Both of us have become publicity shy, and we have learned to guard our privacy fiercely. Neither of us wants paparazzi helicopters swooping overhead, or the frightening packs of paparazzi that seem prepared to do anything just to get that one clear, unique shot they can sell for hundreds of thousands of pounds, gathered outside the gates.
Neither did we want the media circus that ensues when famous guests are jetted in from the four corners of the Earth, or magazine photographers to be present to record the occasion for posterity or a six figure sum.
When Cash asked me where I wanted to have our wedding I didn’t even have to think. I couldn’t, in fact, I still can’t think of a more beautiful place for us to tie the knot than the old Georgian walled garden of the new home that we just bought, renovated and lovingly furnished, but have not moved into yet. It is a magical house and we both fell in love with its beauty, proportions, and tranquility at first glance.
Since we wanted a special occasion in front of only our loved ones we kept our wedding so hush hush that even the caterers were hired under an assumed name from the county of Shropshire, all the wedding guests were sworn to secrecy, and my aunt acted as the wedding planner. Even the minister flew in from Scotland. About five weeks ago we went to see the registrar who granted us a special license so that nobody would find out.
I feel a lump in my throat as the car turns into the tall iron gates. Our home. The car goes down the lantern lit driveway and stops outside the garden gate. My father opens the door, and I come out of the car.
‘Are you ready?’ my father asks.
I nod because I can’t speak. I rest my hand on his arm and feel the strength under his sleeve as I lean slightly on it … and I have a stray thought. One day it will no longer be that strong. I look up at him.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing. I love you, Daddy,’ I whisper.
‘I love you, more,’ he whispers, as we round the corner and come to the secret door hidden in the seven feet tall hedges.
At the entrance to the garden, Cora waits with Tabitha and Leah’s sister. Cora looks lovely in a cream suit and the girls are wearing their little pink frocks and carrying their baskets of flower petals. Cora dabs her eyes. She always was a soppy romantic.
‘Oh, Tori, I’m so happy for you,’ she whispers.
She opens the door and my jaw drops. This was Cash’s surprise for me. The whole place is like a magical wonderland with fairy lights everywhere you look. On the trees, the hedges, the leaves, the chairs the guests are sitting on, and the rose arbor where my groom is waiting for me.
He has turned to watch me arrive. He is wearing a blue-grey morning suit. His tie is made from the same orange material as my dress. And … Oh my, it is like the first time. Butterflies go wild in my tummy and I can’t stop grinning. Sometimes I still can’t believe that I kissed the sexy fucking bastard and he became a prince. I try to suppress a giggle but a muffled sound escapes. It’s like a fairytale. I got my prince.
On the loud speakers Bruno Mars starts singing Marry me. The girls begin the procession and my father and I sedately walk along the path strewn with rose petals.
Cash smiles slowly at me, his eyes so full of love, my knees become like jelly and I fear I will trip and fall. I tighten my hold on my father. His other hand comes around to pat my hand. I feel grateful to him, but I can’t take my eyes off my bridegroom. Finally, we reach him and I inhale deeply.
His scent fills my nostrils. I close my eyes for a moment. So many memories. So many. The first time I wound his hair around my hand. The first time he kissed me. The first time we had sex. The first time we went on holiday. The first time … I open my eyes. His fingers touch mine. His eyes are wet. I blink.
‘You’re the most beautiful woman who ever walked this earth,’ he purrs.
‘And you’re the most beautiful man who ever walked this earth.’
His eyes twinkle. ‘I know,’ he says.
‘Oh, Cash. How I love you.’
He bends his head and whispers in my ear. ‘I’ve got a damn woodie for you.’
‘And I’m not attracted to you at all,’ I whisper. It’s our little joke now. We laugh about the days when I used to pretend I didn’t find him attractive.
‘Not even a bit?’ he asks, his eyes gleaming.
‘Nope.’
