Temporary Wife (Episode 3)

by Rossi St. James

  Blush warmed my cheeks as I tugged my dress down and climbed out of the car. Lincoln grabbed my hand as he led me to the elevator, taking me up to his room, which happened to be a penthouse suite.

  Pressing me up against the wall the second we stepped inside his room, his body pinned me and I loved it. He grabbed my wrists and lifted them above my head, holding them against the wall as his free hand pulled up my skirt once more. Slipping two fingers inside me and curling them toward him, I squeezed my eyes and focused on the rough and soft sensation of his fingers deep inside me, fucking me faster and faster.

  But I wanted the real thing.

  “Lincoln,” I breathed. I meant to ask him to fuck me, but my body took over and forced my brain into a pile of mush that couldn’t form a sentence to save my life.

  He released my wrists and his fingers worked the zipper of my dress until it fell off me and landed into a puddle around my feet. With one hand, he unhooked my bra letting that fall to the hotel carpet as well. One yank later, and my panties were lying in two pieces on the ground.

  I’d never been wanted like that before, and it made my core burn like liquid desire.

  The clink of his belt and the rush of the zipper filled the silence between us as he undressed and nodded toward the king sized bed in the next room. Lincoln didn’t need to use words. His command was in the way he looked at me with molten craving and my need for him was too potent to deny if I even wanted to.

  I sauntered, naked, toward the bed, lying in the middle and waiting until he climbed over top of me. His mouth found my nipple, toying it in his teeth as his hardness pressed against me, engorging by the second. Lincoln’s hand ran the length of my curves until he reached my hip, and then he spread my legs wide and far.

  Lincoln produced a foil packet, ripping it with his teeth and sheathing his cock before readying it at my entrance. My breathing hitched as I waited for the plunge, but Lincoln took his sweet time, as if he wanted to savor the moment.

  Inserting himself one inch at a time, I released a deep breath the second he was inside me, and the muscles of my core clenched around him as if they couldn’t bear to let go. Slow thrusts picked up intensity as he pumped himself against me, our hips meeting and bucking in tandem as soft sighs escaped our lips and evaporated into the cool night air of the hotel suite.

  Lincoln pulled himself out of me, much to my dismay, without warning, and his strong hands gripped my hips, flipping me over to my stomach. He pulled my legs up and positioned himself behind me, pressing into me once again and pulling my hips back toward his with each thrust.

  His right hand reached around, finding my clit and circling it with each pump, bringing me closer to the edge. I could only hold on a little while longer. The build up was killing me, though I clung on for dear life.

  When it was too much to take, I let go, releasing a flurry of electric anticipation as a wave of ecstasy washed over me and settled between my legs. A few hard pumps and Lincoln had emptied himself into my clenched walls before crumbling on top of me and pinning me beneath his sweaty body.

  He lingered for a bit before slowly pulling out of me and rolling to the spot beside me. And then his arm lifted, landing on top of my heaving body and pulling me into him.

  “Who knew my billionaire fake husband liked to cuddle after sex?” I teased, trying to catch my breath and breath him in all at the same time.

  “Don’t read into it,” he teased back. “It’s kind of hard to be laying next to a beautiful girl like you and not want to press her naked body into mine.”

  I curled up into his arms, resting my head against his chest and listening to the steady drum of his heart as it slowed to a resting rate after a while. The sturdy thump-thump against my ear was calming, and it almost made me forget about how this would all vanish by the next day.

  “Before I forget,” I said, slipping the canary diamond ring off my finger and placing it in his hand. He held it up against the sliver of light that splayed in between the part in the curtains and we watched the sparkles dance a bit. “It was beautiful, Lincoln. And perfect.”

  He sat the ring on the nightstand and returned his attention to me. It took all the strength I had to resist the urge to facilitate some kind of deep pillow talk or in depth conversation about life that always seemed to want to dance on the tip of my tongue after sharing an intense experience like that with someone. But I didn’t want to make it into anything other than what it was – a fun little fling that meant absolutely nothing.

  “I should go,” I said, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. A few more minutes of cuddling, and I’d find myself wishing and hoping that I’d get to see him again. And I wasn’t in the market for a heartbreak caused by my own naivety. I stood up, nonchalantly eying his rock hard body and all the ripples and curves of his muscles as he lay naked on the bed. “Thanks for everything.”

