Having the ring on shouldn't make this better. It should make me want to crawl out from under him and run away, except it doesn't. With the ring on my finger, my senses peak. The pleasure, the desire, the intensity, all of it curls up like fingers inside me, making me want more.
A wave of goosebumps surge across my skin as his dick spreads my walls and my pussy clenches around him. Kissing my neck, Bolt starts to move his hips, pulling out and pushing back in.
He's moving so slow my body is craving him, trying to rock against his thrust. I want to come, I want to feel him come, I want to jump out of this plane and let the wind catch me as I fall.
“Fuck, you're so wet.” His teeth nibble my throat as his hips start to move faster and harder.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I scratch my nails down his back. “You make me wet.” Moaning, I bury my face into his chest. “Fuck me, Bolt, fuck me.”
He hears my pleas, pistoning his hips like an engine going full blast. Our bodies are hot, sweat is dripping from his chest onto mine and running down onto the bed. His balls are slapping against my ass as he drives himself in deeper than anything I have ever felt before.
“I'm coming, fuck, I'm coming.” The words spill from my mouth on gasps as I try to breathe the hot air around us. “Mmm,” groaning, I press my forehead against his chest as he clutches the back of my neck and holds me firmly in place.
Bolt thrusts harder, his grunts growing louder and more unhinged as his muscles tighten. Stilling above me, he's buried deep inside my pussy, all the way to the base.
His cock throbs as my pussy milks his shaft. I can feel him through the condom, the way his cum is hot as it fills the tip, the way his dick is pulsing.
Rolling off me and onto his back, Bolt chuckles. “Now that was a good breakfast.”
“The breakfast of champions,” I say with a giggle. “How often do you have breakfast like that?” I'm probing him, I know. But I can't hide that I'm curious about his history, about where this type of thing fits into his life.
“I'd be happy if I could eat like that every day.” Smirking, he pushes himself up and pulls the condom off. Tying it up, he stands and walks naked to the bathroom.
My eyes follow him as he moves proudly through the room. I'm in awe as his perfect body is more of a piece of art than a living creature. His ass flexes as he walks, the muscles in his back twist and contort. His cock dangles by his inner thighs, still partially hard, but just as thick.
His skin is glistening, and all I can think about is running my tongue over each dip and curve, tasting his salty flavor.
Bolt disappears into the bathroom and the sound of water ripples through the air. “Is there something else you want to ask me?” Coming to stand in the doorway, he's drying his hands on a hand towel. “Because we don't have to do this dance, you can just ask.”
“What do you mean?” I know it’s a stupid question, but I feel cornered. He can see right through me, he knows what I’m getting at. I just don’t want him to know I’m digging for answers.
His past is none of my damn business. Neither is his present or his future, because all we have is an arrangement. Period.
Arching his brows, Bolt strolls back into the bedroom, the muscles in his legs popping with each step. My eyes run up and down his body, unable to look away. He’s a god, a god that has somehow gotten lost and ended up here with me.
Tilting his head into his shoulders, his pupils turn to pinpricks. “Starla, just ask.”
“No, no,” I say, waving my hand to brush the entire thing away. “It's none of my business, forget it. It's a stupid question, I shouldn't ask you something like that.”
“You have every right to ask. So, go on, ask me. I'm telling you to.”
Swallowing hard, my eyes flick away so I can take a breath and catch my bearings. It's hard to get any of the correct words in my brain with a naked Bolt Sheckler two feet away.
Finding the courage to be upfront and not dance around it, I force my voice to steady. “Have you been with a lot of women?” A sense of relief washes over me as the words leave my mouth.
It's an important question. We did just have sex, and if we plan on doing this fake bride thing for a few more months, I'd like to know. I don't need a precise number, I just need to know how often we might run into an ex on the street.
Nothing is worse than being out with some guy and running into their ex. It's awkward and uncomfortable, and you can usually see whatever it is the girl is still feeling in her eyes.
Hate.
Love.
Bitterness.
Rage.
Jealousy.
And somehow it's your fault. Not the guy, but you, the new girlfriend.
“Let me just say this,” Bolt takes a naked seat beside me, so I grip the sheet and wrap it around my chest. I have no idea what he's going to say. At least having the sheet gives me some sort of cover in case I have to make a run for it. “Who we are now, is not who we were ten years ago, a year ago—shit—we're not even the same as we were a month or even a day ago. People change. I'm not the same man I was before. Who I am today, is because I'm deciding to be that person, no one is making me be him. I hate when people only see one person and they can never let the old version go. It just keeps us all in the past, and it's not always a good place to be.”
His massive hand settles on my thigh and gives me a reassuring squeeze. I smile up at him, not sure how I want to handle his answer.
I know he's right. People change, and no one should be judged off who they once were. I just don’t know him well enough to call bullshit or not on what he’s feeding me.
I want to believe him. The look in his eyes is begging me to listen to this man and not the man I might have heard about.
But a player doesn't get his name from being honest. A player gets his name from telling girls what they want to hear to get them into bed.
