by Nadia Lee
“You don’t have to bother,” I say.
“Ryder’s letting me drive his Ferrari,” she says casually. “I’m pretty sure it’s more fun now that the traffic’s died out some.”
Nonny’s eyes go round. “You drive his Ferrari?”
“Until he gets back, anyway. You want a ride?”
She spins toward me. “Oh my gosh, can I go with Elizabeth? Please?”
I want to tell her no, but the word sticks in my throat. My sister’s eyes are brighter than the sun, and she’s clasping her hands together in unconscious prayer.
Elliot leans over. “She’ll be fine. Elizabeth is an excellent driver.”
“I promise she’ll get home in one piece,” Elizabeth says.
“Yes, and I’ll go straight to bed when I get home!” Nonny adds.
“Har har. You’ll be too busy texting your friends about the experience. But okay. Ten minutes of texting and then straight to bed and to sleep.”
“Deal,” she says, even though her mouth is slightly pursed.
Elizabeth stands, says her goodbyes, and Nonny follows her out around the blue oceanic wall.
I nurse my sparkling water. “What is this about really?” I blurt out. The question’s been in the back of my mind during the entire dinner.
“Meeting the family before the deed,” he says.
“Your parents—”
“No. Hopefully you’ll never meet them.”
I stiffen, but put on a smile. My throat is tight. It’s absurd that his words cut so deep. Good god. I know he thinks the best I can be is a cleaning lady or a stripper or a hooker. Just because he’s marrying me temporarily—in what’s obviously going to be a rushed ceremony—doesn’t mean that’s changed or he actually has any respect for me. He’s just a crazy rich guy with some weird eccentric need I know nothing about.
I don’t think his half-sister does either from the way she reacted—well, didn’t react— to “Gigi”.
He leans closer. “Don’t read anything into it.” Something dark passes in his eyes as his breath feathers over my lips. “Like you said earlier, it’s just a year.”
His hand closes around the back of my neck the exact instant his mouth fits over mine. He tastes me with slow licks, and there’s a sound deep in his throat like I’m the most sinful dessert he’s ever had. His fingers stroke the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck, and shivers race over me. He possesses my mouth with absolute surety—it’s a given that I’m his. His dominance pulls at me. I tilt my head so we can fit better, and I can get a better taste of him.
There’s fiery liquor underneath the decadent chocolate and something dangerously primitive and untamed. My body responds to the last with unabashed hunger. Even as he consumes me with a kiss full of lush heat, I too am devouring him to fill the void inside me, driven by a need I’ve never felt before. I strain to get closer, desperate for more of him. My nipples pucker and peak, and the slickness spreads to my inner thighs.
“Damn, you’re hot,” he grinds out. His mouth is back on mine as his big hands push at the hem of my dress; he pulls me over, onto his lap, my legs positioned indecently on each side of his thighs.
His hands knead my ass through the thin fabric, and the touch only inflames my already heated body. My nerves tingle there; I had no idea my butt was this sensitive. The cool air against my already overheated clit and sex drives me crazy. The contrast only sharpens my need.
I pant as his hot mouth traces my cheeks, my jaw. I can’t focus on anything else but the sensations he arouses in me, how much I crave him.
“Hold on to the table,” he orders, his voice rasping over me.
My hands wrap around the edge of the table behind me. The position arches my back, thrusting my breasts forward. My wet folds hover a few inches above his crotch, and my pelvis rolls in the air, desperate for him.
“Jesus, I knew it,” he says, pushing the skirt of my dress out of the way. “Fuck.” His fingers run over the swollen tissues below. I rock against them, mindless. He pushes a finger inside, his thumb at my clit. “You’re tight,” he grinds out.
I don’t care if he’s complaining or just making a statement of fact. The only thing that matters right now is that he has a finger inside me and with one hand is destroying everything I thought I knew about sex.
“More,” I demand in a throaty voice, greedy for him.
