The Billion Dollar Wedding: The Honeymoon Collection

by Cynthia Dane

  Jasmine snuggled closer to his backward embrace. “We’re talking dirty, are we?”

  “You don’t want me to say cock and cum? I’d be disappointed.”

  “Don’t half-ass it.” Jasmine sighed when Ethan pulled out, rubbing her slit and spreading her wealth around. “Now fuck me.”

  “Ah ha, I don’t think so. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” Ethan moved away from her. He was still woefully clothed in trousers and shirt, and while he was sexy as hell in that look, Jasmine was starting to crave the feeling of his warm skin against hers.

  “I don’t want to tell you what to do,” Jasmine whined. “I just want…”

  “I know what you want.” Why was he off the bed? It better be to unzip his trousers and make it easier to unbutton his shirt. He could untie me and let me do that for him. Jasmine loved undressing him. She didn’t like to think in terms of serving, but that was the closest she came to embracing the thought. “You want my cock. Say it.”

  A nightstand drawer opened behind Jasmine. “I do. I want your cock, Ethan.”

  “And?”

  She was too aroused to speak coherently. What the hell did he want from her? “I want it inside me. Fuck me, Ethan.”

  “Turn around first.”

  Jasmine rolled over. In his hand, Ethan held a small, pretty bottle of what looked like lube. I don’t need that… we almost never use lube. “What is that?”

  “Something special. Look.”

  It was impossible to believe her eyes. Is that… Jasmine had only heard of it in passing. Whispers between well-to-do women who would usually never be caught talking about sex, of all dirty things. Yet here it was in front of Jasmine. One of the most expensive lubes in the world, renowned for its ability to, ah, make a woman feel really, really good.

  The stuff Jasmine saw on TV heralding the second coming of coming couldn’t hold a flogger to this stuff.

  “Holy shit,” she muttered. “Wait, you’re gonna use that on me, aren’t you?’

  “‘Provides intense sensations meant to stimulate a woman’s most erogenous zones. Safe to use inside the body as well as out, however, it’s not recommended to use more than four ounces at a time.’” Ethan read that, and yet Jasmine barely listened. “They say kings used to use this stuff. They love slathering this on before getting it on. Screams for days, I’ve heard.”

  “Heard from whom?”

  “Someone who used to serve beneath European royalty. There’s some princess – can’t remember the name – who reportedly uses this about once a month and screams herself hoarse. From pleasure, of course.”

  “I’m not sure about this…”

  “We can use a little. I’m not going to make you do it, though.”

  ‘Oh, well that’s good!”

  “Relax.” Ethan sat back down on the bed, pushing his fiancé over and pulling her legs open. “It’s supposed to feel good.”

  Jasmine wasn’t sure about any of this, but she wasn’t going to say no. Not because she was afraid to, but because Ethan looked eager to try it. He normally didn’t let his eagerness show in the bedroom. If anything, he was usually Mr. Reserved.

  “All right. Slather it on me, Mr. Cole. My pussy awaits.”

  His smirk went straight to her heart. “I was hoping you would say that.”

  A dab of lube touched his fingertip. Instead of going straight between her legs, however, Ethan yanked up her T-shirt and touched her nipple. She jerked back, gasping, a hot sensation immediately hitting her before everything went numb around that area. “What the…”

  “I can feel it a little bit on my finger. I’m guessing it’s a lot more intense on other areas…”

  “What gave you that idea?”

  “Relax.” Ethan eased her legs back open after she clamped them shut. “This is kinda fun, though. Seeing how you react.”

  “Oh, I bet you’re loving this in your pants.” Jasmine peeked at the erection straining against his trousers. Ethan, however, appeared oblivious. “Can’t wait to heat me up and then shoot your missile at me.”

  “Your way with words continues to impress me, my sweet.”

  “Do it already. You’re killing me here.”

  “My pleasure.” Ethan reached between her thighs. “And yours, soon enough.”

