Marry Me Again: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

by Nicole Snow

  Remembering how the dead men threatened me, ran their vile hands all over my body, doesn't sap my excitement. I'm going to be a lot smarter today, and hang close to Chris. It's surreal how far away it seems, like it was all a bad dream.

  I wonder if that's shock setting into my brain, or if his cock has some kind of magical memory altering powers.

  Chris ignores me. He rubs his cock against my clit, dangerously close to fucking me right here. I need to stop him before he goes in bare. I've been on the pill since I turned nineteen, but I don't know if he's clean after all the women he's had, a world of experience that dwarfs my one brief night with him.

  Sex is happening before we do anything, and I'm not going to protest. It makes me smile that he hasn't gotten bored yet. I guess he really meant everything he said last night, and it's good to know it still stands, here in the full white light of a summer day in Vegas.

  “Fuck the coffee,” he growls, breaking our latest kiss. “It can wait. You wanna get up, babe? Then come with me.”

  He pulls me up from the bed and leads me by the hand, stopping only to grab his pants. Probably for more condoms.

  A minute later, we're naked behind the luxurious glass, feeling cool water splashing our backs. He eyes the rivulets running down my body like a thirsty animal, and he leans into my neck, trailing the biggest droplets down to my breasts with his tongue.

  Being so exposed, so wanted, makes me feel more self-conscious than last night. I still can't believe this sex crazed badass actually wants me.

  But I'm starting to believe it.

  He pulls at my nipples and sucks each one soft, growling into my chest, sending his vibrations deep underneath my skin. The sensation joins my blood and I moan. Our bodies sing, attuned to taste and touch, scent and sight.

  Every sense I've ever had, plus several I didn't know about, come alive like never before.

  “Put your hands against the wall, babe. Bend your hips. I'll do the rest.”

  I let out a little whine, but I'm not protesting. I'm struggling to imagine his mouth all over my slit again, or his dick mounting me from behind, slapping my ass with those forceful thrusts.

  He sinks down on his knees, and he spreads my ass cheeks. His mouth finds my pussy from a whole new angle, and I jerk my hips from the sensation. Good thing I'm boxed in by the slippery wall after all.

  I lean into it as he starts to tongue my clit. His licks alternate this time, moving from my clit to push deep inside my opening. He licks and sucks and even uses his teeth until I'm almost on the brink.

  “Let yourself go, baby,” he orders, wrapping his arms around my legs for support. “I've got you, and I'll taste every fucking drop that gushes out of your hot little cunt when you come on my tongue.”

  His tongue focuses on my clit again, but he adds two stiff fingers to my pussy too.

  Oh, shit. Oh, damn.

  Oh, oh, oh!

  My whole body explodes in another tense, five minute O. The sensation of the water striking my back makes me think of a storm, and nothing else.

  Hurricane Chris owns me, works me over the way only a man with too much carnal knowledge can. He's obsessed with my body, and I'm becoming addicted to him.

  Dangerously addicted.

  I come, bucking against his hand, his lips. A scream tries to make its way out of my mouth, but the truth is I'm too breathless, too lost in the raging pleasure ripping through me.

  I don't even notice he draws away until I start to come out of it. I feel his shadow standing over me, pulling at my hips with his hands, hearing a condom packet ripping open.

  He reaches behind me for my chin, twists my head, and makes me look at him before he fills me again. “Thought you deserved to know you're built to fuck, princess. I'm going to use the fuck outta you 'til I've spilled every drop of come in my balls. This week, and this week only, you're mine.”

  That word. It makes everything inside me coil, build, and want. Turns me so wet and horny I want to turn around and beg him to fuck me, to own me, to make me come so many times I can't stand up.

  The cruel reminder comes hidden in his need. He pulls my face to his and we lock lips. He won't stop kissing me as he pushes inside me, fucking me faster than last night.

  We fuck freely. I don't need to loosen up anymore. I have a tiny inkling what to expect from his cock.

  I can handle him and enjoy it without any crazy surprises.

  So I think, anyway, until he starts hitting stroking that spot deep inside me that causes my knees to buckle.

