me into him. The second orgasm was almost on me when he stopped moving and broke our kiss.
I opened my eyes to see him glaring down at me, his eyes clear and bright in the light from the living room.
“No one touches you but me. Never again.”
I blinked up at him, resisting the urge to thrust myself on his cock, still buried inside me.
“I should have been there,” he said.
“You were.”
"Not soon enough," he growled.
“I'm okay,” I assured him. “It won't happen again."
"No. It won't." Simple words, but they felt like a vow.
"Dylan." I reached one hand up to his face and rubbed the furrows between his eyes. "It's okay." He jerked his face away from my hand.
"You don't understand. You're mine. Mine. No one touches you. No one hurts you. No one scares you. No one. Not ever."
I didn't know what to say. He was right, I didn't understand. In less than two days he'd gone from propositioning me for the weekend to declaring ownership of me. How had this happened? If he meant it, if this was real...
He must have seen the uncertainty flickering in my eyes.
"Say it," he rasped out, his voice guttural. "Now. Say it."
Meeting his intense green eyes, I whispered, "Yours. I'm yours."
“Mine,” he said again and thrust hard into my pussy. “Mine.”
Taking my wrists into one hand, he hauled them over my head and pinned me to the bed, fucking me hard, his deliberate, gentle touch transformed into an aggressive claiming. Under the force of his body taking mine, the base of his cock grinding into my clit, my nipples scraping his chest, my brain scattered. I could think about what this meant later. All I cared about at that moment was Dylan. His heat, his passion, and his need for me. He was all I’d ever dreamed of in a man.
No, he was more perfect than my dreams. He was e
verything. The blistering heat of my second orgasm took me under. I wrapped my arms and legs around Dylan’s body, digging my nails into his back and rocking up, my pussy squeezing him as tightly as my arms. I heard him groan, felt him stiffen as he emptied himself inside me. Then I passed out.
8
Leigha
I opened my eyes to a dark room, momentarily forgetting where I was. I shifted to sit up, and the arm tightening on my waist brought me back to reality. I was in Dylan’s penthouse. We’d crashed after the most intense sex I’d ever had. And I thought Dylan had said some profound things in the middle of it. About me belonging to him. Not weekend fling kind of stuff.
Just as I wondered why I was awake, I heard a ping from the side of the bed. My phone. Someone was texting me. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was after two in the morning. Who would be texting me? Belatedly, I remembered the weird messages I’d gotten earlier. I’d thought they were a mistake, until I saw my name. It had been stupid to hope they’d go away if I ignored them. I’d just wanted one night of a fairy tale with Dylan. A night when nothing could go wrong. Peter had almost ruined that, but punching him had been a fantasy for a while, so his offensive behavior turned out to be a blessing.
Easing out from under Dylan’s arm, I left the bed, grabbing my phone from the bedside table on the way to the bathroom. Maybe it was just one of my friends drunk texting me from a bar. It was Friday night. That didn’t happen often, but it did happen. I checked the display on the phone. It was not a friend.
I’m tired of all this bullshit.
Meet me at your house at 3am.
The last text had just come in. Tired of trying to ignore this, since the texter was obviously not going away, I typed back,
Who are you? How do you know where I live?
A pause. I held my breath, terrified by the possible answers. Was it someone I worked with?
You know who this is, stupid bitch. Your 10,000 wasn’t enough. I want the rest.
Steven. I’d thought he was long gone. My lawyer had looked for him and found no traces of the Steven I’d known. And what did he mean by the rest? He’d taken my entire savings account. There wasn’t any more to give.
I don’t have anything else. You took everything.
I know you have more. I’ve been through your files. Meet me in 30m or I send this everywhere. Come alone!!!
A second later another text popped up. No words, just a video. Dread pooling in my stomach, I hit play. At the first frame, bile rose in my throat. It was us, Dylan and me, in the hallway the night before. His hand up my skirt, me clinging to his shoulders, my head tipped back, clearly in the middle of orgasm. Both our faces were easy to see, despite the low light in the hallway. If this got out, there would be no hiding from it.
I sank to the floor of the bathroom, my heart sick with despair. I’d had one night with Dylan. And it had been perfect. He’d been perfect. I’d spent half the time wondering if I really could be falling in love with a man I’d just met. Now, here it was. Cinderella was turning back into a pumpkin earlier than expected.
A hot tear dripped down my cheek. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay, to wake Dylan up and ask him to fix this like he’d fixed that horrible dinner the night before. Like he’d fixed Peter. He would if I asked. Somehow, he could make this problem go away too.
But could he do it faster than Steven could send that video out to news station, blogs, to anyone who’d love to use it to bring one of the rich and famous low? Maybe not. And this could ruin Dylan. It might not hurt the casino. A secret tryst in a hallway probably played well for the reputation of a guy who ran a casino. But I’d learned that afternoon that the casino was only a small part of his responsibilities.
Dylan ran Kane Enterprises with his brother and a cousin. They were involved in all sorts of businesses and had government contracts with some of them. They also had a board of directors Dylan had described as ‘a bunch of uptight old geezers’. What would those geezers do if Dylan was caught in a sex scandal? Could they push him out? It was possible, depending on how the stock was divided. I couldn’t afford to ask, not now. I knew Dylan would help me. At what danger to himself? Given how he reacted when Peter had manhandled me, Dylan might be pissed enough to go after Peter without covering his own ass.
I couldn’t let that happen. Dylan had given me more in the short time I’d known him than any other man. No one else had even come close. I wasn’t going to let Steven hurt him. Steven was my mistake. I would make him go away. My phone pinged again.
You have 27m. Then I release the video.
My finger hovered over the phone, blurry through the tears in my eyes. I didn’t want to leave. But I had to protect Dylan. Hand shaking, I typed,
I’ll be there.
To Be Continued…
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Sneak Peek
The Wedding Rescue, Book Four
Dylan
I rolled over and stretched, my arm extended for Leigha. I’d been dreaming of her. Of taking her from behind at the end of the bed while she wore nothing more than those gold heels. I reached out my hand and met cold sheets. My eyes flashed open and I scanned the bed. No Leigha.
Sitting up, I looked to the bathroom. It was dark and empty, the door hanging open. Aside from the startled rasp of my own breath, the penthouse was silent. Swearing, I leaned over, and flicked on the light beside the bed to check the clock. Three seventeen am. Getting out of bed, I took a quick walk through the rooms of the penthouse. Nothing. But then, I already knew. I felt her absence in the quiet, cool air. Leigha was gone.
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THE WEDDING RESCUE
Book One
Book Two
Book Three
Book Four
Book Five
The Wedding Rescue, Book Three
Copyright © 2015 by Alexa Wilder
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at www.alexawilder.com