  Jasmine closed her eyes, Oh, fuck. A burning sensation that was more titillating than worrying flooded her. All right, more like flooded her nether regions, but that was neither here nor there. Ethan didn’t use much at all, but he was thorough, fingers parting her slit, rubbing her clit, sinking between her wet folds, and… making her numb. She couldn’t feel a damn thing going on down there. Not even his touch.

  This stuff sucked.

  “Are you kidding?” she muttered. Ethan didn’t hear her. He was too busy admiring her body, as men are wont to do. “I can’t feel my own fucking pussy?”

  Five seconds later, it hit her.

  Like a semi-truck.

  “Oh my God!” she gasped. “Ethan!”

  He stepped back. “What?”

  How could she describe it? It wasn’t just warmth. It was a million sparks going off, hitting her gut, her heart, her head. Jasmine had felt arousal before, obviously. She had felt the crazed need for a man – mostly Ethan – to plow, no, pound her until she didn’t know what her name was anymore. This? This was that. Only times, like, infinity!

  The tingles spread through her body. Most tingles did so slowly, gently caressing her skin and awakening her to the idea of passionate lovemaking. These tingles didn’t give a solid fuck and burst through her like horses from the gate. While everything was centered in her thighs, her whole body felt it. Craved it. The heat completely claimed her, turning her into a frenzied animal that only wanted one damn fucking holy shit right now thing.

  “Do it!” she shouted at Ethan, her foot nearly smacking him in the leg. He jumped back, dropping the bottle. “You gonna fuck me or not?”

  She couldn’t help her language, her volume. Ethan wanted her to be loud? Oh, she would be loud. She would be demanding and insistent, too. As far as she was concerned right now, she had a right to be satisfied, to be taken to places she had only ever heard of. Lovemaking? What lovemaking? Jasmine was going to get her sex fix, and she was going to get it now.

  Ethan was lost in shock at first, but he quickly recuperated, shoving her back down onto the bed and crawling between her legs. That’s right. You be a man. You make me scream. Jasmine must have had the most menacing face he had ever seen on her, for Ethan said, “I’m glad your hands are tied up right now. Wow.”

  He took his sweet time unzipping, unbuttoning, and torturing the woman he subjected to this fate. Jasmine was on the verge of tears, her need for sexual satisfaction so intense that she groaned, desperately trying to reach her slit with her bound hands. Ethan, however, kept pushing them away.

  “Don’t think so. That’s mine to take.”

  “Then hurry up! You have no idea what this shit is doing to me!”

  “No, I don’t, but I think I like it.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “I think you mean…” He dared to untie her hands, clutching her wrists and shoving them against the headboard. Before Jasmine could shout in defeat, her wrists were tied there, and Ethan loomed over her, hands firmly on either side of her head. “Fuck you, right?”

  “Oh my Goooodddd.” Her wail shook her feet, toes digging into the bedspread for relief. “Fuck me! Please!”

  “Wow,” Ethan said again, looking down. “You are wet.”

  “No shit!”

  “No, I mean, more than usual.”

  “Fuck me!”

  When he finally did, Jasmine thought she had died – or at least left her poor, hapless body to the whim of destiny.

  Few people had ever seen her act like this. In fact, she was pretty sure that Ethan was the only one who could possibly have, seeing as how her ex-boyfriends and hookups could barely get it up sometimes, let alone cover her in the most expensive, most
potent magic in the world.

  As wonderful as this was, Jasmine was pretty sure she didn’t want this to be a common occurrence. Her fiancé’s cock was supposed to be a welcomed addition to her body, not absolutely necessary for her existence to continue.

  His curses and groans matched hers, probably because she was going fuck-nuts around his waist – legs shaking, body yearning, and face contorting in what probably looked like pain but was anything but. Yet if Ethan didn’t take care of her fast? It probably would turn into pain.