  “Oh. My. God.”

  Chris makes a rough sound, somewhere between a gasp and a chuckle. He quickens his thrusts, swinging the full force of his body into me, making my ass ripple. His balls swing up and slam into my pussy each time he drives deep, and I'm catapulted out of my mind.

  “Come for me again, beautiful. Come as hard as you fucking can.”

  There's no holding back. Pleasure cascades through my veins like the steady patter of the shower all over us. Somehow, he manages to hold me up, keeps me from crashing onto the tile floor.

  I'm melding with the water by the time I start coming down from my latest convulsions. And Chris won't have it, he won't let anything carry me away from him.

  His hips speed up, and he throws himself into me like a jackhammer. One hand finds its way between my legs. His fingers assault my clit, hard and wild, while I'm already on overload.

  I never thought I'd learn to come again only seconds apart. But Chris is full of surprises, and he's owning every inch of me right now.

  My eyes pop open and I gasp, holding my breath. That wave I thought I'd lost rises up all over again, and his cock hits my depths, forcing me to leap off the edge all over again.

  “Don't stop coming now, babe,” he whispers, deep and gravely. “I'll scorch you from the inside-out by the time we're done. Come with me!”

  And I do. I keep coming as he swells and explodes inside me, releasing a pent up growl from the pleasure. His hips pinch me against the wall as he fills me, pulsing deep inside me, unloading the fruits of his pleasure in that damned condom.

  We come together, hard and long, both of us straining for breath by the end of it. Chris pulls out and cleans up. Then his hands are all over me again, rubbing soap into my skin, exploring me in a calmer, tender way that still gives me butterflies.

  Our kisses say more than words can. It's too perfect, except for one little thing.

  Fucking him like this isn't enough. I need him deep inside me, bare and unsheathed, giving me those deep strokes with nothing separating his cock from my silk.

  I know I'm losing my mind when I want to feel his come inside me.

  Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? Maybe I really did lose my mind yesterday, and sex is my way of dealing with the terror.

  I have to listen to reason. We can keep having fun, but we can't go too far...right? And if we do, I might not be able to stop wanting him.

  Later, when we towel ourselves off and throw on our robes, heading out on the awesome balcony for our morning coffee, I realize I'm already in too deep.

  He had me from the very first kiss. Mine is just a highlight, an afterthought, a reminder that there's no earthly way we'll ever share the same room with a quiet heart and dry panties.

  I'm scared. I don't know how I'll ever find my way back to normal.

  8

  Under the Skin (Chris)

  By day five, I don't know what the fuck's happening to me.

  I'm spending every waking minute deep inside Delia. My dick's been everywhere by now, but it still feels like we've barely begun to explore. I've been in her hot little lips, wedged between her tits, shoved balls deep in her slick, perfect cunt, fucking her every way I know how, plus some ways I invent.

  It's ludicrous.

  I've never fucked the same woman for a full week straight in my entire life. Chris Cleveland doesn't do that shit. I get my dick wet, makes my girls happy, and then forget, disappearing every time duty call
s.

  Except this time it's not so simple. It's like she's crawled inside my skull and hot-wired my brain. I've fucked her a couple dozen times, and I still want more. I can't get enough.

  She can barely get me to leave the hotel to take her out on the town. It's not just because my dick never wants to rest. When we're out, my hands are always on her, holding her on my lap by the waist, or guiding her through the casinos and down the strip with my hand wrapped tight around hers.

  She's never getting out of my sight in this city again. We have our fun, sure.

  But having her like this only makes me rage even more about the men who almost took her away from me, pulled her into the darkness forever. I want to head back to that abandoned theater, douse their rotten bodies in gasoline, and torch them 'til they're ashes.

  Of course, I'm not an idiot, and I won't attract attention to myself. I keep scanning the local news, but nobody's found their carcasses yet. Or if they did, it was such a non-incident there'll be nothing more than a footnote about two unidentified bodies in the Vegas police blotter.

  Our last full evening out, I take her to this fancy French place. Aside from the hotel, I use all my own money. I won't take shit from her father, no matter how nice he is.

