by Kylie Parker
Mary appears and pushes me back into the room with the next dress. It is a silk dress in a peach color. I hate it. It does not complement my pale skin tone and blonde hair. I pop my head out, not bothering to put the gown on, “This is a definite no. Got something else?”
She chuckles, “I do. Let's try something more classic.”
Mary brings me a royal blue sleeveless gown that I instantly fall in love with. I snatch it, shut the door and quickly put the dress on. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The shoulders are covered in diamond sequins that follow the deep V in front. There is just enough cleavage showing to be attractive without being too much. The waist is accented with a high upside down V outlined in more diamonds before flowing into a straight floor-length skirt. The chiffon skirt is light and allows for plenty of movement.
This is the one. This is the one I will wear, but I want Dylan to be surprised. I take off the dress and quickly put on my old clothes.
When I step out, I can see the disappointment on Dylan's face before he gives me a knowing grin. He knows exactly what I am up to. A girl has to keep a man on her toes I think to myself.
“This is the one, Mary. I think a pair of white or sequin shoes would be perfect with it.”
Mary steps forward, already carrying a pair of beautiful blue heels with sequins across the strap, “I think these would work.”
I laugh. The woman already knew that would be the dress.
“Thank you. I truly appreciate your help,” I tell her, feeling a little guilty I didn't spend more time trying on other gowns, but I don't see the point. The blue gown is perfect.
She snaps her fingers and within moments, the dresses and carts are being pushed out of the room. Another man approaches me, walks around me, nodding his head. I look at him, debate kicking him but hesitate.
“Hi,” he says enthusiastically shaking my hand. “I'm Ricky and I'll be doing your hair and makeup for the night. I'm thinking up-do. I saw the dress and I think a pretty, slightly messy bun will showcase those beautiful shoulders and that slender neck.
He looks to Dylan, “What do you think?”
“Yes,” he says, staring at my neck. I can practically feel his lips on me, making me quiver. I wonder if we have time for a quickie?
My new fiance can read my mind and gives me a look of frustration and longing before saying, “You need to get ready. We are due to leave in two hours.” He says the words with a great deal of disappointment.
“It won't take me that long to get ready,” I blurt out, hoping for at least five minutes alone with him.
Ricky gives a forced laugh, “Oh honey, two hours is a marathon. We have hair and makeup and then we have to get you all tucked into that dress.”
I look at Dylan, begging him to give me a little something before I'm stuffed in that gown. I can't go to some fancy gala in my current state. Dylan is my addiction and I just need a small hit.
He stands, “Ricky, give us a few minutes.” He grabs my hand and drags me up the stairs. Each step increases my desire. I stare at his ass and can barely keep my hands off. I don't know how I have managed to get so lucky, but I want to take full advantage of that luck and enjoy every inch of my future husband's body.
Dylan doesn't stop moving once we reach the top of the stairs and drags me into what I assume is his bedroom. He stops the second he gets through the door and starts yanking at my clothing, his mouth on my neck, practically eating me alive.
I want to participate, but I can't seem to catch up. His hands are everywhere and his mouth is sucking, licking and biting at such a rapid pace I am forced to lean back and let it happen. Resistance is futile. My jeans drop to the floor. I hear a tearing sound and realize he has ripped the thin fabric of my panties.
“I'm sorry. I have to have you now,” he grunts before hoisting me up against the wall and driving into me with such a force I shout out.
He pushes me up and then drops me down again, pushing higher into me. I can't breathe. My heart is racing as his mouth moves to my breasts, biting and sucking.
“Dylan,” I manage to get out. “Dylan, oh my, God. Harder, please,” I find myself saying, when I intended to tell him to slow down. My body was in complete chaos with the sensations flooding over every nerve ending.
I start to fall into a darkness, like a sea of complete and total ecstasy as my body tingles and clenches with orgasm. I hear him growl, but can only ride the tidal wave. I want to respond and encourage him, but I can't. My body spasms over and over as the climax stretches on and on. Maybe it was two or three orgasms—I don't know. All I know is my body responds to him of its own volition.
I feel something soft against my back and my eyes pop open. Dylan is over me.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
I realize I am laying on the bed. I don't even remember getting here. He put me into a sex coma. That was one hell of a quickie. Dylan has turned quickies into the most erotic and satisfying activities on this planet.
I smile and slowly nod, “Better than okay.”
He slowly withdraws, “Good. We have to get moving. I'll tell Ricky you are going to shower. Make it fast, though. The guy tends to get a little panicked.”
I nod, standing on shaky legs, “Who is he?”
Dylan laughs, “He is my hairstylist. He has designated himself the head of my so-called glam squad, but I will share him with you. I think he will be thrilled to be on your team. I tell him all the time I can brush my own hair, but he is horrified by the thought.”
I nod, another one of Dylan's employees that he pays for a service he doesn't need. This is why I am marrying the man. Behind that cold, business-like demeanor, the guy is a big marshmallow.
27
Dylan
I anxiously pace back and forth downstairs. I don't know why I am acting as nervous as a teen boy going on his first date. The small box in my hand feels like a lead ball. It is making my palms sweat. No, it isn't the box. It is what I am about to do. I feel a combination of anxiousness, dread and excitement.
