Sinful Rewards 12

by Cynthia Sax

  “Take your time.” She leaves me to dream of the man I love, the day we’ll officially become one.

  R, Nicolas’s club, is reserved for a Saturday three weeks from now. Everything is taken care of: the flowers, cake, food ordered. Hawke will wear his tux. My mom will walk me down the aisle. We’ll dance and laugh and celebrate love, life, friends, and family.

  I gaze at my image in the full-length mirror one more time and slip out of the dressing room. My heels make no sound on the plush carpet. I creep toward the viewing room, peek around the corner.

  Ellen and Mack, my security team for the day, stand by the far entrance, nattering back and forth. Ellen was assigned to this girly outing. Mack volunteered. I suspect he wished to tease the beautiful assassin. I also suspect that he likes her more than he admits, his gaze following her everywhere.

  My unlikely advisors are seated on the three white couches facing a pedestal. Nicolas, my billionaire friend, lounges on one couch, his legs sprawled before him, his dark head bent over his phone, a scowl on his handsome face. On another couch, Lona is applying red lipstick to my mom’s smiling lips. The two older women have formed a surprising bond during the wedding planning. Susan and Cyndi sit on the third couch. Susan is staring at Nicolas as though he’s a tub of that Heavenly Hash ice cream he’s always bringing me. Cyndi is yapping on her phone.

  Our business, Covert Couture, is growing at a dizzying rate, and she has been interviewing possible assistants for two positions, one in Chicago and the other in LA. One of Cole’s actress friends talked about our desire to be stylists for the average woman in a celebrity gossip magazine, and our phone has been ringing off the hook ever since.

  Hawke grumbles about how he and the Organization are our most important clients and we shouldn’t forget that, but I know he’s proud of us. His pale blue eyes glow whenever I talk about the business.

  Being a stylist puts more pressure on me to ensure my wedding dress is perfect. I’ll be representing our company.

  It’s time to be critiqued.

  “Duh, duh, duh-duh.” I hum the wedding march as I move forward, walking as I will on my special day.

  Phones lower. Heads turn. My mom bursts into tears.

  “My honeybee is getting married.” She gives me a watery smile.

  Lona pushes tissues into her hands.

  “Hawke is going to freak.” Cyndi bounces, her enthusiasm causing Susan to bounce also. “You had better plan to cut the cake right away. Your badass biker will want to start the wedding night early.”

  “You have that freshness, that innocence men can’t resist,” Lona, the expert in men, adds. “Am I right, Mr. Rainer?”

  Nicolas gazes at me, appreciation in his brown eyes. “Are you trying to get me killed, Miss LaMarre? I’m not commenting on the attractiveness of our bride-to-be. I like my head where it is.”

  “Stuck up your ass,” Cyndi mutters. The two have come to an agreement. She makes wisecracks. He ignores her.

  Kenzie joins us, fluttering around, oohing and aahing. My mom continues to cry. Cyndi and Susan look to me for advice with their own looks. Lona is busy, comforting my mom.

  That leaves me with my blunt-talking billionaire as a source of feedback.

  “You promised to be brutally honest with me, Nicolas.” I turn, allowing him to see my dress from all angles. “Tell me how I can improve my look.”

  He surveys me with a critical eye, taking his role seriously. “It’s almost perfect.”

  “Almost?” Cyndi gasps. “She looks like a fuckin’ fairy princess.”

  “The top”—he waves a well-manicured hand at my bodice—“is too loose.”

  “You’re an uptight prig, Rainer.” My best friend springs to the dress’s defense. “You can’t swathe her from head to toe in fabric. This isn’t medieval times.”

  “Straight men don’t know about fashion.” Kenzie is on Cyndi’s side.

  “Maybe not.” Nicolas’s voice is curt and clipped. “But this straight man does know he’d rather not look at his best friend’s nipples all night.”

  “She’s not your best friend.” Cyndi jumps to her feet. “She’s mine.”

  “And mine,” Susan murmurs.

  “And mine,” Lona adds.

  “You look so beautiful.” My mom blows her nose.

  They love me. These five crazy wonderful people love me, consider me their best friend, and, in my mom’s case, her beloved daughter. My eyes sting with unshed tears. Oh God. I tilt my head back. They’ll make me cry too.

