"It's not polite to stare," she teases even though she can't seem to look away, either.
“You look really good, Mrs. Kingston,” I growl into her ear. "Fucking beautiful."
Her body shivers against mine, and I revel in the vibration. Her fingers tangle in the too-long hair at the base of my neck.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Kingston.” She isn’t able to hide the tremor in her voice, and I swear, all it does is make me harder.
I’m trying to be smart about this. But the clear-headed businessman persona is no match for this lust that's clouding my head. My hands are fisting the material of her dress on her lower back, struggling with the growing urge to roam her perfect body.
It’s a fight I’m losing. Quickly and painfully.
I know I can’t keep my hands off of her one minute longer.
“Come with me,” I demand, my eyes fixed on hers, making my intent clear. My plans are far from pure, but Lexi’s hungry gaze tells me she doesn’t want pure.
Her answer is just a quick nod, and that’s enough for me.
I slip my fingers through hers and discreetly slip her down the fire escape.
26
Lexi
I fumble with my keys at the backdoor of the bridal boutique. My heart thrashes against my ribcage, a rabid animal hurling itself at a chainlink fence.
Am I really going to have a quickie with my fake husband at our wedding reception? With our guests upstairs waiting for us to cut the cake?
Even in my blindingly horny state, it seems like a really, really bad idea.
But Cannon's hot, hard frame pulses with lust and impatience behind me. His hand covers mine, deftly turning the key in the lock. He slides his big body around me and nudges the door open with his broad shoulder.
When I hesitate to enter, his voice rumbles and his lips curl with a dangerous smirk. "Get your sexy ass in here before I do something indecent to you against the side of that compost bin in the alley." He holds the door open with his foot.
I roll my eyes even as my pulse rehearses an erratic tap dance at the base of my throat. "Well, you're just a mack daddy, aren't you? Is this the state of chivalry in the twenty-first century?"
Grunting out a laugh, he fists the satin skirt of my gown and yanks me through the doorway. "My cock is gonna have the time of his life inside that sassy mouth of yours."
I run my hands down the muscled planes of his wide chest. "Keep talking like that and your cock is gonna need reconstructive surgery by the time I'm done with it."
My groom chuckles again. "I'm not sure if that's sexy-talk or if it's an actual threat of violence but either way, I'm diggin' it, honey." He winks.
I yelp when he shoves me against the nearest wall. His fingers plunge into my hair, his open lips collide with mine. He kisses me deep, hard. My breasts feel soft, tingly, hot. A greedy tremor stutters through my pussy.
He tastes like a man. A little bit of mint, a little bit of whiskey and a whole lot of something primal that makes me hungry to taste the rest of him.
My arms loop around the back of his neck, refusing to let him move. He palms my ass before his big paws slide beneath my skirt. The heel of his hand grinds into my clit and my body clenches all over.
Still, my self-preservation whispers in my ear, He's a rich, selfish bastard who's using you as his chess piece in his game.
Fuck!
I pull back and stare at his gorgeous, stoic face. Why can't I just walk away? "This is so stupid," I whisper more to myself than to him.
He watches me, his features suddenly perfectly sober. "I don't understand it either, Stormy." His mouth comes close to my ear, brushing my cheek. "It's an animal attraction. It doesn't have to make sense."
I pull in a breath and I'm done trying to rationalize this. I'm done trying to convince myself that this is a bad idea. I want it too much. It's been too long since I've had a man's hands on my body. And the fact of the matter is, men like Cannon Kingston—Dominant. Sexy. Irresistible—they don't come around very often. There's no point in trying to fight this desire.
My fingers curl into the waistband of his pants and I drag him down the dark hallway. We end up in the stockroom.
Amusement twinkles in his eyes as I take complete control. I'm shoving him against a wall of shelves and scaling his body like a rock climber in heat.
