The Billion Dollar Wedding: The Honeymoon Collection

by Cynthia Dane

  Ethan did not go easy on her. His hand was unyielding, covering the softer parts of her flesh with stern but affectionate spanks that were neither too hard nor too soft. The spark was there. The need built. Come two days from now, though, Jasmine wouldn’t see a single mark, nor would she see him as anything but the man she adored. This was the right kind of punishment. This was what she sought. A strong hand from a stronger man.

  She yelped, she shouted in joy, and she came from the weight of his touch right on her nether lips. The moment she began to coat his fingers with herself, Ethan thrust into her, sending Jasmine off a cliff of pleasure that had her clawing at the bed and singing his masterful praises.

  The world was an absolute blur as he laid her on her back, arms bound to the hooks hanging off the wall and dress coming down, pulling up, exposing all her sensitive areas until she was presented to him in all her half-naked glory, some of his seed still wet on her breasts.

  He was still hard. Had he ever gone soft at all? I don’t think so. I think he was still 100% hard even after he came last time. And Jasmine was wetter. This was the perfect marriage.

  “Keep your legs spread and your ass pointed up,” Ethan commanded, his body situated between her legs, close to her, cock coming right for her before she had the chance to think about what her ass of all things was doing!

  Jasmine wasn’t sure if she was still being punished, or if this was Ethan’s modus operandi of the moment, but she wouldn’t be allowed to come all she wanted anymore. Sometimes he was inside her, driving himself, his fiancée to the far reaches of that edge and then back again. His thrusts plummeted into her, reaching deep, deeper until she swore she was going to lose her fucking mind and never return to Earth again.

  Then he would pull out, looming over her, teasing her, but not giving her what she wanted.

  “Tell me that I’m the only man you want to be with for the rest of your life,” he demanded, finger circling her clit but refusing to touch it.

  Jasmine did. She told him that he was not only the one man she would be with until the day she died, but that he was the best, the ruler of her life that compared to no other man she had sampled in her years before meeting him. Those weren’t real men. They were boys who didn’t know how to truly please her or ask for nothing in return. Even when Ethan asked for things, it was with her in mind. He could be selfish sometimes, but it wasn’t his nature. If Jasmine had to choose one man for the rest of her existence… it would be Ethan.

  She made sure he knew that. Then begged.

  When she gave herself over to him, knowing full well that she would never be abandoned again that night, Jasmine saw something she never acknowledged before: nothingness. Sweet, elusive nothingness. It was only her. Ethan. The frenzy they created even though she was tied up and under direct orders to not move, unless it was in reaction to the way he moved inside her. The bites to her ear and neck were like fragments of heaven breaking apart before her closed eyes. The surge of his body careening into her core shone like the millions of stars breaking across the twilight. His grunts, his breaths as heavy as the amount of sin expressed between them, were harsh kisses from the cosmic winds crashing down on Jasmine.

  She stopped feeling. She let go. Here, in Ethan’s embrace as he roared into her ear and held himself inside her, spending himself, Jasmine encountered the one thing she had only heard about but never thought in a million years she would surrender herself to.

  Her consciousness was an elusive creature, slipping in and out of the light as every neuron in her body lit on fire and made her feel everything as if it were screamed through a megaphone. The fill of his cock inside her. The slip of his skin against hers. The heat of his breath, his essence as it came from her and returned to him. The softness of the clothes he still wore as he dominated her. This was the man she met, when her eyes were closed to what he offered. Now he was the same man, but her eyes were opened.

  “Are you with me?” he asked, his voice right in her ear but still so far away.

  Jasmine wanted to say yes, but her voice was gone. Her head rolled back and forth. A sense of satiation she had only dreamed of overcame her. He could keep making love to her. In fact, she encouraged it. Maybe he did. Maybe he entered her again, rocking gently into her as he helped her through the illusion of subspace.

  Everything was so easy now. Even when Ethan untied her, whispering his love and admiration for how well she could let go, Jasmine didn’t lower her arms. It felt like a crime to do anything but remain absolutely at his disposal.