Tightening the sheet around my chest, I angle my head. “I guess we'll just have to see about that.”
“You don't believe me?” he asks, his tone almost offended.
“Bolt, I'm pretending to be your wife, we're going to have a fake marriage, a fake relationship, a fake everything. Nothing about this—or us—is real. So, you tell me, how the hell can I believe anything, when we're both currently living a lie?”
Thinning his lips, Bolt nods his head. “That's what actions are for.” Lifting my hand, he kisses the ring on my knuckle as he tangles our fingers together. “How about we go get a real breakfast now?”
The issue of past or present, of who we are and who we aren't, it doesn’t mean a damn thing.
I’m not his to keep.
And he isn’t mine.
I can only wish the feelings flowing through me will vanish soon, otherwise, this whole arrangement is going to suck.
9
Bolt
“Lunch date today?” I ask, leaning over the bar and touching her cheek.
There is something about this woman that drives me crazy. Maybe it's the fact that what we're doing is completely wrong. Maybe it's the feeling of being bad that's making this feel so good. We’re lying to everyone, and we’re doing a damn good job of it too.
But there’s something I can’t ignore or deny, being with her makes me—happy. That’s the best word I can use to explain this feeling clawing its way through my gut.
We've spent every moment together since our weekend away. Starla has basically moved into my condo, she's there every night, and it doesn't even bother me. Before her, every woman was a one night stand, shit, sometimes it only lasted a few hours before I was walking her to the door and telling her we'd talk soon. When we were done, we were done. That was it.
With Starla it's different. We eat breakfast together, lunch together, dinner together. We spend the weekends watching movies and getting take-out or delivery because we don't want to leave the bed.
And the sex. . . Fuck, the sex has been incredible. I'm starting to forget what my life was like b
efore her. I almost don't even want to remember.
Almost.
“I'd love to,” she says, her voice sweet and soft. “But I'm not sure I'll have time. I have to restock these shelves and make sure next week's orders are set to go out. Then there's the aging barrels, I need to check the dates against the records.” Standing with her hands on her hips, she tilts her head as she looks down at the case filled with fresh liquor. “Plus, I'm supposed to go see Jim in the blend room, he said I could watch him in action.”
She has this look of excitement on her face, and the way her eyes twinkle makes my cock jerk and my balls draw up tight. Damn, she's so fucking beautiful.
I could stare at her all damn day and never get bored. A few days, I actually have. She doesn’t know, but I spend most of my day watching her as she pokes around the distillery and focuses on her job.
“Jim, shit, that guy's been here since my dad was a kid. Be careful with him, he might bore you to death with his snail like pace.” Moving my hand as slow as molasses, I attempt to reach a cocktail napkin on the bar.
Starla giggles and swats my arm away. “Stop, he's a genius, slow pace and all.”
“I'm way more exciting. Why don't we blend something together, maybe your body meets my body?” Smirking, I bounce my brows.
“Is that supposed to turn me on?” Her lips are pursed as she tries not to smile. But she wants to smile, I can see the corner of her lip twitch. “You expect me to drop my panties right here with your smooth words?”
“That wouldn't be a bad thing.” Flashing an even bigger grin, I bite my bottom lip.
“Not happening,” she says with a chuckle.
Tipping my head, I pout. “Fine. I guess I'll just make you have lunch with me. I am your boss after all.”
“Is that right?” Angling her head, she pushes herself up on the edge of the bar, bringing her nose to mine. “You're going to make me?”
Her eyes spark seductively as she uses her forearms to push up her tits. I'm ready to fuck her right here. Tear off her clothes, splay her body on the bar like the goddess she is, and fuck her until she screams my name.
Running her finger up my arm, the ring twinkles under the lights and I smile. “I love seeing that on you, you wear it beautifully.”
Her lips curl softly as she dips her head and looks down at her hand. Holding out her hand, she keeps her eyes on the ring. “I do like the way it feels on me, I can't lie about that.”
Walking around the bar, Starla turns to face me, and I pin her where she stands. “You look so damn sexy with it on. I want to see you in this ring and nothing else.” Cupping her cheek, I hold her face, running my thumb across her bottom lip.
She bites her lip and bats her lashes. “Mm, I like how that sounds.” Her smile warms my stomach. It's bright, it's playful, and it would look perfect wrapped around my cock.
Tugging her closer, I bite her bottom lip and pluck it with my teeth. “I can't get enough of you.” Kissing her, my hand sweeps across the back of her neck and into her hair.
My cock is hard, pushing angrily against my pants. Slipping my leg between hers, I push my dick into her thigh. Tugging her head back, I lick her throat. “Fuck, the things you do to me.”
Starla lets out a coo as she rolls her head in my hand. “We shouldn't do this here. If your father shows up—”
“Don't worry about him.” I whisper into her ear, making sure my lips graze the shell.
My father is too busy right now drinking martinis on the beach in Hawaii to care about what's happening here. He's been there for weeks, taking advantage of the fact that he can come and go as he pleases with me here to run shit. He isn't coming back until after the reunion. Owning the company has it's perks.