He tugs on my hair and his delicious mouth is on mine again. Our tongues play together. Tasting. Exploring. Devouring. Then, he's kissing my neck, soft lips and rough stubble sweeping across the sensitive flesh.
And goosebumps.
Goosebumps everywhere.
I experience a level of arousal I thought only existed in romance novels. And maybe at Jason Momoa fan meet-and-greets. I murmur pure gibberish out loud.
I feel Cannon smile against my throat. His hand slips out of my hair, crawling down my chest to cup my breast, to palm it roughly. I moan.
I arch my spine, serving up my tiny boobs like a bite-sized offering. He pries down the neckline of my bodice and his lips cover one nipple, sucking it into the warmth of his mouth.
"Feels so good," I whisper, my hands navigating the vast plains of his shoulders.
His other hand moves down my back, fingertips playing connect the dots along my spine. He chuffs. "Stormy, I'm about to upgrade your definition of 'feels so good'. Permanently."
He lets me unfasten the buttons of his shirt. He lets me draw my palms over his tight deltoids. He lets me taste the bronzed skin of his collarbone.
But when I reach for his waistband and start lowering myself to my knees, he grabs me by the waist and backs me up against my work table. "Fuck chivalry. I'm eating first, baby."
And then he's on his knees.
Spreading my legs wide.
Licking and sucking his way up the inside of my thigh.
Removing my garter with his teeth.
He draws his tongue along the lacy edge of my white underwear and stares up at me with a half-smile that could single handedly melt what's left of the Arctic. "Your panties are in the way," he announces.
The soft flutter of his warm breath against my thigh makes me tighten my grip on the edge of the counter. My voice is thick and raspy and desperate. "So, take them off."
A second later, my panties are on the floor. Cannon props my ass on the edge of the counter and hooks my leg over his shoulder like a man about to feast. He tilts my pelvis to spread my pussy wider. He tongues my clit, slow and hard. Swirling, sliding. Lingering on the bud for long moments before plunging deep into my channel.
I lie back and clench my knees against his head as if holding on for dear life. When he drives a finger inside me and sucks my clit into his mouth, I expel a long, loud moan that bounces off the walls.
Just as my legs start to tremble and my skin starts to prickle and my vision starts to melt at the corners, Cannon rises to his feet. He scrapes my overstimulated body off the table and spins me around so that I'm facedown on the now-warm fibreboard.
"I want you just like this, Alexia." The no-nonsense edge in his voice has my body in full compliance. "Bend over for me just like this."
I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper ripping open. Before I can throw a glance over my shoulder, he's breaching me with his long, fat cock. "Shit—why the fuck are you so big?" I groan.
"Too much for you, Stormy?" he taunts through gritted teeth as he surges forward into the tight grip of my pussy. "You can't handle it?"
I jerk my hips back again and again, frantically swallowing that dick like it's my life's purpose.
"I can take it," I groan. "I can take it."
I may require a lifetime of osteopathy after tonight but for now, I press my cheek to the counter and take him to the hilt. Each thrust is a powerful expression of his masculinity. The man fucks like a warrior, like a conqueror, like a man on a mission to mark unclaimed territory. And turned on as I am, submission is an easy choice.
The dull throb of the music from our wedding reception
upstairs is our only reminder that a world exists outside of these walls. In this moment, all I'm aware of is him.
The orgasm starts as a tingle on the soles of my feet. By the time I take a breath, it's burning its way up my thighs. It explodes with seismic force at my core.
My belly is full of fire. My mind is consumed by flames. My body seizes in surrender and I chant Cannon's name as we both plunge over the edge.
His arms come around me. I melt in his possessive hold as we recover from the orgasm. My body is blissfully sedated but now, my brain is asking questions.
Do I know what the hell I'm doing? How am I supposed to protect my heart? How am I going to survive falling for my fake husband?
The clear-eyed look on Cannon's face tells me I'm stuck in limbo all by myself. He's already buttoned his fly and tucked his rumpled shirt back into his waistband.
