Sinful Rewards 12

by Cynthia Sax

  “You look stupidly happy with your security guard.” Derision glitters in Tara’s cold, brittle eyes. “How long will that last, I wonder? Will it be months or weeks before he hops on his bike and leaves you?”

  She hates me. For the first time in my life, I ask myself why. I’ve never done anything to warrant her loathing. Could her attacks be a deflection, as Mrs. Davis’s were, as Mr. Wynters’s were? Were her criticisms about herself, not me?

  Have I been trying to impress someone who is more fucked-up, more miserable and self-loathing, than I’ve ever been?

  “He clearly spent every last dime he had on your ring.” Tara’s gaze flicks to my finger. “Enjoy the diamonds now, because they’ll soon be pawned to pay the rent on a pitiful apartment in some nasty neighborhood.”

  “Tell her who I really am, Belinda.” Hawke’s voice is edged with anger.

  “You’d do that for me?” I glance over my shoulder.

  “I’d do anything for you.” He’s serious. I see this in his eyes. He’d reveal his ownership of the Organization, his vast wealth, to give me one moment of satisfaction, the glory of seeing Tara realize that I now have everything—wealth, power, a man who would do anything for me.

  A man I love, a man I wouldn’t ever put in danger. My gaze returns to the beautiful blonde. I don’t need Tara’s approval. I have Hawke’s love.

  “I’ll tell Tara who you really are, Hawke.” My voice grows louder. I want everyone in the diner to hear this, to never doubt his worth. “My husband-to-be is more than a security professional, much more.” I lift my chin. “He served in the marines, traveled overseas, saw combat, war. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing now, how much money he is or isn’t making. He was prepared to die for our freedom, to protect you and me. That alone earns him our respect and my love.”

  “Hear! Hear!” Men and women raise their glasses, clinking them together.

  Tara’s face reddens. Her mouth opens. She looks at the men around us and presses her lips together. That’s a smart decision. Whatever hurtful comment she was about to make wouldn’t find any support with my new friends.

  “I love you, Belinda Carter,” Mack calls, and the men laugh.

  “I’m taken, Mack.” I smile at him. He smiles back at me.

  I then pivot on my designer heels to face Hawke, ignoring the team’s gibes, teasing, laughter, turning my back on Tara and on my past.

  My military man’s face glows with pride, with love.

  I did that, put that lopsided smile on his lips, that warmth in his eyes. “Let’s show my mom the ring.” I curl my fingers around his worn, weathered palms.

  He leads me through the crowds. Our progress is slow. Men ask me if I have any single friends, tease Hawke about securing a prize. That prize is me. I stand taller. They think I’m worthy of their leader, worthy of forever.

  We stand in front of a wall of screens. My mom’s beaming face appears on the first display. Her hair is loose. Her smile reaches her eyes. She looks a decade younger than she did a week ago.

  My relationship with Hawke did that, took the worry from her heart, her soul.

  “Hi, Mom.” I wave at her, thrilled to have her with me on this special day.

  “Hi, honeybee.” She waves back. “You’re famous. You’re on TV.”

  “So are you.” I grin, her excitement escalating mine. “Did you see Hawke’s proposal?” I hold up my ring. The diamonds catch the light, splitting it into a rainbow of colors.

  “I saw everything.” She sniffs. Moisture glistens on her cheeks. “He’s such a good boy. When he said there was no other woman for him—” Her voice breaks.

  I swallow the huge lump of emotion forming in my throat. “He wants to marry me, Mom.” My vision blurs. I can’t believe this has happened, that all of my dreams have come true.

  “He will marry you.” Hawke wraps his arms around me, his chest warm against my back. “You’re my girl, Belinda.” He rests his chin on the top of my head. “That makes you one of my girls, too, Ms. Carter, and my girls don’t worry about anything, understand?”

  I suck back a sob. He’ll help me take care of my mom.

  “Yes, sir.” My mom snaps into a salute.

  My laughter joins Hawke’s. My mom looks adorable and not at all dignified. My salute has to be better than hers.

  “Show me that big-assed ring,” Cyndi demands from the next display. “You dirty whore.”