  I'll never be blue blooded rich, and I'll never be able to comprehend her fancy world. But when I'm dressed up in a nice vest and she's in her hot red dress, staring up at me over the spotless table over wine, I don't fucking care.

  My body reacts to hers at some caveman level I can't wrap my head around. Fuck it, I don't need to. All I know is I want her coiled around my dick twenty-four seven, legs spread, digging her nails deep into my flesh 'til I pump every drop of come I've got into her womb.

  I want to lose the rubber and sew her deep. I want to fuck her 'til she comes on command, sucking at my mouth like it's precious oxygen after she's been underwater. I want to feel her pussy clenching on my cock all fucking night, digging my fingers into her ass as she rides me, growling 'til my thunder matches her pulse, bending her to me forever.

  “It's been quite a week, hasn't it?” she asks shyly, twirling the burgundy in her glass.

  “Yeah, and we're damned lucky we got it too. The commander called me up last night, told me needs me back at base the day after we land. Duty calls, babe.”

  “You really take it seriously, don't you? I didn't realize until I had a chance to see your tattoos. I mean, really look at them.”

  Her eyes dance mischievously for me. Last night, I finally gave myself a breather after we exploded at least three times. She laid on my chest, running her fingers over each and every patch of ink on my skin.

  I told her about the trident on my flesh, and even the three black triangles on my left bicep. They're the newest on my skin, one for each man on our team who died in Kirkuk. I wouldn't say how or where, but I cracked and told her it was for them, something I never thought I'd tell anybody who's not a SEAL.

  Certainly not my hot, sweet, and infuriating stepsister. Yeah, the same one I need to stop fucking in about twenty-four hours, when we leave the paradise we've created here for the bland hell back in California.

  “You know what I said – my ink, my life. I don't hide behind walls, Delia. You know exactly who I am.”

  “Do I?” She quirks an eyebrow and shakes her head. “I saw what it means to be a SEAL the first night we were here. But there's a lot I don't know, Chris.”

  I shrug, tucking into my escargot. “Just ask. Stop being so shy. You ought to know there's no need for that after the things we've done since I took your cherry.”

  I say the last part under my breath, leaning in, grabbing her hand. Her fingers squeeze mine back and she blushes.

  The girl has no reason in the world to be shy. I wish she'd get over it for her own good, but damn if it doesn't make my cock throb in the meantime. Pink glows on her cheeks, and she takes an extra long sip of her wine, like there's something she's trying to find the courage to say.

  “Okay, so why is Evie such a bitch?” The way she blurts it out nearly causes me to drop my fork.

  “I'm not sure what you're getting at. Give me something specific.”

  Bullshit, I know exactly what she's saying. Too bad my mom is the last thing I want us talking about on our final night in this town. It's supposed to be about her and I, even though I know that's only going to make a clean break harder once we get home.

  “I'm worried about my dad. It's obvious to us this whole thing is a big mistake...but he's blind. He doesn't see it. She's already screwing him over, I just know it. What I haven't figured out is why.” I stare at her, trying to comprehend why she gives a shit. Our parents' problems aren't mine. “She knows about us, Chris. She came after me before we did anything, warned me to stay away from you and stop screwing you up.”

  Fuck, I temporarily lose my appetite. I pick up my glass and suck down the last of my wine before I answer, feeling it slip straight into the fire in my guts.

  “I don't give a damn what she says, and neither should you. She's always been a selfish, greedy, train wreck. Your old man's got no backbone. Tell him to break up, throw her out, and pray to God he's got himself a pre-nup before it's too late. I'm stuck dealing with her bullshit because we're blood.”

  She shakes her head sadly, staring into her onion soup. “No, he's really in love. I haven't seen him like this since mom walked out. I can't get in the middle. He has to leave her on his own. It's not my place to twist him into doing something he doesn't want to.”

  Right now, it's awfully hard to give a shit what Bruce wants. If he'd man up and leave the tornado blowing through his house, then maybe I wouldn't have to try like hell to forget Delia the instant we get off our flight in NorCal.