“You're a sweetheart, Ricky,” I hear Alexa say from above.
My heart picks up it's normally steady rhythm to the point I feel as if I have been on the treadmill running at full speed. I look up, waiting for the moment I will lay eyes on her. I already know she is going to look beautiful but the vision that appears before me is beyond my expectations.
Ricky has a hold of her elbow, helping her down the stairs. My mouth is hanging open. I know it is. I want to be cool and debonair but my jaw seems to be broken. It won't close. I can only stare at her.
Once she hits the bottom step, Ricky socks me in the arm, “Close your mouth big boy. Here is your lovely lady. I think she is one of my best works yet.”
Alexa nervously laughs. I know she is expecting me to say something, but I am at a loss of words.
“Gorgeous,” I grunt, trying to catch my breath so I can form coherent sentences.
“There you go. Use your words,” Ricky says.
I shoot him a glare. He laughs and quickly excuses himself. I glance around the apartment. We are alone. Thank God. Making a complete jackass out of myself in front of her is one thing, but an audience is a whole other level of embarrassment.
“I am, you are,” I stutter before taking a deep breath and pulling my shit together. “Alexa, you are truly the most stunning woman I have ever seen. You make my heart race. I am blown away by how beautiful you are, inside and out. I cannot wait to have you by my side as my wife.”
I pull the box out of my pocket, drop to my knee and hold out the ring for her to inspect.
She gasps, “Dylan!”
I wait, waiting for her to say the words, then realize I never technically asked the question, “Alexa, will you marry me?”
She laughs, nods and I can see a tear slide out from the corner of her eye. Ricky won't like that.
“Of course. I already said yes! Get up here before you get your tux dirty,” she says, pulling me up.
I sli
de the ring on her finger. It looks good.
“This is amazing, Dylan. How did you get a ring--” she stops. “Never mind. The same way you managed to pull off this off I suppose.”
“There's one more thing,” I say, walking to the small side table, grabbing the rectangular box and taking it to her. “You need this, Ricky says so.”
She looks at the box and shakes her head, “I can't. Dylan, you don't have to buy me all this stuff. This is too much.”
I shrug, “You are going to be the wife of a very wealthy man. If you show up to a black tie event without jewelry, people are going to think I'm a pauper. That would have a very negative impact on my business.”
Alexa rolls her eyes, “Sure it will. Fine, let me see what we have in here.” She grabs the box, opens it and again, I can see a little tear snaking down her cheek. Ricky is going to kill me.
I take the diamond necklace out of the box and motion for her to turn around. My fingers brush the back of her bare neck as I gently fasten the clasp.
“I don't know what to say,” she whispers. “I truly feel like Cinderella. You are spoiling me. I love it and you,” she says, unshed tears sparkling in her eyes.
I lean in and kiss her, “I am proud to call you my fiance. Are you ready?”
She nods. I know I should have said the three little words, but I couldn't. I don't love her. How can I love someone I have only known for a short time. I don't even really know what love is. I know she is disappointed, but I'll make up for it in other ways.
We step into the foyer where Ricky is waiting. He looks over Alexa, tsks as he dabs some weird looking stick over the area on her face where the tears had fallen and declares her ready.
I mentally prepare myself for an evening of questions and a lot of gossip. The six carat ring on her finger will get the message across without me having to say much at all. It was a calculated move that ensures the talk of the town will be about me turning over a new leaf as a married man. Now, to get Alexa to the altar as quickly as possible.
Blake has assured me the Larsens' software deal is still a possibility if we move fast. Apparently, the youngest Garwood brother has been a naughty boy. An anonymous tip led the media to the little black book of a local madam. Turns out, Garwood is the one with a dungeon in his basement.
28
Alexa
Three Months Later
I stretch my arms up and over my head. I slept like the dead last night. I hadn't realized how tired I was until my head hit the pillow. It must be jet lag. After the wedding, Dylan took me to Paris, where we spent a long, leisurely two weeks. He promises it is the first of many trips around the world.
My life has been a blur the past few months. Dylan managed to help me put together a wedding fit for a princess. Most people took a year to plan a wedding, I had 10 weeks. With a small army, we managed to pull it off. I can't help but smile as I think back to that day.
The man is my prince. I stretch my arm out to his spot in the bed and feel a little sad that it is empty. I know he isn't in bed beside me. He had a business meeting in Chicago yesterday and won't be back until later today. While I miss him terribly, I am secretly a little relieved to have been able to go to bed early last night without feeling guilty about ignoring my husband.
I fight back a sudden onset of nausea. I skipped dinner last night, which has left my stomach screaming for food. I am convinced I picked up some kind of bug while we were in Paris. We did eat at a lot of weird places and I ate things I had never tried before. Won't be making that mistake again.
The apartment is quiet as I head downstairs to the kitchen. Dylan employs a full staff of people, one of them being a chef who leaves all kinds of tasty snacks in the fridge. I pull out a bagel slathered with cream cheese and start munching on it before making my way to the office Dylan and I are currently sharing. He plans on having the apartment remodeled to make room for another office.