  I beam, my heart expanding until it threatens to burst from my chest. I have friends, a happy mom, a biker family, a humongous rock on my finger, and a mountain of a man behind me, a former marine whom I love and who loves me.

  It’s damn good to be Bee.

  Chapter Eight

  “DID YOU SEE Nicolas’s face when you asked him to be your best man?” I skip along the third-floor hallway, still bubbling with excitement hours later, thrilled to be returning to the condo, our permanent home. “Thank you.” I hug Hawke’s arm. “It meant a lot to him.”

  “Nicolas was the right choice.” My military man links his fingers with mine. “He was the reason we met when we did.”

  “He was the reason we met at all.” That precariously thin thread of fate, joining us, creates an anxiety inside me. Which is foolish. We did meet. We’re together now. “If Nicolas hadn’t asked you to investigate me, if I hadn’t moved into his beautiful building with Cyndi, you—”

  “I would have found you eventually.” Hawke’s tread is soundless on the luxurious blue carpet, the rolling, purposeful walk of a natural predator. “I would have roamed the planet, searching for you, not stopping until you were in my arms.”

  God, he knows what to say. My heart swells with emotion, his words making my insides melt into a puddle of warm goo. “You said I could have my wicked way with you.” I want him. Now.

  “I’m all yours.” Hawke swings me into his arms, and I yelp, surprised. The barbed wire tattoo ripples along his right bicep.

  “What are you doing?” I slap his cotton-covered chest.

  Hawke opens the door to our condo. “I’m carrying my bride across the threshold.” The scent of lemons fills my nostrils. “It’s good luck.”

  “I’m not your bride yet.” I will be soon. My toes curl in my shoes.

  “You’ve always been my bride.” He steps into our home, my body cradled in his arms.

  We’re not entering an empty space. Gisele sits on her haunches, staring up at us with her yellow cat eyes. My chest heats. Has she been waiting for us all this time?

  “Hi, Gisele.” I grin at her. “Did you miss us?”

  She flicks her tail and walks away, her lean body swaying.

  “That would be a no.” I track her progress, expecting her to turn around, to give us, her pet parents, a warmer welcome. She doesn’t. Our cat is a diva.

  “Gisele is a cat, love.” Hawke chuckles, his chest vibrating against my shoulder. “They aren’t the most demonstrative creatures.”

  “They aren’t the neatest creatures either.” Dry cat food is scattered across the hardwood floor, the tiny smiling fish spread everywhere. The missile launcher-themed scratching post has also been torn to strips. “You’ve been bad, Gisele.”

  Our cat plunks her skinny feline ass in front of the window and gazes out, ignoring me and the disastrous state of the room. I can’t blame her for not caring. Before we met, she was living alone in a garbage-filled back alley, having been abandoned by her humans. We’ll have to earn her trust and her love.

  As Hawke earned mine.

  “Gisele made a terrible mess while we were gone.” I wiggle, trying to free myself from his grip. “I should clean it up.”

  “Cleaning can wait.” He walks with me into our bedroom.

  “But”—my fingers twitch—“our home is filthy.”

  “Love is messy, sweetheart.” Hawke tosses me onto the bed and I bounce. “You’ll soon see how messy.” He pulls his T-shirt over his head, drops it on the floor.

  I stare up at him, admiring his muscular f
orm, in awe that this man belongs to me. Tattooed wings stretch across Hawke’s collarbone, the black ink contrasting with his golden skin. USMC is printed on his left pec, over his heart, a visible reminder of his days in the Marines. A thick scar slashes through his right nipple. If his wound had been deeper, I would have lost him, would never have experienced this wild, unruly, yet lasting and constant love.

  Under the white gauze wrapped around his left hand is his latest tattoo, my name branded on his skin forever. I’ll change that bandage later, care for him as he cares for me.

  “You’re not undressing.” Hawke nudges his big boots off his feet and removes his socks.

  “I’m enjoying the show.” I fold my arms behind my head. “Sometimes I like to watch too.”

  “I like that you watch me.” He echoes words I’ve said to him in the past and flexes his muscles for me, the cascading ridges of flesh over his abdomen rippling. “But this is an interactive show. I expect audience participation.”

  “You’ll get it.” I won’t be able to keep my hands off him.