  He could barely keep up with her thrusts, but he managed, and he still managed to make it seem like this was all part of his master plan to please his fiancée tonight. No matter how much he spoke to her, however, or how much he touched and stroked other parts of her body… Jasmine could barely acknowledge it. She was too lost to a world of personal pleasure that was unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

  She came multiple times, but they weren’t the satisfying kinds of climaxes a woman looks forward to. The kind that scratch the sexual itch and bring endorphins to places untamed. No, these were almost medically necessary. And they followed each other, one after the other, exhausting her even though she still didn’t feel satisfied. It wasn’t until Ethan clung to her hips, holding himself inside her as he came with her, that she finally felt any semblance of relief.

  “Oh my God,” she muttered, as her hands came down from the headboard and she nearly passed out. “If we ever use that shit again, half the dosage. I think I almost died.”

  Sweaty, breathless, and probably sucked of every drop inside of him, Ethan collapsed beside her without ceremony. “I think I almost died too.”

  “No. You don’t understand.”

  “I started feeling it too. That stuff is intense.”

  “You need to put it away. Lock it up. Put a timer on it so it can only be opened once or twice a year. I’m serious.”

  “Well, at least we can say we tried it…”

  He probably said more, but Jasmine was out, like the rest of her poor body.

  Chapter 5

  Although the weatherman tried to argue otherwise, the sun was shining on the day of Ethan and Jasmine’s engagement party. Out in the countryside, where the sophisticated playground of the wealthy dwelled, a hundred guests gathered to drink champagne, play croquette, and congratulate Mr. Cole on his upcoming nuptials. Oh, and they congratulated Jasmine as well. One had to suppose that was in due course.

  I don’t know any of these people. Even though she thought that countless times, Jasmine was always amazed at how many faces she continued to never recognize. Perhaps she saw them many times, but the women had so much work done, and the men wore so many different hats and haircuts that it was impossible to remember them from one occasion to the next. The worst part? Jasmine wasn’t even face blind.

  Nevertheless, she graciously thanked them all for attending. Jasmine had never been to an engagement party of this scale before – she had to miss Monica and Henry’s due to illness – and thus had no idea that she and her fiancée had to spend the first forty-five minutes standing at the doors thanking every guest who came by and paid his or her respects. Since it was April, most of the men wore dark colors and their female companions a variety of colors. There were, however, the occasional whites here and there. Henry wore his customary off-white suit while Monica teetered beneath white lace. When people weren’t kissing Ethan’s ass, they were glowing over Monica, who was entering her sixth month of pregnancy but had the stomach of a woman about to haul a baby around. More than one person commented that the baby must definitely be a Warren, since almost every member of that family was at least six feet tall.

  “I must sit down,” Monica told her friends. “Looking at you stand here for so long is making me weary. Please tell me there’s an open bar.”

  Ethan narrowed his eyes at her. “There is. Adrienne arranged it.”

  “I’m assuming they can make virgin drinks.” Monica flicked his arm. “No jokes. I’m irritable today.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  The hostess of the party flitted around in a black dress and diamonds sparkling in her bun. Jasmine knew whenever Adrienne was in the vicinity, since her heels echoed more than anyone else’s and her voice pealed like the social butterfly she was. Trailing behind her wherever she went was a young man with sandy hair like Henry Warren’s, but a much darker style of suit. Also, the most babyish face any man over twenty-five there had.

  “That’s her new personal assistant,” Ethan muttered in Jasmine’s ear when they had a lull in guests. “I don’t know if she hired him because she was sleeping with him, or if it happened the other way around.”

  Jasmine did a double-take. Is that her type? The man looked barely out of college. He also had the smarmy kind of self-satisfied smile that meant he was also the kind of man Jasmine would have avoided in college. “Are you sure they’re…”

  “Oh, yes. She told me herself.”

  “I see.” Jasmine didn’t detect jealousy on Ethan’s behalf. Just a huge pile of annoyance.

  “Would be nice if she got some work done instead.”

  “Ah.” Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Says the man who only hired assistants he wanted to sleep with.”

  “That’s different. I never let it get in the way of my work.”

  “No, of course not. That would have been unprofessional.”

  “You were unprofessional more than once, as I recall.”