‘Then nothing has changed. It’s as it has always been and may it always be that way when we are wrinkled and can barely walk.’
Then the minister speaks and I remember we are not alone. Our families and friends are watching.
‘Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Cash Hunter and Tori Diamond in holy matrimony commended to be honorable among all; and therefore is not to be entered into lightly but reverently, passionately, lovingly and solemnly. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together let them speak now or forever hold their peace.’
He gives it a pause, then smiles, looks to Cash and says, ‘Repeat after me: I, Cash Hunter, take you Tori Diamond to be my wife.’
Cash repeats.
‘To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse,’
Cash says the words looking deeply into my eyes.
‘In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish.’
I smile tremulously as Cash says the words.
‘From this day forward until death do us part.’
The minister turns to me.
‘I, Tori Diamond, take you, Cash Hunter, to be my husband.’
‘I, Tori Diamond,’ I say, and then laughter starts bubbling up my throat. I see Cash’s eyes widen with surprise and that makes me laugh even more. I’m not laughing because it’s funny, but I just can’t help it. ‘Take you, Cash Hunter.’ More giggles. I hear the audience start giggling too. Oh, my God. What a disaster. I don’t know why I can’t stop laughing.
‘I’m really sorry,’ I apologize to the minister, who is staring at me with a strange expression.
‘It’s just nerves. Let me start again,’ I say, clearing my throat. ‘I, Tori Diamond,’ I manage, and another fit of laughter overtakes me.
Cash looks at the minister. ‘Do you mind?’ he asks.
‘Of course not,’ the startled minister replies immediately.
Catching me around the waist, Cash swoops down and takes my mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. Time rolls back and I am back to our first kiss. It is an instant cure for my laughing fit.
He lifts his head and looks into my dazed eyes.
‘Do you, Tori Diamond, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?’ the minister asks quickly.
‘I do. Oh, yes, I definitely do.’
That night the sound of laughter, music, and dancing fills the air for hours. Most of the guests are staying in the house and they disappear into one of the twenty-seven rooms. Cash carries me up the stairs, lays me on our bed, and makes love to me for hours, beautiful, passionate love. At first I’m a bit nervous, but the fact that he’s really mine is sinking in.
In the early morning hours when I would have dropped off to sleep, he tugs my hand.
‘Put some clothes on. I want to show you something.’
‘Show me tomorrow,’ I say sleepily.
He will have none of it. He pulls me out of bed and wraps me up in a thick dressing gown.
He opens our bedroom door softly. Everyone is fast asleep and the house is very still. He turns to me and places a finger across his lips. Quietly we go down the stairs and hallway and out through the front doors.
‘Where are we going?’ I whisper.
‘To the lake.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes, now.’
He takes my hand and starts running. By the time we get to the lake I am out of breath and hot. I look around me in wonder. I had no idea when we bought the house that a lake at night would be so peaceful and serene, with a mist hanging over it. A pair of sleeping swans are floating on the water. They glow in the early
light of the day.
‘Look,’ he says, pointing into the trees.
‘What?’
‘It is the beginning of the rutting season for the red deer. Soon the stag will begin his impressive roaring contest to attract the hinds. In eight months we will see their offspring.’
We sit on the grass and watch that large stag roar and call to his harem. The sound is earthy and truly impressive and reverberates in the still countryside. As the day breaks he begins to mount them. It is so beautiful. Without this precious act there would be no deer, no human, no swans. I rest my head on Cash’s shoulder. All girls dream of finding their prince. Mine is no longer a dream.
Last Look Epilogue
Tori
5 Years Later
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGorjBVag0I
In the silence we stand. There is no denying we want each other, an inferno of lust lights our eyes, even the air crackles between us. I smile nervously as Cash begins to walk towards me, all alpha and broodingly sexy. My heart hammers like any of his thousands of adoring screaming female fans. Then his breath is a delicious hot breeze on my neck as he fists my hair and walks me backwards and up against the coldness of the wall.