  He stared up at me, offering a bittersweet half-smile, and nodded. For a second, I wished he’d have said something – anything – but as I got dressed, I was grateful he hadn’t said a thing. I didn’t want to be dissecting the last thing he said to me over and over, hoping for a sliver or a clue that could possibly mean something more.

  I left his hotel room with a new pep in my step and a brand new air of confidence swirling around me. I could do hard things. I could land a gorgeous man like that. And I could still have my independence. From that day forward, I vowed to own my power and wear it like a fine mink stole.

  ***

  Monday morning came fast and hard after a whirlwind weekend. The plane right back home to L.A. was boring and uneventful, and the empty seat next to me made me wish like hell Lincoln had been riding home with me. He must’ve had some work to do back in Chicago. I never pried. It was never my business.

  With my coffee in hand, my hair freshly styled, and my lips slicked in the juiciest shade of red, I charged into my office ready to tackle the pile of emails waiting patiently in my inbox.

  After greeting some colleagues and assuring them I had a nice time in Chicago, I settled in my desk and immersed myself in my work. About halfway through the morning, my assistant buzzed me to tell me I’d received a delivery. Deliveries weren’t uncommon. Working in PR, most days we received several deliveries of products we were hired to promote.

  I rounded the corner to my assistant’s desk, only to find an enormous vase of yellow tulips – the same shade of yellow as the canary diamond that had temporary graced my left ring finger the last few days. My heart fluttered as I reached for the card.

  Thanks for an unforgettable weekend.

  Lincoln

  PS – What are you doing this Friday?

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Rossi St. James is a twenty-something young woman with a passion for Oreos, crazy, twisted stories, and hiking trails with her two yellow labs, Sunny and Cloudy. When she’s not writing, you can probably find her scouring Pinterest for inspiration for her next book. (That’s pretty much all she uses Pinterest for anyway, as Rossi St. James cannot cook, sew, or craft).

  Email me anytime at rossiwrites@hotmail.com. I’d love to hear from you!

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  LETTER / THANK YOU FROM THE AUTHOR

  Dear Reader,

  Thanks so much for reading my book!

  If you enjoyed this story and have a moment, I’d love if you would write a review on Amazon!

  Love,

  Rossi

  PS – If you haven’t yet read CRAVED by the ALPHA BILLIONAIRE, I’ve included a small sample. Page ahead!

  SAMPLE of CRAVED by the ALPHA BILLIONAIRE

  Entire series available now!

  ONE

  MAISIE

  None of what happened that night was my fault.

  I couldn’t help that hours earlier I’d walked in on my boyfriend of five years fucking the living daylights out of my stepsister. I couldn’t he
lp it that I immediately proceeded to drive to the only bar in our one stoplight town that just so happened to be connected to the only hotel in town. And I couldn’t help that the hotel just so happened to be housing a man from New York City who looked an awful lot like Ryan Gosling.

  I also couldn’t help it that said Ryan Gosling twin was hitting on me something fierce. Or a least it felt like he was. I’d been drinking since the moment I sat down at the scratched wood bar.

  “I’m going to go ahead and stop you now,” I said, trying not to slur my words after my second double vodka. “You’re really hot and all, but I’m not in the market for whatever it is you’re peddling right now.”

  He inched closer to me, a slow smile simmering on his impossibly kissable lips. “You don’t have the slightest clue what I’m peddling.”

  “You just got done telling me that you’re some fancy pants businessman from New York City who got stranded in our itty bitty town because your private jet is having mechanical problems,” I said. “So you’re staying here for an indeterminate amount of time, and you’re bored. You want a hook up. I can read between the lines. I may be drunk, but I’m not stupid.”

  I slammed the rest of my drink and sat the glass down on the table, silently deliberating about whether or not I needed another. The room was slightly off kilter, but I fully intended to drink until I numbed the pain and forgot what it looked like to see my high school sweetheart’s pale white ass bobbing up and as my spread eagled stepsister screamed out his name in pleasure.

  And then he had the nerve to finish inside of her before I had a chance to bolt out of there. The vision of his clenched ass cheeks and strained neck as he moaned like a wild animal while simultaneously releasing himself inside her was forever burned into my mind.

  I shook my head, as if that could rattle the memory out of there. It seemed weird that I didn’t cry. Not once. I didn’t shed a single tear. Maybe I didn’t love him as much as I thought I did? It was being lied to. That’s what stung the most.