  It's going to be hell. I'm disappearing to base and never coming back. Every instinct I've got keeps fighting me, though.

  I can't think about anything except all the ways I want to keep kissing, touching, and fucking her, pleasures that go way beyond anything we can condense into one final night.

  “I'm just trying to figure out what I'm dealing with, Chris. What you've been dealing with all these years. What's her deal? What made her so awful?”

  I rip my last piece of escargot out of its shell the same way I pulled the trigger on Abu Alhazred before the Iranians showed up. It's gone in an instant.

  “Mom can't handle failure, Delia. She can't take getting old, losing her career, having nothing to look forward to except a few more wrinkles and half a dozen more exes, assuming she doesn't OD first. I spent two summers trying to get her off the junk before I enlisted and left her shit behind. You can't help the people who don't give a fuck about saving themselves, and Evie stopped trying around the time I was five.”

  “Jesus,” she says softly. “I read about her, you know. She wasn't always like this, right?”

  I roll my shoulders again, wishing this damned conversation would disappear, just like the delicacy sliding down my throat.

  “How the hell am I supposed to know? The past was a long time ago. She went to pieces after my old man walked out. She divorced him because he was no good for her – too poor, too savage, too violent. Mom wanted to be another Hollywood princess. Why she thought she could ever make it work with some biker badass she met at a sex club, I'll never know.”

  Delia almost chokes on her water. “What? You're kidding. That's really how your folks got together? Not that there's anything wrong with that, I mean.”

  I laugh. She's so innocent, and she really doesn't have a clue. I look her up and down, wondering if I'm drawn to her because she's giving me a chance to follow in dad's footsteps.

  Part of me wants to. I want to wreck this girl, every fucking inch of her, brand her as mine forever. I know it's insane, I know it's wrong, and fuck if I care.

  “Babe, you're a smart chick, but there's a lot you've got to learn about the world. People don't always marry and pop out kids because it's sane and loving. Sometimes they just make a big goddamned mistake becaus
e the sex is that good, and mom's drug was kink before she got into the other shit.”

  No, I can't do this shit. She's too good, too innocent.

  I tell myself I've got no interest in corrupting a sweet, rich, smart girl, one who's from a world I don't want to understand – especially when she's my own damned stepsis. Then I think about that little whimper she makes when my cock's driving into her, slamming her into the mattress, and I want to ruin her forever.

  Honestly, I'm fucking out the things I should've dealt with years ago. And it's even worse that I've got to stop, but there's no choice. I have to end this back in California, before I really hurt her, and leave her just as screwed up as my mom.

  “I'm not as naïve as you think,” she says with a pout. “Is that what really has her all torn up? A bad breakup and pining after some biker boy? All the tabloids say it was her career.”

  “My old man's dead,” I growl. “Road accident, or so I heard from a guy in his club when I got older. He belonged to the Grizzlies MC. They were dirty, outlaw sonsofbitches in the old days. Whatever really happened to my pops, I'll never know. I don't care. It's not going to fix all the ways mom's fucked up her life.”

  “I have to keep dad from getting hurt.”

  “His problem. He's – what? – pushing fifty? That's old enough to know better. You're right about one thing, Delia. You have to let a man make his own mistakes. He'll find out she's been stringing him along as a sugar daddy soon enough.”

  A waiter comes by and interrupts the conversation. We get our entrees, some kind of rustic French chicken I can't even pronounce. Damn if it doesn't take the edge off as soon as I stuff the juicy meat into my mouth, tasting the way it blends with the wine.

  She's picking at her food again. I want to fly home and drag Evie out of that mansion, kicking and screaming. She's not ruining this. None of this shit between our parents is wrecking our last night together.

  “You'd better dig in, baby, and put that negative crap aside.” I lean forward and reach across the table, cupping her chin, stroking her cheek with my thumb, harder than any romantic gesture should be. “We're not letting what's going on with them get to us tonight. This is our night, Delia. The last one we're ever gonna have together. Don't make me fuck the bad thoughts out of your head on an empty stomach.”