“Oh, don’t worry.” He slowly pushes another finger into me, and it’s all I can do to not scream.
My breathing is shallow, my rib cage barely moving as I struggle for air. Tight knots form in my belly as he finds that special spot inside and simultaneously runs his thumb over my clit over and over again. Every cell in my body vibrates, waiting and hoping…
If all this ends in another of those soft pops of tension I’ve experienced before, I think I’ll cry.
His heated gaze is mesmerizing. I can’t seem to look away, even though it’s far too much for my overloaded system. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster that’s slowly inching toward the peak…
Curling the fingers inside me, he wraps his mouth around a nipple, dress and all, and sucks hard. The silken fabric rubs against my tender breast, and his teeth clamp hard enough to send a sharp sting through my body, soon followed by the soothing feel of his tongue. The pain pushes me over the edge, and I go into free fall. Molten pleasure cascades over me; it’s like plunging into a volcano of euphoria. Blackness hovers over me, but I can’t muster an ounce of worry as I fall apart in Elliot’s arms.
“My god…” I hear myself repeat that like a mantra. I’m shaking all over, uncontrollably, and he gathers me in and rocks me.
I don’t know how long we remain seated like that. Our server doesn’t come by to check up on us, so maybe it isn’t that long.
Elliot licks his fingers leisurely like they’re covered in syrup. His eyes glitter darkly, and I squirm at how openly carnal he is. I’ve never met a man like this before.
When he’s done, he presses a kiss at my sweat-misted temple. His hard erection presses against my backside, but he doesn’t make any move to take his turn.
“Haven’t you ever had an orgasm before?” he asks, his breath feathering against my ear.
My neck seems to shrink, and my skin grows hot. “Of course,” I shoot back.
I steal a quick glance his way. His eyes are too penetrating.
“It’s…” I shake my head. My sexual history isn’t something I want to discuss, even with a man I’m going to marry…and even if he just gave me the most mind-shattering climax ever. “Stop being so smug. I knew you had a big head, but this is too much.” I lay a hand on his cock. Speaking of big heads. It’s huge, much bigger than I realized, and rock hard. “Do you want…?”
“No. I don’t have a condom, and when I come with you for the first time, it’s going to be in your cunt.”
My face flames. I can’t decide which is worse—the fact that he’s being crude or that it’s turning me on.
He pulls the pins out of my hair and arranges it so it hides the wet spot over my breast. Then, putting an arm around my waist, he escorts me around the blue wall, through the other tables of diners, and out of the building, his strength lending extra support to my unsteady legs.
Chapter Sixteen
Elliot
Unsatisfied desire courses through my body. The drive from the crappy apartment complex takes an hour, but it doesn’t matter. My dick’s hard enough to break a brick.
I don’t give a fuck what she says. I’m pretty certain she’s never had an orgasm before. Or maybe only really shitty ones. It was in the way she clutched me, making small, desperately sad noises in her throat, like she was so certain the final payoff wouldn’t come.
Just thinking about that makes me angry on her behalf. Who the hell denies a woman her orgasm? At the same time, I’m honest enough to admit I’m pleased I rocked her world like no other man before.
It was all I could do not to sweep everything off the table and fuck her righ
t there at the restaurant, but I’m pretty sure the servers would’ve noticed at that point. I don’t give a damn about scandalizing them, but Elizabeth definitely would, since the owner is her dearest cousin. And she’s the only woman whose opinion I care about.
Next time, my new wife and I are going to be private, and I’m going to hear her scream my name until her voice goes hoarse.
My phone rings. Elizabeth.
“Yes?” I say.
“Are you alone?” she asks.
“Uh-huh.” I put the phone on speaker and get myself some scotch. “Did you get the girl home?”
“Yeah. She could barely sit still the entire time. I thought she might start kissing the dashboard.”
“Why?” Ryder’s Ferrari is nice, but it’s not worthy of idolatry.