  But Ethan would never dispose of her. So while he nuzzled against her, rubbing her nether lips and kissing her breasts, Jasmine stared at the ceiling, at the back of her eyelids, wondering if she ever had to let go of this crazy bliss.

  “I never felt so much like yours,” she muttered, using the last of her energy to speak.

  He kissed her, whether in one place or everywhere, it made no matter to Jasmine. “I could say the same to you.”

  Jasmine did her final bit of letting go. The next thing she knew, she was home, in bed, with the greatest man in the world lulling her back to sleep as he shortly joined her.

  Chapter 10

  “Isn’t it about time we invited Ethan’s parents over for dinner?” Luna asked the following night, shortly after the household finished up their Sunday meal of both vegetarian and carnivorous entrees. Ethan had already excused himself to take an evening stroll through the garden, and Saul was in the kitchen chatting Belinda’s ear off about life in Ecuador. Luckily, he was wearing pants. “We’ve been here for what, a month? There’s been no sign of them. I would love to meet your future in-laws and practice being non-judgmental.”

  Jasmine picked another grape off the bunch in front of her. A kitten weaved between her ankles before hopping up in Luna’s lap. At least she no longer allowed the kittens on the table, which took about as much training as it took to keep the kittens off the table in the first place.

  “His mother died when he was really young,” Jasmine said. “I don’t know about his father. Even I have never met him. He lives in South Carolina. Myrtle or Hilton Beach or something like that…”

  “Terrible! Not just his mother, but you never meeting his father… do they not get along?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Is he at least coming to the wedding?”

  “I… honestly don’t know.”

  This conversation was the impetus for Jasmine to get up and search for her fiancée in the garden. She found him sitting on a bench, watching the sunset as it sank beneath a grove of trees lining the woods. The warm sunlight played with the colors of the flowers in full bloom. Violets, roses, carnations, tulips… it was the tulips that always stole Jasmine’s breath when she came out here. Now, as she sat beside Ethan and took his hand, she tried to focus on her question instead of getting lost in the flurry of rainbow colors growing before her.

  “Is your father coming to the wedding?” When Ethan did not immediately respond, Jasmine thought fast. “Belinda needs to know, so she can reserve him a guest room. It’s only right he stay with us.”

  He turned his head, eyes studying Jasmine’s countenance. What is he thinking about? Did I drag up some bad memories? Jasmine never got the impression that Ethan’s father was abusive. Cold, stern, and distant? Definitely. But Ethan always made a point of saying that his father was a hard worker who made sure they “made it through the rough times.”

  “I don’t know. He won’t give me an answer.”

  “So you have talked to him about it?”

  “I’ve tried. We don’t talk often, so I can’t call him up out of the blue without him suspecting something.”

  “Suspecting what?”

  “He hates it when I give him money.” Ethan’s dry smile said he was joking, but his tone conveyed otherwise.

  “We’re getting married in a few weeks.”

  “If he decides to come at the last minute, I can make arrangements easily. We’ll be sure to
keep a room open for him.”

  “Ethan…” Jasmine didn’t like pushing him like this. It would have been one thing if she knew more about the relationship between father and son. Then she would at least feel like she wasn’t intruding… too much. “Will I have to meet him at the wedding? That doesn’t seem right.”

  His hand tightened in hers. “I can’t make the man do anything. Not that I try. I leave him to his own devices.”

  Jasmine tried to contain the words threatening to overflow… she tried, damnit. “Have you ever thought about taking me to see him? I don’t like putting you on the spot like this, but don’t you think it’s right that he should meet his son’s bride before they get married?”

  “He keeps to himself.” That’s all Ethan said.

  If Jasmine didn’t know her fiancé so well, she would worry that Mr. Cole was actually dead somewhere. No, that was Mrs. Cole. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Just thought I would bring it up since it’s been on my mind.”

  Ethan snorted. “How did you know?”

  “How did I know what?”