  Jasmine’s retort was cut short when two familiar faces waltzed up to them, all smiles, even though one nudged the other the moment they made eye contact.

  “Congratulations on your engagement!” said the girl who sounded like a hyena. Jasmine did her best to not falter in front of these bullies. “Always a pleasure, Mr. Cole… Miss Jasmine.”

  “Pleasure is mine,” Ethan responded. He shook hands with both girls before they retreated into the country club and probably hit the open bar alongside Monica and her virgin drinks fit for a pregnant woman.

  Jasmine patted him until he lowered his ear to her. “Those were the ones I was telling you about. From the restaurant the other day.”

  “Oh?” Ethan looked over his shoulder. “I know their fathers. One of them does the occasional dealing with me. What should I do about it?”

  “Don’t do anything…”

  “That’s not fun.”

  “I didn’t realize that sort of thing was supposed to be fun.”

  They didn’t get to go inside until a few minutes later. Any late guests would have to concede to no formal greetings. Serves them right. Besides, wasn’t Jasmine supposed to enjoy her engagement party at some point? She was only supposed to have one in her life.

  Ethan led her inside, but they didn’t stay for long. The country club staff had set up most of the party outside, overlooking the expansive golf course and the man-made lake fit for boat rides. Jasmine and Ethan had the table of honor by the edge of the balcony, where a friendly breeze kept Jasmine searching for Ethan’s arms because she forgot to bring a sweater with her.

  “You are absolutely stunning in that dress,” Ethan said, as a waiter poured them champagne and left them with a plate of hors d’oeuvres. “Is it new?’

  Jasmine straightened herself up in her chair, showing off her cleavage in the royal purple cocktail dress she wore. “No. I dug it out of my closet since I love it so much. My hair is different, though.” She bounced a curl in her hand. Raul had taken her waves to a new extreme, and Jasmine had pulled her hair back behind her ears. “You like it?”

  “I love it.” His hand covered her knee beneath the table cloth. “You should wear dresses that show off your figure more. Or don’t. Sometimes I need to be able to focus on other things besides you. Although…” Ethan’s forehead came closer to hers. “I don’t have to focus on anything but you today.”

  “That sort of thing doesn’t happen enough,” Jasmine admitted. “I’m glad things are finally getting easier at work for you.”


  “I don’t know if I would say easier…” Ethan held his champagne glass up for a toast, “but things are slowing down on my end, now that Adrienne is taking on more responsibilities. For one thing, I get to avoid a lot of boring meetings that she is absolutely divine at leading.”

  “Avoiding meetings means more time at home with me. Or at least taking me out for a good time.”

  Ethan’s finger dug into her thigh. Whoa, there. Not only were they in public, but they were the center of attention while people dined and drank around them. As soon as the food course was over, there would be croquet on the nearby lawn. I suck at croquet, but it might be fun. Until then, Jasmine was content to sit at her table with Ethan, listening to him flirt with her. “Where would you like to go?” he asked her.

  Jasmine pretended to think about it, complete with finger on chin and eyes pointing toward the blue sky. “Hmm! Well, maybe a certain someone with means could help his future wife be more cultured. We never go to the opera. Also, I could be more uncultured and go to the movies with you more often.”

  “Places that are dark and quiet? You speak my language.”

  “Uh huh. Remember, that goes both ways.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t forgotten.” Ethan rubbed her skin as if she were cold down there. “Your radiance is ridiculous right now.”

  “You flirt.”

  “Ahem.”

  They both looked up with a start. Amber stood on the other side of their small table, looking more sheepish than a lamb as she patted her hair and then folded her hands together. “Yes?” Ethan asked, the annoyance in his voice growing.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Cole, but I was wondering if you needed anything before I went off on my own.”

  Only Jasmine could detect the snort shooting out of Ethan. “No, Miss Mayview. You have the day off. Enjoy yourself.”

  She paid the last of her respects before jetting off, disappearing back into the main building as Ethan turned his attentions back to Jasmine and her cheek – with his lips, of course.

  “You have a nice and pretty assistant, Mr. Cole.”