I always come to him after he has performed. He’s always the same. So high with adrenaline that it infects me too, and we tear at each other in a wild frenzy. I watch him, my heart beating with the thunder of desire, as the sweat drips off him. Wetness seeps through my panties, and my nipples pebble as his muscular body presses me tighter to the wall.
He grabs me possessively, rips my dress open, and cups my breasts together. Then his glorious mouth descends and he sucks hard at my nipples, sending crazy sensations coursing through all my nerve ends. I crave him like an addict.
He flicks his tongue from nipple to nipple, teasing and biting until I’m lost in sensual madness I barely feel his hand move my soaked panties to the side. My head rocks back with pure pleasure as he slips his fingers deep inside me.
‘Fuck, you’re so fucking wet,’ he growls.
‘I can’t wait anymore,’ I cry. It’s a wild sound.
He hoists me up and holds my throbbing sex over the tip of his erect shaft, and watches me shudder when our flesh touches before he drives his cock into my depths.
I grip his broad shoulders and look into eyes full of fiery passion. I feel his strong hot hands clasp my ass cheeks and bury his cock balls deep inside me. I close my eyes and throw my head back in sheer ecstasy. I can hear his heartbeat and the wet sound of our flesh slapping until my head starts swirling. I dig my fingernails into his skin. My body is in the grip of the most intensely deep orgasm.
'Oh, my God, I'm coming,’ I scream.
I feel his whole body stiffen and his rhythm increases dramatically.
'Me too, babe.'
I'm holding him so tight as I feel his cock jolt inside me and then throb uncontrollably inside my sex, I'm surprised that he can still hold me up let alone continue to pile drive into my grasping channel. But he just slams that cock in and out until every drop of cum has been drained from it. When he's finally finished I lean back and look into his satisfied face.
'That was fucking awesome, Mr. Hunter.'
‘That's what I fucking love about you, Mrs. Hunter.'
'Yeah, and what's that?'
‘You ain't like any of the other girls.'
I roll my eyes. 'Well you've known enough!'
'That’s right, baby. I’ve met tens of thousands and not one of them can hold a candle to you.' His tongue traces my neck slowly and sensually. His cock is still inside me, pulsing and throbbing.
My hand splays on his chest. ‘I want to tell you a secret.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Go on then.’
I bite my lip. ‘You know that room next to our bedroom that we never use. I think we’ll need it in about … say … nine months’ time.’
He stares at me incredulously. ‘What? When? How?’
‘When, I just answered, how, you know how, and what? I don’t know yet. I hope it’s a boy, though.’ I grin. ‘He can protect his younger sister.’
He takes a breath so shaky I hear it tremble through his chest. He looks at me with wonderment. ‘We’ll have to buy baby formula,’ he says in a hushed voice.
I start to laugh. ‘Oh, Cash. I love you so, so, so much.’
The End
Hey Romance Lover,
If you are lusting for a bad boy like Cash Hunter, there’s not much we can do, but if you found yourself licking your lips over Cora Bennet’s luscious scones, then here’s the recipe. :) They will be good the day after baking, but are best straight from the oven.
SCONES
Makes 8 large wedges
INGREDIENTS
• 500g plain flour
• 65g caster sugar
• 2 tbsp baking powder
• 130g cold butter, cut into cubes
• 420ml double cream, plus a little more for brushing on scones
• 1 large egg
METHOD
Preheat the oven to 200C/gas mark 6.
Flour a 23cm cake tin and line a baking sheet with baking parchment.
Sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder and half a teaspoon of salt. Add the butter and rub it in with your fingertips until the mixture is crumbly with little pea-sized bits of flour-coated butter.
Lightly beat the cream and egg together in a small jug. Make a well in the centre of the flour and gradually add the cream, mixing it in with a butter knife.
Mix just until everything comes together – don’t over mix. The dough will be quite sticky.