  “I know that look.” Cyndi stalks up to me, having designated herself as my emotional watchdog. “You have to hold it together on your wedding day or you’ll ruin your makeup.” She punches me on the shoulder. “Better?”

  “Better.” I rub my skin. “Thanks.”

  “Not a problem. It’s what a best friend would do, a true best friend.” She slides her gaze to Nicolas. He lifts one eyebrow. Cyndi narrows her eyes at him and then looks down my top. “I don’t see any nipples, Rainer.”

  Kill me now. My face heats.

  “I’m taller than you are.” He sounds damn sure about his position on my cleavage.

  Cyndi drags over a chair, stands on it. Red creeps up her neck. She glances at the far wall for a moment, takes another look down my dress, and sighs. “Shit. The bodice needs to be tighter.”

  Nicolas’s lips curl upward, his expression smug.

  Kenzie clips the bodice. “It’s a small alteration, Belinda. We can do it in a couple of days.”

  “That’s fine.” I gaze at Nicolas. “Is there anything else I should modify?”

  “The asshole in me is tempted to say your choice of husband-to-be,” the billionaire teases, his smile reaching his eyes. “Hawke is a fortunate man.”

  “I’m a fortunate woman.” I smile back at him. “I’ll change into my street clothes and then we can all go for lunch.” Nicolas opens his mouth, a protest written across his gorgeous face. “You promised me half the day, Mr. Rainer.”

  Nicolas groans. Cyndi cheers. My mom cries harder.

  If she’s this emotional over my dress, Hawke will, as Cyndi says, freak. This is exactly the response I want. I hum happily as I return to the dressing room.

  Kenzie takes my veil. “I shouldn’t have said that to Mr. Rainer. I forgot who he was.” She unzips my dress, helps to lower the garment.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I step out of the circle of fabric. “He wasn’t offended.” I assist her in placing the dress back in the garment bag. “Between you and me, I think more people should forget who he is.”

  “That’s unlikely.” She laughs. “I’ll take your dress to alterations.” The blonde hurries out of the dressing room.

  I gaze at myself in the mirror. The strapless dress didn’t require a bra and my breasts are bare, my nipples tightening in the cool air. I’m wearing only my white heels, thigh-high stockings, panties.

  This is how Hawke will see me on my wedding night, my brown hair cascading down my back, my skin as pale as my undergarments. I touch the stockings, enjoying the feel of them against my palms. Will he like them too, or do men prefer skin?

  The door clicks open and closed behind me. Kenzie would know.

  “Are the stockings too much?” I ask. “I want to look sexy, not sleazy.”

  “Sweetheart, if you look any sexier, I won’t make it through the service.” Hawke’s big form appears behind me in the mirror.

  “Hawke.” I manage to turn my squeal into a whisper. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  “It’s good that I am.” He slides his scarred fingers along my stocking, leaving a trail of sexual awareness over my form. “My consultation skills are needed.” He clasps the dainty ribbon ties at my hips. “I expect my bride to be bare under her wedding dress.”

  “I couldn’t try on my wedding dress with no panties.” I lean against him, trusting my former marine to keep me upright, to never allow me to fall. “This is a respectable boutique.”

&nbs
p; “You’re not trying on your wedding dress right now.” He twists the ribbons until they snap, the fabric burning my skin. The panties float to the floor. He’s such a beast. My eyes glow.

  “You didn’t see my dress, did you?” I attempt a stern tone, achieve huskiness. “It’s bad luck.”

  “I didn’t peek.” Hawke cups my mons, the contrast of his tanned hand against my ivory skin exciting me, the pressure exactly right. “I waited for the blonde lady to leave.”

  Kenzie could return. “She might come back.” The possibility of being caught thrills me. “Discover us.”

  “Then we’ll have to be quick.” Hawke spreads his fingers, parting my pussy folds, revealing my pinkness. “And quiet.” He nuzzles against my neck, teasing me with the stubble on his chin. “No screaming my name or begging me for more, more, more.”

  He knows it’s impossible for me to remain silent, especially with the way he touches me. “You’re bad.” I gaze at him through the mirror, enthralled by the love on his face, the passion in his eyes.