From over by the door, he stretches a hand out to me. "Come on, Mrs. Kingston. We don't want to keep our guests waiting for us to cut the cake."
27
Lexi
I'm curled up on the plush, oversized sofa in Cannon's massive living room, still recovering from the wedding reception. In addition to my head-splitting hangover, every single part of my body hurts. After an entire day of pretending to have my shit together in those four-inch heels yesterday plus endless hours of tearing up the dance floor with my friends and the newly-wed, all-night-long sex-a-thon that followed, I can barely move a limb.
How come no one ever told me that getting fake-married is a heck of a workout?
So today, I'm keeping a low profile, sipping on coffee while I read the tattered self-help book I found on Cannon's coffee table. The book is sort of gloomy though I have to admit that it's super interesting. Still, every few minutes, I find my brain wandering off with thoughts of my new hubby. I don't know what's coming over me.
He locked himself in his ridiculously-huge home office much of the afternoon, doing Cannon-like things. Though I'm tempted to go off in search of him, I've decided to stay put. Last night I got lost on my way from his bedroom to the kitchen. I had to text him to come rescue me and it took an agonizing three minutes and forty-six seconds for help to arrive.
I grin shamelessly thinking about the things I did to him in that long stretch of hallway as a 'thank you' for saving me.
He strides into the living room, and it suddenly feels like we’ve been apart for days, instead of just a few hours. During our time apart, I swear this man has only grown more delicious. How is it possible that I want him naked again?
And he’s wearing those sexy reading glasses.
Oh my gosh—delicious!
I’ve had more sex in the past twenty-four hours than I’ve had in a year. Yet, every time my fake groom stalks into the room, I crave him all over again. The way that man moves, his body should be illegal.
There’s too much distance between our skin right now. My body actually mourns. This is going to be a problem. A big, big problem. I'm scared that, when this is all over, my body won't know how to handle life without Cannon Kingston's attention.
I set my coffee cup on the table beside the couch. “Hi,” I say with a shy grin and I barely even recognize myself with the way I'm behaving. There’s this tension in the air that practically sizzles.
I’m not going to lie to myself. It’s hot but overwhelming. I’m downright terrified of it. Sex was not part of our agreement, and I’m not sure how to handle all this.
“Hey,” he answers finally. He eyes my coffee cup, a tiny frown creasing the space between his brows. Silently, I wonder if I did something wrong.
I feel a bucket of ice drop into my stomach. "D-did you sign the paperwork to take over the company?" In other words, are you already here to kick me out? Is that what he's been working on all afternoon in his office? I'm scared to find out the answer.
I’m trying desperately to keep my grip on reality. This marriage is only temporary. That’s why I haven’t packed up my entire life and hired a moving truck. I haven’t claimed closet space in Cannon’s bedroom.
For now, I’m living out of a suitcase parked in a corner of his walk-in closet. Logically, I know I can’t let myself get comfortable in this life. Keeping my heart in check is proving to be a bit of a challenge, though.
“The lawyers are still going over the paperwork, but everything should be done in a few weeks.” His words are cool and aloof but a sense of relief washes over me because it means I get to hold onto this fairytale. At least for a while longer.
He runs his thumb along his bottom lip as he studies me. He hesitates. “Have you eaten?”
"I haven't," I respond after a pause. I sort of got caught up in the book and lost track of time, honestly.
I see his gaze narrowing on the book in my hands. He smiles. “Lessons the Successful Man Must Never Forget. That’s my favorite read.”
“I know.”
He narrows his eyes playfully and any traces of grumpy Cannon vanish. "You know?"
“You told me about this book during our date before we met your family,” I remind him.
"I'm just surprised you remembered..." He watches me thoughtfully.
“Don't look so impressed," I warn him. "To be honest, I’m finding this book to be a bit morbid. If this is your life’s manifesto, it’s no wonder you’re so cynical.”