  “Good.” Hawke pops the fly of his faded blue jeans one button at a time, revealing dark curly hair and a hard shaft. My mouth dries and I lick my bottom lip. Hawke’s gaze tracks this movement, his eyes brightening to a brilliant blue. He shoves the denim downward and straightens proudly, allowing me to look at all of him.

  This man is mine. It’s his ring on my finger. I touch the band and his cock bobs. He likes that I’m his, that every man knows I’m taken.

  “Hawke.” I don’t hide my need.

  “If you like your pretty clothes, remove them.” His eyes gleam. “Because I’m one hot look away from ripping them off your sweet body.”

  “We can’t have that.” My fingers tremble as I unbuckle my shoes. “I earned these clothes.” I kick them off my feet. “I was a very bad girl.” I tug my blouse and my camisole over my head, not caring . . . much . . . where they landed, my attention on him, on tormenting my former marine until he breaks.

  That will happen soon. Hawke watches me with a pussy-wetting intensity, his fingers curling into tight fists, a bead of precum forming on his cock head.

  “I fucked a sexy hunk in front of an audience.” I unzip my pants, shimmy them over my hips. “I begged for more, more, more as he rammed his big cock into my tight, hot pussy.” I run my hands over my bare skin, pull the cups of my bra downward, showing him my ivory curves, my taut pink nipples.

  “Time’s up.” Hawke pounces on me. I squeal, trying to escape him, hoping I won’t be successful. He pins me to the mattress and yanks on my panties, shredding them, the silk burning my skin. His savagery thrills me. The slight pain spikes my need.

  “Yes, take me.” I arch, pressing my nipples against his chest. “Stamp your ownership all over me.”

  “You belong to me.” Hawke prods my entrance with his broad tip. “And only me.” He thrusts hard and deep, filling me completely, and I cry his name, tilting my hips to take all of him, every delicious inch. Nothing feels as good as his cock inside me, his fit physique over mine, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

  I grasp his shoulders. The diamonds on my left hand sparkle, Hawke’s visible claim on my body, heart, soul thrilling me. He won’t regret his decision. I’ll read articles, research secrets of lasting couples. I’ll be the best damn fiancée possible.

  And if I fail, he’ll love me anyway. Hawke doesn’t expect perfection from me. I rock with him, splattering kisses over his stubble-covered cheeks, square chin, neck. He has seen me at my worst—covered with grime, red-eyed from crying, semihysterical with fear, losing my shit over a misunderstanding—and he continues to care, to want me.

  My military man won’t ever leave me. I undulate under him, caressing him with my entire form, our tempo unhurried, as though we have a lifetime to find release.

  We do. He’s mine forever. Rock’s dog tags nestle between my breasts, more proof of Hawke’s constancy, his devotion to friends, family, me.

  “Priceless.” He sweeps his lips over mine, sucks on my flesh, the pull escalating my need. “You’re so fuckin’ priceless.”

  He meets my gaze, his eyes brilliant blue with passion, and I glow, overfilling with confidence, seeing myself as he does. I’m not the child no one wanted, the disposable friend wearing cheap knockoffs, the easily replaced employee. I’m priceless, designer, one of a kind, a strong, powerful woman worthy of love, success, everything she ever wanted.

  “I have a price.” I wrap my arms around his neck, my legs around his hips, rising up to meet him. “Give me all of your love and you can have me, no refunds, no returns.”

  “You have it, Belinda.” Hawke drives into me harder, faster, his tanned skin glistening with moisture, darkening his tattoos, his silver scars. “You’ve always had all of my love.” The bed thumps against the hardwood floor. “All of me.”

  “Then I’m yours.” I’ve been his since the first moment we met, our love inevitable, as unstoppable as fate, as a summer storm. Our bodies smack together, the sound obscenely loud, and delicious heat radiates from my breasts, hips.

  The window is bare of curtains, of blinds. Anyone looking at our condo will see Hawke’s thick cock spearing between my pink pussy lips, his muscles moving against my curves, his golden skin sliding over my pale curves. They’ll see his ring on my finger, the bandage on his hand, realize our claim on each other, recognize us as a couple.

  I run my hands over his shoulders, his back, savoring the swell of muscle, the indents near his spine, the warmth and size of him. We’re no longer individuals, alone, with no one standing protectively behind us. We have each other.