  “I’m the worst.” Hawke pushes his tattooed ring finger inside me, and I bite down on my bottom lip, stifling my moan. “Watch us, sweetheart.”

  He pumps me with this permanent symbol of his love. My juices glisten on the black ink. I rock, taking him deeper and deeper. He adds a second finger, stretching me even more.

  I’m wearing heels and flimsy white stockings, my form tiny against his wide shoulders, fit physique. Hawke is fully dressed in his hideous black T-shirt, faded blue jeans, monstrous boots. The contrast between us never fails to stimulate me.

  It must turn him on also. The ridge in his jeans presses between my ass cheeks.

  I want that big cock inside me. “Don’t tease me, Hawke.” I bend over, flattening my palms against the mirror. “You know what I want.” I wiggle against him.

  “Patience, love.” He gives me that lopsided grin I adore, leisurely strokes me, determined to drive me crazy.

  I have ammunition of my own. “I forgot to take my birth control pills today.”

  This statement gets immediate results. “Fuck, Belinda.” My military man pulls his fingers from my wet pussy, straightening. “You tell me this now?” He pops his button fly. “If I’d known, I would have spent the morning inside you.” He shoves the denim to his knees.

  “You did spend the morning inside me.” I grin, waving my ass in the air.

  “I would have spent every minute of it.” Hawke prods my feminine folds with his tip, searching for my entrance. “You would have missed this appointment.” He finds what he’s looking for, pushing his broad cock head into me, filling me as only he can.

  “Then we would have missed this.” I meet his gaze via our reflection.

  “You’re so fuckin’ perfect for me.” He thrusts deep, making us one, again, still, forever. I chomp down on my bottom lip, sucking back a scream, waves of delight radiating from my center.

  He doesn’t allow me to catch my breath, pulling back and driving forward, pulling back and driving forward, his face dark with intent, his eyes fierce with emotion. When I woke, he loved me gently in our bed, then hard against the shower stall wall.

  This is a different type of fucking, one I have yet to experience. Hawke is a virile dominant male seeking to plant his seed in his fertile female, to create the next generation, to bind us together permanently. He’s primitive and feral.

  And I love it. I pant against the mirror, steaming up the surface, my breasts swaying with each vigorous thrust. Our bodies smack together, heat spreading over my ass, thighs, lower back. He grips my hips, holding me in place.

  Not that I wish to escape him. I sway backward, meeting him halfway, as equals, a strong woman claiming her strong man. Moisture covers my form, creating a sheen that reflects the light, making me sparkle all over like the diamonds on my finger.

  The air fills with my musk, with his unique leather, engine grease, and man scent. He bends over me, the cotton of his T-shirt soft against my back, and grunts into my ear, the primal sounds of our rutting causing my pussy to constrict around his shaft.

  “Hawke.”

  “Hush, love.” He drags his teeth over my neck, flooding my form with bliss.

  We have to be quiet. If we aren’t, we’ll have to stop, and I don’t want that. Ever. This feels too good, too right. There are no barriers between us, our connection tight.

  “Fuck.” Hawke ravishes me with his cock, smacking his balls against my skin. “Fuck.”

  He pulls my hair, forcing my head upward, demanding that I meet his gaze. His eyes are brilliant blue, shining like sapphires. His jaw is clenched. Sweat beads on his forehead.

  We fuck like wild animals in this sophisticated Chicago wedding boutique, writhing, bucking, Hawke’s fingers twisting in my tendrils. Outside this dressing room, women are talking about tiaras and tulle, silk and taffeta, not knowing that one massive groom is pounding his cock into his bride-to-be, taking her like the savage he is.

  “Hawke?” I shake, crazed with the need to come. When I do, I’ll scream and everyone will know. We’ll be discovered, embarrassed. “Hawke?” I need his assistance. He’ll know what to do.

  “Hush.” My resourceful former marine covers my mouth with one of his hands. He smells like me, like my wet pussy, and this pushes me closer to the edge. “Come for me, love.” He teases my shoulder with his teeth. “Come now.” He nips my skin as he drives forward.