“Hey, now,” Cannon reprimands, closing the distance to steal the book from me. He scoops my legs off of the couch. He drapes them across his thighs when he sits next to me.
My skin burns against his. This man has no idea what he does to me.
He opens the tattered book and flips through the yellowing pages. I lose track of time again as Cannon reads several pages out loud. I do my best to focus on the contents of the book but instead I get lost in the vibrations of his gravel-velour voice.
When he finishes, he shuts the book and stares at me with so much hope. He looks boyish, eager for my approval. I laugh a little. “As I said, morbid as hell!” Then I scoot a little closer. "But there are some real gems of wisdom in there."
Cannon leans in suddenly and kisses me hard with those talented lips. When he pulls back, I need to know whatever is going through his mind. I whisper, heart thudding. "You're staring again, King."
He grins that way and a tingle slings up my thighs. Sexy little fucker he is. "I like when you wear your hair like that." His fingers dive into my dark, knotted roots.
I belt out an unrestricted laugh. "Um, this hair is not a fashion statement. It's a sad display of neglect." I haven't even brushed it today and it's still heavy with the styling product Miss Lucille piled into it yesterday.
"Well, it's sexy as fuck."
Heat flares in my cheeks when this man admits that he's attracted to me. "You might need to have your vision checked," I say in a self-conscious voice that doesn't even sound like me. I tap the frame of his glasses with a fingertip.
He cocks his head in annoyance. "Stop deflecting my compliments, Alexia. And stop making excuses for who you are. Just be yourself." He hesitates for half a second. "Because I like your..." His hand gestures vaguely in my direction. "...self."
The climate in the room shifts. On the heels of his tender confession, he wears this raw, exposed look on his face. Those addictive lips of his cover mine before I've even decided how to feel. The kiss is soft and mind-melting.
He pulls back with a barely there smile. "You wanna grab dinner and catch a movie or something?” I’ve never known Cannon to sound so unsure. But then again, we’re both well aware that dinner and movie dates were definitely not part of our arrangement.
“Okay.” I chew on my bottom lip to fight back a grin, but it still finds its way through.
He eases off the couch. “Okay then. I'll go call the movie theatre to reserve some tickets. Does 6:30 sound good for dinner?”
I’m still gnawing on my lip. “Sounds great.”
Butterflies swirl in my gut as he walks away.
It's just dinner and a movie. I shouldn't
be all knotted up like this.
Boy, I sure am in trouble.
28
Lexi
I wiggle, getting cozy in my theater seat as movie trailers roll. Cannon is out in the lobby somewhere, finishing a business call with his lawyer and I'm the only person in the room.
All throughout dinner, I badgered him to tell me what movie we're watching but he just stuffed his face with burgers and fries while stubbornly refusing to answer.
The man is infuriating.
Just as I’m starting to think my date has bailed on me, he stalks into the theater, hands full. He carries in a huge bucket of popcorn, two drinks and enough candy to send a preschool class over the edge. My stomach is still loaded from our fast food dinner so I really doubt I'll be participating in the pig-out.
“Thank you,” I whisper as he hands me a large, heavy cup. “What movie are we watching?”
“You’ll see.” The white of his teeth glows as he grins back at me in the dark room.
"You're such a butthead." I elbow him in the ribs. “It’s probably a shitty movie since literally no one else is here.” Seriously. That cannot be a good sign.
“Well, it’s not my preferred choice of movie, but the reason the theater is empty is because I rented it out.”
I blink. And then I blink some more.
“You rented out the entire theater,” I deadpan. I think there was a question in there, but my brain can’t handle things like verbal punctuation right now.
“Yeah.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. Like this is a regular, everyday occurrence. The man just rented out an entire movie theater!
Before I can tell him how ridiculously over-the-top he is, the movie starts playing. I freeze. I’d recognize the opening scene of this movie blindfolded.
Mister Billions: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Fake Marriage Billionaire Romance Page 14