I quit my job and have signed on to work full time for Hawke Enterprises. I am one of many lawyers the company employs. My niche is focused more on Dylan's personal interests with the understanding I will oversee contract negotiations as well.
While I wait for my laptop to start up, I look for the file I had yesterday. It has information about a company Dylan was trying to buy. It was the deal I was working on when I first met Dylan. Apparently, the negotiations had been shelved, but were back on the table. Blake had asked me to give the contract a once over. I had already looked at it before and made notes, but he said there were new terms that needed to be added. He had a messenger deliver the latest information yesterday.
There are various notes from the other party and a list of items that must be addressed before the deal can proceed. This is the part I love. I love the negotiating and wearing the other side down until my client gets what he or she wants. It's a challenge that I thrive on.
I grab my pen and jot down notes on another sheet of paper. I freeze when I come to a small note written in the sidebar. I see my name and quickly turn the paper to see it better.
Told them you will be married to Alexa. That'll get them off our ass.
I go back and reread the line item. I can't believe what I am reading; Purchaser must be willing to adhere to a lifestyle in line with the Larsen's Software company morals and values.
What the hell?
I scan the rest of the pages. I see various mentions about Dylan and his branding. There's another note mentioning Nathan is working on getting interviews set up. I realize they expect me to give interviews about my life and marriage with the CEO and president of Hawke Enterprises. There are even notes about what I am supposed to say.
A cold chill runs through my veins as my mind starts to put together various pieces of a very awful puzzle. I'm a prop. I am a means to an end. I yank open the desk drawer and start rifling through the various files tucked away.
I find one with my name on it and open it. It's a background check. Someone has written a note indicating my story is perfect and will be a real “rags to riches” that appeals to the media. Another note on the back page indicates the investors are thrilled with Dylan's choice and are excited to see how the marriage will improve profits.
My stomach turns as my fairy tale implodes in front of my face. I can't seem to catch my breath. Within seconds, I feel the bagel coming back to haunt me and barely make it in time to grab the trash can. I heave until there is nothing left. I feel as if my very soul has been ripped from my body.
“Dylan,” I whisper into the empty room. “How could you?” I ask.
I sit in the chair, staring at the evidence of his scheme to marry me and get the investors back in his corner. In another file, I find a letter from the investors outlining their concerns with his reputation. The incident at the club is the reason for the letter. They include various catch phrases used by the media and suggest he seek help for his problems. Rehab is tossed around with the letter giving him an ultimatum, either he shows a more mature, serious side or they pull their money.
Obviously, marrying me was in an effort to save his ass. My initial hurt quickly turns to anger. He used me. My mind replays some of our most intimate moments and it is then I realize he has never said he loves me. I have told him countless times and he always responds with “me too” or distracts me with a kiss.
I cannot believe what a fool I have been.
“Joke's on you, Dylan Hawke. We'll see who gets the last laugh.”
I storm out of the room, plotting my revenge. The pain and devastation threaten to take over, but I push the emotions down. I have to stay mad or I will crumble. I will never let him see how badly he has hurt me.
Want More? Click here to read Man Candy Book 5
29
Dylan
It's only been a day, but I miss her. I miss her terribly. My meeting went long and it is well after midnight when I land back in California. By the time I get home, I know she will be dead to the world. Alexa has been struggling to get back on track since we got home
from France. She has never traveled before, so I assume it takes some getting used to.
When Daniel pulls up in front of my building, I practically jump out. I can't wait to snuggle up to her body. Although I want sex, if she wants to sleep, I can wait. Just holding her and being next to her will do for now.
The moment the elevator doors slide open, I practically bound inside and up the stairs. I slow down, dropping my briefcase outside the door and quietly open the door. I want to surprise her, not scare the shit out of her. I strip as I walk to the bed, pulling off my briefs before carefully pulling back the blanket to slide in.
I do my best not to jostle the bed as I crawl in and move to her side. There is a faint realization that I have crossed the whole width of the king size bed and she isn't in it. Like an idiot, I reach my arm out to make sure I didn't miss her. She is small, but not that small.
I roll over, flip on the bedside lamp and stare at the empty bed. What the hell?
Maybe she's in the kitchen and I walked right past her. I slip on my briefs and stroll back down the stairs and into the dark kitchen. I already know she isn't in here, but I turn on the light and look anyway. Standing in the empty living room, with my hands on my hips, I slowly turn, trying to figure out where she may be.
“Alexa!” I call out, waiting for her reply. Nothing. “Alexa!” I shout louder this time.
When I don't hear her, I take the stairs, two at a time and head towards her old room, throwing the door open and flipping on the light, I verify it's empty. Then begin an all out search of every room in the house. This is not easy when your house is as big as mine.
It's empty. I'm alone. As I stare out the large windows, an idea hits me. Maybe she went up to the third floor and can't get back down. Running for the elevator, I quickly punch in the code to go to the top floor of the building. When the doors slide open, it is eerily dark. There is no way she is up here.