  “That I’m going to Atlanta in a couple of days.”

  “I didn’t.” Oh, Jasmine knew he was going on some short trip somewhere that week, but couldn’t remember. Just that she wasn’t invited, due to it being such a short trip not too far away. “Your dad isn’t in Atlanta, though.”

  “No, but it isn’t too far from South Carolina. If I give the old grump some warning, we could stop in for a night. He’ll gripe about it, but he shouldn’t turn us away. At the very least, I could talk to him in person about the wedding, and he can see you exist. That’s all I can do.”

  Jasmine barely had time to respond before she was already getting ready for this trip.

  ***

  South Carolina was a state Jasmine didn’t think much about. Literally all she knew about it was the existence of Myrtle Beach and something about golfing. Since that was the only city she knew of, she foolishly assumed that’s where Mr. Adam Cole lived. Wrong! The private plane they took from Atlanta after Ethan’s noon meeting dropped them off in a little place called Hilton Head Island.

  This looks like the kind of place those people would love to come visit for a week and then never think about again. “Those people” of course referring to the rich who traveled in Jasmine’s new social circles.

  The beaches they flew over looked more appealing than Florida’s, and Jasmine didn’t think it could get better than that on the east coast. The adorable lighthouses had northeastern charm without the stuffiness. Indeed, after they landed, they still received a hearty helping of southern hospitality – complete with accents.

  As familiar as this sort of life was to Jasmine now, she couldn’t help but feel that this environment went against everything she knew about Ethan’s father. Adam Cole, by all accounts, was a miser who secluded himself because he “wanted to live the rest of his life in quiet.” She knew he was older, but when she found out that Ethan had put his father up in a 65+ condo community for those with very good means, she balked. His father was how old, exactly?

  “Sixty-nine,” Ethan said. “He moved in right at sixty-five.” They rode in the back of a car rental, swinging by busy golf courses and well-to-do shopping areas. The longer they drove, however, the farther they got from all of this, until they were in a lovely countryside that looked more like the Hills back home than anything Jasmine had imagined. “Before that, I couldn’t get him to budge from the crappy place he rented in North Carolina. He moved there after I first went to Harvard and didn’t believe me when I started making good money. I offered to buy him a place multiple times, but he wouldn’t let me. Eventually his health started to decline, and when I offered to buy him a condo anywhere he wanted, he said he always fancied himself living in a place like Hilton Head Island. So, here we are.”

  The community was spread out, giving residents ample privacy while providing many local services – such as beauty salons, post offices, cafés, grocers, and pharmacies – and access to things to do. The beach was a fifteen-minute walk or three-minute shuttle ride away, and popular low-impact hiking and walking trails were advertised on many signs. Jasmine picked up a brochure from the check-in booth to see the multitude of groups available to join. Workshops, classes, book clubs and movie watchers… if she ever thought about taking up knitting, there were apparently some award-winning knitters on this island.

  Ethan’s father lived farther back than anyone else. It was hard to believe they were still in the community out there, what with the dense woods and one-lane road creating an air of isolation. Now this sounded more like Ethan’s father, by all accounts. When they reached a small one-bedroom bungalow tucked between a stream and smaller yard, Jasmine had to question how such a place was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. According to Ethan, however, that’s how much he paid to procure this piece of faraway life for his father.

  Adam Cole did not answer the door. Instead, a middle-aged woman wearing a crisp blue uniform opened it while the car rental pulled away, not due to return until the next morning.

  “You must be Ethan.” The woman looked at his companion. “And Jasmine. Either that or you two are the smartest looking lost tourists.”

  “I’m Ethan.” He extended his hand and shook the woman’s. “Are you Sybil?”

  “Sure am, hon. The ol’ codger is out back on the patio. I was finishing up my rounds before heading out.” She winked at them both. “Brought some pot roast from the community restaurant. It’s the best around, so you should have yourselves a fine supper.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  The bungalow was new, but dark, with most of the lights off and many windows closed and shuttered. However, enough were opened to keep the place from getting musty. Everything was neatly put away, including afghans on the living room couch and dishes in a cabinet. It almost looked like a staged, model home, with catalog furniture and decorative pieces that didn’t adhere to any one person’s tastes. If Adam Cole did have preferences, then they were not showcased in his small but cozy abode.