Put this into the floured cake tin and carefully pat the dough evenly into place. Turn the dough out on to a lightly floured surface and cut the round into eight equal wedges.
Put these on the baking sheet. Brush with the extra double cream.
Transfer to the oven and cook for about 30 minutes. The scones should be golden brown. Leave to cool for five minutes then serve warm.
These are actually still good two days later (well, not quite as good, but they don’t deteriorate the way other scones do – just keep them in an airtight container).
http://bit.ly/29e9CjD
Perfect Strawberry Jam
Makes 4 x 200ml jars
INGREDIENTS
2kg small ripe strawberries
1.7kg jam sugar
Juice of 2 lemons
METHOD
1. Hull the strawberries and discard any rotten ones. Set aside about 10 of the smallest berries, and then mash the rest up into a rough pulp. Put into a wide, thick-bottomed pan, add the sugar and the lemon juice, and bring to the boil. Add the remaining strawberries to the pan, and put a saucer in the freezer.
2. Boil the jam for about 15 minutes, stirring regularly checking the setting point every minute or so during the last 5 minutes. To do this, take the cold saucer out of the freezer, put a little jam on it, and put it back in to cool for a minute. If it wrinkles when you push it with your finger, then it's done. Strawberry jam is unlikely to set very solid though, so don't expect the same results as you would with a marmalade.
3. Take off the heat and skim off the pink scum. Pour into sterilised jars and cover with a disc of waxed paper, seal and store.
http://bit.ly/29hFkCg
Coming on the 19th of August …
Noah’s story - Preview
One
Noah Abramovich
“Boys will be boys, young men must sow their wild oats,
and women must not expect miracles.”
- Little Women, 1869
Tasha Evanoff! Blonde, blue eyes, plump mouth, and skin so white, it is almost blue, until summer comes, then, it turns wheat-gold.
What the fuck is she doing at the door of my office.
For a fraction of a second I actually think I must be dreaming. How can I not be? In that frozen instant I hear babushka’s throaty old voice again.
‘Li
sten carefully to me, Noah. The moment a newborn baby emerges into the harsh light of this world it loses its magic. It adjusts and plays the game of life, but the powerful desire for the return of its magic never goes away. The urge sits beyond the reach of memory and waits, because sometimes if a man is very, very lucky his magic will cross paths with him again.’
Tasha Evanoff is my magic.
Not a living soul knows this, but I have secretly lusted after her for years. I forced my eyes not to follow around her father’s magnificent living rooms, or stare at her beautiful bikini-clad body lying on the sun lounger by the pool because I knew our worlds were never meant to collide.
Today she has wandered unbidden into mine.
Closing the door she leans seductively against it her sexual energy radiating across the room. She is dressed exactly the way I expect the daughter of an obscenely rich and corrupt man to dress. A flawlessly cut, knee-length white dress teamed with a soft-pink cardigan, and low heeled, round-toed, immaculately white pumps. Her only adornments are a subtle string of dusky white pearls grazing her throat and velvet black clips holding her shining curtain of shoulder-length hair back from her face.
The intention behind her choice of attire is obviously not erotic. Virginal even, but the sexual tension coming from her fizzes between us like a bottle of shaken champagne. It puts my nerves on high alert.
I stand.
‘Hello, Noah,’ she drawls. Her father is a Russian bastard, but her mother comes from British blue-blood stock and her accent is pure upper class.
‘Why are you here, Tasha?’ I ask. My body is taut and hormones are buzzing all over the place, but my voice comes out flat and devoid of all expression.
‘Surely, you’re going to allow me to sit first,’ she says with a hint of irritation.
‘Of course,’ I say, waving towards the chairs opposite my desk.
She walks towards the chair on the left, slips into it and puts her knees firmly together. Her eyes are beautiful blue stars, the pupils, dark pits of nothing.
Would you like a drink?’ I offer politely.
The Bad Boy Wants Me: A Bad Boy Romance Page 22