  “Louie, another vodka tonic, please!” I called out.

  He prepared another drink for me and slid it my way. “You going to stay the night, Maisie? You’re in no condition to drive home.”

  “Maisie,” the businessman said slowly. “That’s your name.”

  I’d refused to tell it to him earlier.

  “Thanks a lot, Louie,” I mumbled. I took a sip of my fresh drink and let it burn as it trickled down my throat. “So what’s your name? Since you know mine now and all.”

  “Sawyer,” he said. “Sawyer Thomas.”

  “Oh, wow, just like that now we’re on a second name basis,” I said, eyeing him up and down. “That’s smooth. Still not telling you mine though.”

  He raked his fingers through the side of his sandy brown hair, his hooded hazel eyes honing in on me like two sexy, concentrated lasers. Through my inebriated state, I couldn’t tell if he was amused, intrigued or annoyed with me. Maybe it was a little of everything.

  “I don’t want to have sex with you,” he said.

  I cocked my head to the side, my lips spreading into an amused grin. “Way to be blunt.”

  “You’re a little mouthy for my taste,” he said. He turned away from me, focusing on the T.V. above the bar that played highlights on some sports channel. The glint of his diamond cufflink caught the pale bar light above as he spun his drink with his fingers.

  “You probably like ‘em quiet so you don’t have to hear them complain about that poor excuse for a cock you’re packing,” I said. My cheeks reddened. I never spoke to strangers that way. It wasn’t my nature, and I was raised better than that. I was drunk. I was angry. I was taking everything about my shitty day out on this very attractive man who just so dared to make small talk with me at a hotel bar.

  Sawyer turned around slowly, an incredulous look on his face. “Wow.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my hand rushing to his shoulder. “Really. I’m so sorry. That was completely uncalled for. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

  I wanted to leave. I wanted to pretend that I hadn’t been an annoying, drunk bitch to this poor stranger. I wanted to go home and forget I’d ever stepped foot inside the Moonlight Lounge connected to the local Best Western. But I couldn’t leave. I’d been drinking heavily all night, and Louie wouldn’t allow it.

  “Excuse me,” I said, grabbing my purse and stumbling out of the bar. I made a bee line for the hotel lobby where I promptly reserved a suite and headed to the elevator. I fully intended to take off all my clothes, soak in a hot bath, wrap myself in a fluffy, white robe and order a pizza. If I was still coherent after that, I’d probably raid the mini bar.

  I found my room and pulled the keycard from the paper envelope.

  “So we meet again.”

  I turned around to find Sawyer directly behind me, his own keycard in hand as he walked to a door just one down from mine. We were staying right next to each other.

  My cheeks flushed ten shades of crimson. I’d bolted out of the bar to get away from him. It was just my luck that we’d be staying in neighboring rooms.

  “What’s up with this shrinking violet act all of a sudden?” he said with a smirk. “You make one remark about my cock, never having the pleasure of seeing it I might add, and all of a sudden you run away blushing?”

  “Look, I said I was sorry. I’ve had a really horrible day. Can you just cut me a little slack, please? Maybe pretend we never met and go on your pathetic little way?”

  “And there she is again,” he mused. “Mouthy Maisie.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I’ll have you know, my cock is huge. And I know most guys say that, but mine really is. But you’ll never know that, Mouthy Maisie, because you’re all bark and no bite. I can tell.”

  “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” I said, crossing my arms and squaring my gaze with his. I pushed away any and all thoughts that crept into my mind about his cock and how big it was. Or wasn’t.

  “I know you talk too much,” he said. “You didn’t shut up at the bar for two seconds, rambling on and on to the bartender like he gave two shits. I know you walked in on your boyfriend plowing your stepsister. I know you came here because you’re trying to forget about what you saw, as if alcohol was the perfect solution.”

  He huffed like the arrogant asshole he seemed to be.

  “Okay, Sawyer, what’s the perfect solution then?” I asked. “What could possibly make me forget about everything I saw earlier today?”

  He walked up to me, steady like a freight train, until our mouths held in limbo mere inches apart. The faint musk of an expensive cologne permeated off his warm skin and into my lungs. I swallowed the lump in my throat but it came right back.

  “Me,” he said. He lifted his hand to my face, twirling a strand of blonde hair around his fingers. “I could make you forget he ever existed.”

  END OF SAMPLE – Book available here!