“Because Ryder touched it.” I can hear an eye roll in her voice. As much as Elizabeth loves him, she’s also aware of his shortcomings. So she thinks it’s pretty silly that women fall to their knees at the sight of him. “Anyway…” She pauses. “Gigi’s not what I expected.”
“What were you expecting?” I say, although I kind of know. Elizabeth was expecting a stripper because that’s what I told her I was after. I haven’t told my half-sister about the other aspects of my fiancée, since I still don’t know what to make of her working as a cleaning lady or rejecting my offer of three thousand dollars for sex. Actually…maybe she turned the money down because she didn’t realize how good I could make the rest of it for her. I squint a little, thinking about the idea.
“Somebody more shallow and silly. Just the woman you said you want.”
And like a lot of women I’ve banged over the years. “So?”
“Are you settling down for real like Ryder?”
The scotch takes the wrong pipe. I choke, then cough as alcohol burns in my nose. “Oh shit. God. Hell no. Besides, who says he’s settling down for real?” I ask, although I know she’s right.
“Have you seen the way he looks at Paige?”
“Have you seen the way I look at my girl?” The possessive term slips out as naturally as breathing. I wince, going for more alcohol.
A long pause. “You’re right.”
“Finally. Some common sense. Look, sis, stop worrying about me. Worry about yourself.”
“Me?”
“You need a husband soon. At least us guys can choose from assistants and strippers. What are you going to do? Gigolos aren’t really your thing.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “I’ll think of something.”
“And for god’s sake, don’t do a one-year thing.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re you, and you need somebody who adores you. You deserve a man who launches a thousand ships, razes cities, builds empires in your name…”
She laughs, but the sound lacks humor. “That’s so medieval. How much did you drink?”
“Nah, I’m totally sober.” I’d just hate it if she ends up with a womanizing asshole like me. The odds of that happening area really low so I’m probably worried about nothing. The girl—Gigi—wants my money, desperately so. Elizabeth is beautiful, kind, and most importantly, wealthy. Besides, her mother’s side of the family is filthy rich and über well-connected. They’d never let anything happen to her.
She sighs. “I just wonder if we’re all dancing to Dad’s tune, rushing into marriage with people we would’ve never chosen otherwise. It seems to be working out for Ryder, but I don’t know about you.”
I give a gasp of mock outrage. “Are you saying she isn’t good enough because she’s a stripper?”
“No! My gosh, don’t put words into my mouth. There’s nothing wrong with stripping. It’s honest work.”
“Well. That’s very…open-minded of you.”
“I’m not upset about her job history. I’m just not sure if both of you will be happy together for a year.”
“Sis, it’s only a year.”
“It’s three hundred and sixty-five days of your life, Elliot.” Her voice is quiet. “With the wrong person, that can feel like an eternity.”
“Jeez. When did you become so…philosophical?”
“When I realized we’re doing things that we would never do just for the paintings. I wonder if that’s what Grandpa would’ve wanted.”
She has a point. But Grandpa Thomas is gone, and Dad has his portraits… I sigh.
Grandpa was the only one in the family who cared. Dad was too busy with his various wives, and Mom was too distracted with her new husband and the life she was trying to create to ensure that Dad saw how much better off she was without him. That left no time for us, and we were shipped off to Europe for boarding schools.
For the best and the most prestigious education money can buy, they claimed. But we all knew the truth. It was the easiest and the most PR-positive way to unload us.
We spent almost every holiday with Grandpa, since he lived in Italy at that time. A world-renowned artist, he painted our portraits when we turned eighteen. They were how he saw us…in our youth, at the height of our potential. Every loving brushstroke spoke of his high regard and hopes for us, and I want mine so bad it hurts. It’s the only thing I’ll have of him.
“Don’t you want them?” I ask.
“Of course I do. It’s just…” She takes a moment. “I can’t help but wonder if this is the way to do it.”
“There is no other way, unless Dad keels over before he can change his will.”