  I bite down on the heel of his hand, smothering my screams, my world exploding. He fills my pussy with liquid heat. My inner walls squeeze around his cock, release, squeeze around his cock, release, milking every last drop of his cum.

  “Fuck.” He staggers backward, falls with a loud thud. I land on top of him, impaled upon his shaft, quivering, mouthing his palm, tasting the metallic tang of blood.

  “I love you.” Hawke rubs his stubble-covered face against my neck. “I love you so damn much.” He releases my lips.

  “I hurt you.” My teeth marks mar his scarred skin.

  “That was so fuckin’ hot.” He wraps his arms around me.

  Only he would think so. Only Hawke accepts my inner freak.

  “I love you.” I place his hands on my stomach. He splays his fingers, holding as much of me as possible. “Do you think we were successful?” Is his baby inside me?

  “There’s only one way to ensure success.”

  “How?” I gaze up at him.

  A slow smile spreads across his face, one corner of his lips hitching higher than the other. “We keep trying.” Hawke rolls me onto my back.

  I have a feeling we’ll be late for lunch.

  Nicolas is going to be pissed.

  Even though Bee and Hawke’s story has reached its conclusion, you don’t have to say good-bye forever!

  Go back to the beginning and see where it all started or reread your favorite installment!

  Experience

  The World of Sinful Rewards

  Sinful Rewards 1

  A Billionaires and Bikers Novella

  Belinda “Bee” Carter is a good girl; at least, that’s what she tells herself. And a good girl deserves a nice guy—just like the gorgeous and moody billionaire Nicolas Rainer. He is everything she wants in a man.

  Or so she thinks, until she takes a look through her telescope and sees a naked, tattooed man on the balcony across the courtyard. Hawke is mysterious, the bad boy she knows will bring only heartbreak. He has been watching her, and that makes him all the more enticing.

  But when a mysterious and anonymous text message dares her to do something bad, she must decide if she is really the good girl she has always claimed to be, or if she’s willing to risk everything for her secret fantasy of being watched.

  Is her mystery man the reclusive billionaire with a wild side or the darkly dangerous bad boy?

  Sinful Rewards 2

  A Billionaires and Bikers Novella

  Belinda “Bee” Carter isn’t quite sure what she’s gotten herself into. She’s been
receiving mysterious messages from a secret admirer who is sending her more and more erotic dares. Each time she fulfills his desires, she gets rewarded. She’s convinced that her mystery texter is one of two super-hot men—Nicolas, the handsome billionaire, or Hawke, the sexy biker—but she can’t tell which one it is. And she’s coming to realize that beneath her peaches-and-cream exterior beats a heart that longs to play out all of her most secret fantasies.

  As the stakes are raised again, will Bee succumb to the sensual allure of this latest dare?

  Sinful Rewards 3

  A Billionaires and Bikers Novella

  Bee Carter’s carefully constructed world is tumbling down around her designer knockoff heels. Pleasing others isn’t working for this small-town fashionista. Bee decides to throw caution to the Chicago wind for one night and release her inner bad girl, accepting a sexy challenge from an unknown texter, exploring the backseat of a limousine with gorgeous billionaire Nicolas, and entering a rough, tough biker bar with the mysterious Hawke.

  Two hot men, one wicked night. When this good girl goes wild, who will make her erotic dreams come true—the enigmatic billionaire or the tattooed bad boy?

  Sinful Rewards 4

  A Billionaires and Bikers Novella

  Four years ago, Bee Carter left her tiny hometown, escaping her tormenters. She concealed her tarnished reputation under a good-girl persona, hiding her history from Nicolas, her strong and silent billionaire, Hawke, her tattooed bad boy biker, and Cyndi, her man-crazy best friend.

  Today, she’s returning home . . . and she’s not alone. Some of her deepest darkest secrets will be revealed. Trust will be tested. Clothing and inhibitions will be discarded. Bee and her hometown will never be the same.

  Sinful Rewards 5

  A Billionaires and Bikers Novella

  Nicolas Rainer, Chicago’s most sought-after billionaire bachelor, has finally decided what he wants, and that’s Bee Carter in his arms, forever. He shows up unannounced on her doorstep and kisses her until her toes curl and her body burns.