  I bounce my heels against his clenched ass cheeks, urging him to move faster. He grunts, following my orders, increasing our pace, his thrusts shaking the bed, slamming the headboard against the wall.

  “Yes, give me everything you have.” I push back, amplifying each drive forward, turned on by his strength. This is my man. His power, his savagery, now belongs to me. “Make me feel you for days, weeks.”

  “Fuck, you’re perfect.” Hawke’s voice lowers to a deep growl, the sound rolling up my spine, feeding the flames inside me. “Made for me.” He presses his cheek against mine, his stubble razing my skin, the sensation mind-numbing.

  “Harder.” I push him more, wanting him beyond speech, beyond thinking.

  He complies, grunting with every thrust, his eyes wild. We fuck like two wild animals, rutting with no barriers between us, a shimmer of perspiration coating our forms. I pant, a strap of emotion tightening around my chest, restricting my lungs, making it difficult to breath. My arms and legs tremble. My pussy hums with the sweet abuse, my inner walls constricting around his shaft.

  “Love.” Hawke sucks on my neck, his muscles straining under my palms. His distinctive scent—leather, engine grease, and man—fills my nostrils, each gulp bringing him into my body. “Love.” He chants this endearment over and over as he pistons in and out of me, a relentless fucking machine designed to drive me insane.

  I dig my fingernails into his shoulders, holding on to him, my mountain, my rock, fighting to delay my release. We crash into each other again and again, our forms meshing, then retreating, meshing, then retreating.

  Each collision strips more of my control, pushing me closer to the brink until I’m dangling over the abyss, supported only by my grip on him. He won’t allow me to fall, not until I want to.

  Oh shit. I grit my teeth, tremors shaking my form. I can’t delay much longer.

  My lust-ravished gaze sweeps over Hawke. He appears as far gone. Veins lift on his forehead. His body is hard, his muscles flexed. I’m tormenting both of us by denying my release.

  “Hawke.” I tilt my head, offering him the delicate skin at my neck. “Please.” I need the pain to pitch me over the edge. “I need.”

  “Yes.” He scrapes his teeth over my neck. He knows what I need. I quiver, ready, so fucking ready for this. “Come for me, love.” Hawke thrusts deep. “Come n
ow.” He nips my skin.

  I scream his name, propelling myself upward. He doesn’t allow me to fly far, to hurt myself, caging me with his muscle, pinning me to the mattress, his cum heating my pussy, his cock pulsing inside me.

  I wiggle and writhe. He pushes deeper, grinding his base against my clit, drawing more pleasure from my unwilling form. Colors explode in my mind, more radiant than the diamonds on my finger. Warmth spreads over me, our connection perfect, right.

  This is what forever feels like. I fall back, staring up at Hawke. And this is what it looks like. I cup his cheeks, his short coarse hairs tickling my fingers. Forever isn’t pretty or perfect. I stroke his blunt features, his square chin. But it’s real and better than I ever imagined. I wish everyone could experience this.

  “I love you, Hawke.” My voice is husky.

  “I love you too, sweetheart.” He rolls onto his back, taking me with him. I sprawl over his heaving chest, riding the ups and downs of his breaths, his heart pounding under my cheek. “This is where you belong.”

  He strokes his fingers through my hair, smoothing the strands, his touch comforting me. “It is.” I smile.

  Epilogue

  FIVE MONTHS LATER, I still can’t believe I’m getting married.

  “This is the finishing touch.” Kenzie, the perky bridal consultant, places the lace veil on my head. This gorgeous one-of-a-kind handcrafted accessory matches my Vera Wang mermaid gown, yet is classic and timeless, an heirloom piece to be handed down to my daughter.

  The daughter we haven’t yet conceived. I press my fingers over my flat stomach. Hawke and I were both disappointed that the first broken condom didn’t have consequences, that we didn’t immediately need the wedding dress I had rush ordered.

  “You’ll be a beautiful bride, Belinda.” Kenzie presses her hands together, her eyes glowing. “Do you want to show the others?” My entourage waits in a nearby viewing room.

  “I’ll be out in a second.” I want to have a moment of my own, to absorb this, freeze this occasion in my mind.