Assuming he’s even left the portraits to us in his latest version. He could’ve very well left instructions to have them burned, for no other reason than to spite us. Dad isn’t just an asshole…he’s the entire fucking lower intestine.
A moment passes before she says, “You sure you don’t want me to attend the ceremony?”
“Yes. We’re going to do it the fastest and easiest way. It’s all a formality, nothing special.” I stretch out on the couch. “If I do find the woman of my dreams, I’ll have a grand ceremony and invite you. How about that?”
She lets out a short skeptical puff of air, but still says, “Deal.”
* * *
Annabelle
Despite her promise, Nonny’s still up. Technically she’s in bed, but she’s wide awake, so I consider that breaking the spirit of the promise.
“But it’s not my fault!” she protests. “I was in Ryder Reed’s Ferrari! It even smelled like him inside.” A dreamy smile curves her mouth, and she sighs softly.
“And how do you know what Ryder Reed smells like?”
“Because! Who else could it smell like?”
“Some Italian guy named Ferrari?”
She makes a face. “You’re no fun.” Then she suddenly sits up. “So why did Elliot call you Gigi? That’s not your name.”
“It’s a long story.” How can I tell my sister I’m going to pretend to be some woman named Gigi so Elliot can marry me and get his kicks in return for a million dollars?
“I’ve got time,” she insists in that stubborn tone of hers. It reminds me of my younger self…before everything came crashing down and I had to grow up.
“No, you don’t. You have school tomorrow.”
She pouts. “Fine. Then how come you never told me you’re dating Ryder Reed’s half-brother?”
I roll my eyes, but at least this is something I can answer without lying. “It never came up, and I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know?”
“Do you ask boys in your class if they’re related to somebody famous when you first meet them?”
Nonny’s mouth purses.
“Right. And Elliot didn’t volunteer the information. So…”
“Well I’d sure volunteer the information! I’m going to tattoo I’m related to Ryder Reed on my chest after you marry Elliot.”
“Agh! No!”
“Why not?”
“My gosh, Nonny. You’re too young for that. Besides, what if…uh…Ryder loses all his hair prematurely? You still going to be okay with the tatto
o?”
“The men in his family don’t really go bald. I checked.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “There will be no talk about tattooing in this household until you’re at least eighteen.” I give her my sternest look. “I’m serious.”
She huffs. “Fine.”
“And Nonny… Don’t breathe a word about Elliot—or Ryder—to anyone.”
“But—”
“Please.”
Her stubborn look says she won’t give in so easily.
I wrack my brain for something, and finally say, “Talking about good things too early can jinx them.”
She frowns. “You think so?”
“Yes. That’s why you don’t even think about it until it’s a done deal. It would be really bad if you didn’t get to meet Ryder Reed because you talked too soon.”
“No way! A jinx? That’s just a silly superstition.”
I shrug. “Fine. Jinx it. It’s only your chance to meet the Ryder Reed…”
“Oh my god, that’s so evil!”
I hide my smile. She wouldn’t talk even if a thousand flying monkeys came after her. “Now go to sleep. I’m going to take a shower.”
She sticks her tongue out, but drops back on the mattress and pulls the sheet up. “By the way, a bunch of boxes came for you. I put them in your section of the closet.”
They must be from the store Josephine and I went to. “Did you see what they were?” I ask.
“No. They’re all sealed.” Nonny turns. “Why?”
“Nothing.” Normally she’d show more interest, but I guess she’s too distracted by the whole Ryder Reed thing to care.
I go to the bathroom to get out of my clothes and wash away the slickness between my legs. It’s been driving me crazy, reminding me of the shameless way I responded to Elliot at the restaurant.
My skin’s still prickling, and the warm water only serves to sensitize me. I do my best to keep my touch quick and clinical, but when I clean the slipperiness between my thighs, I can’t help but hiss.
Need thickens. I want him to touch me again. I want to know if what I experienced at the restaurant was a fluke—some kind of delusion fueled by nerves and the illicitness of our location—or if it’s something more than that. Something…real.