  After the woman in the uniform took her leave, Ethan explained, “That’s the woman who checks in most days to make sure he’s still alive and not burning the place down.”

  “Oh, I thought she was something like a cleaning woman…”

  “She might do a little cleaning, but this place screams my father.” Ethan chuckled. “All my chores growing up were centered around clean this, clean that, make sure the laundry is brought in and neatly folded before going to bed. He would inspect my drawers to make sure everything was in its rightful place. Bonus points if I color coded my underwear and shirts.”

  “Gracious! Was he in the military?”

  “He came from a military family.” Ethan put their bags down by the couch. Is this where we’re sleeping? Imagining Ethan sleeping on a foldout couch… what was the world coming to? “I never met him, but my grandfather was a pretty strict Army guy. My dad joined up to go to Vietnam but had to be discharged because of a football injury from high school. The ethic lived on through me, though.”

  “That explains so much.” Jasmine’s mouth was as wide as her eyes.

  “Why’s that?”

  “You ever see your own work ethic? Sheesh.” Only the military could breed that kind of adherence. Instead, my parents were the ones protesting wars.

  “I suppose. Come on. Let’s go let him know we’re not a couple of burglars before he pulls a rifle and hunting knife out from somewhere.”

  For as well as Jasmine knew her fiancé, she could not tell if that was his dry humor speaking… or an actual warning.

  They found him out back, as Sybil promised.

  Adam Cole was a wiry man. Perhaps the same height as his son, but it was possible he used to be taller. He wore faded jeans, one leg crossed over the other as he gazed upon the hummingbirds dancing around a cheap dollar store feeder. His button down powder blue shirt was crisp, not a button out of place or threaded in the w
rong hole. But it was his face, wrinkled, a little gaunt, and so serious that he could make a pack of rowdy children calm down in silent reverence that defined him. That face gave off such a somber air that Jasmine imagined Ethan’s childhood to be, “Sit down, shut up, and make sure you brush your teeth before going to bed.” The kind of man who needed a wife who was his polar opposite to balance things out in a household.

  “Dad,” Ethan said, standing off to the side. Adam slightly turned his head, but was not wont to get up and slap his son on the back. “Good to see you well enough.”

  They didn’t hug or shake hands. Adam rubbed his knuckles along his nose before putting his arm back down and contemplating the freshly mowed yard. “Don’t you know you’re in a retirement community, son?” a gravelly voice asked. “It’s over seventy degrees. Why are you in that fancy outfit?”

  The ironic thing was that Ethan wasn’t in any fancy outfit – by his standards! His slacks were as casual as he dared outside of the occasional jeans. He didn’t even wear a tie over his beige button down. He’s practically naked. Ethan had changed out of his business suit on the plane, and now Jasmine knew why.

  “You always told me to dress for success.”

  “I also told you to keep your hands out of your damn pockets.”

  Ethan pulled his hands out of his front pockets and flexed his fingers. He’s over thirty, rarely talks to his father, and is quick to obey whatever he barks at him. Some things never changed. It was kinda cute.

  “Anyway, this is Jasmine, my fiancée. I may have mentioned her a time or two.”

  That was her cue to step before Adam, nerves striking her heart as she made eye contact with this surly father of the man she loved. His expression did not change as he looked her up and down and turned away.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Jasmine couldn’t tell if that was sarcastic or not.

  “Nice to meet you too.” Everything Jasmine had rehearsed until now fell apart. Was this how Ethan felt talking to his father growing up? What do you say to a man like this? Is there any way to please him… to impress him? Jasmine always got the feeling that Ethan’s father was unimpressed by the billions. He didn’t even want to accept a penny. Out of pride? Probably.