“But what if—”
“My father isn't in charge anymore—I am.” My mouth finds hers and kisses her hard and deep. I suck in her air, filling her with the oxygen from my lungs.
She tastes fucking amazing, and all I want to do is spend the rest of the day with my lips on her body and my cock in her pussy.
The pads of my fingers slip up her shirt and find her tit, squeezing hard. Her body falls forward against my chest, relaxing into my hands. Gripping her roots, I tug her head back harder.
On reflex, her legs spread wide like Moses parting the Red Sea. My hands are the fuse that light her flame, making me only want her more. There's power in my touch, a power that makes her body tremble and her knees weak.
She's at my mercy. And I fucking love it.
Starla leans into the kiss, her tongue wrapping mine, twisting and moving. Her hands move down my ribs, running across my belt and down the zipper. My cock throbs, eager for her to touch it, stroke it, give it any kind of attention.
Her finger and thumb grip my swollen head through the outside of my pants and pinch it lightly. “Someone is excited.” Her words buzz over my mouth as she speaks, causing a tingly sensation on my skin.
Growling, I lift her easily, setting her on the bar. “Someone can't wait until tonight.” Stepping between her legs, I spread her thighs as wide as they can go. “Someone wants it now.”
The door beside the bar pops open and Gina barges in. Stopping in her tracks, her eyes dart between us. “Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize this was your bedroom now.”
Starla drops down from the bar, wiping her palms down her hair to straighten it out.
Taking a step back, I run my hand over my jaw and cock my head annoyed. “Did you need something, Gina?” I ask.
“Um, nope, just here doing my job.” She's being an ass, it's written all over her face and in the tone of her voice. “These shot glasses won't put themselves away.” Her smile is fake as shit and I have the urge to tell her to get lost.
I let it go, because she isn't worth my trouble. But if she keeps up with these shitty little comments, we're going to have an issue. I won't stand for her being so abrasive with me. I’m the owner's son, and one day soon, I'll own the entire fucking building and everything in it. She needs to show me the respect I deserve.
“And your check won't sign itself either if you don't watch that attitude.” Gina's back snaps straight, her mouth ready to spew some HR bullshit that I don't give two shits about hearing. I ignore her, not letting her talk as I turn my back on her and take Starla's face in my hands. Giving her a kiss, I tell her, “I have a few things to do, then we're grabbing lunch, sound good?”
“Yeah, sure, we can do that. I'll just meet up with James tomorrow.” Her smile is weak. Tension fills the air as Gina watches us from the corner of her eyes.
I know the other girls aren't happy about my relationship with Starla. Gina is probably more pissed than Valerie, but that's only because she's been trying to fuck me for over a year.
And I won't. I never will.
Giving Starla a deep, long, passionate kiss, I can feel Gina's stare trying to set us on fire. I don't care, I ignore her jealousy and kiss the woman I'm calling my wife. Pulling away, Starla's arms drop to her sides, and she has this dizzy look on her face.
“That was nice,” she says, reaching up to touch her lips.
“That's just the beginning.” Adjusting my jacket, I flip the collar and pull on my sleeve. “Just you wait until I get you home tonight.”
Blushing, Starla takes a small piece of her hair and starts to twist it into a tight spiral. “You have it all planned out already, huh?”
“I don't need to plan it. You make it easy to know what I want.”
Gina scoffs, dropping the crate of shot glasses on the bar and storming off.
Starla curls her arms around her ribs and shrugs. “It seems being your wife gets me more than just free lunch and good sex.”
“Has she been bothering you?” It suddenly hits me that maybe these girls have been more than just bitter with me. Maybe they're doing or saying things to her that they shouldn't be.
I hadn't thought about that at all. I was fine with them giving me dirty looks and snotty comments. But I’m not going to stand b
y and let them treat Starla like an outcast.
There isn’t going to be any mean girl shit here, not a chance in hell. Pushing her out or making her feel like she doesn't belong isn’t okay in my book.
I'm calling her my wife, and real or not, my employees need to respect her regardless.
“No, it's fine, it's not the girls I'm worried about.” Her eyes flicker with something, a worry, a fear, a concern. I just can't tell what it is.
“What does that mean? What are you worried about?”
Snapping her gaze to the floor, she slowly looks back up at me. “Nothing, it's nothing. Forget it.” Waving her hand, she runs her fingers through her hair and pulls it back against her scalp. “I'm going to finish up this stuff, and when you're ready to go, come get me.” Smiling, she grabs a bottle from under the bar and checks it against her list.
I don't like that she doesn't give me an actual answer. I'm not a man who plays guessing games. I like clean and cut, I like straight forward and to the point. I've always thought that was the generous thing to do, even if it isn’t good news.
But seeing that look in her eyes has me worried. This, what we have, it's such a simple arrangement. There's no reason for her to worry herself sick about a damn thing.
I'll keep her safe. I'll protect her.
And she'll get everything I promised her.
The desire to whisk her away and make her happy storms through my brain. I want to fix her, I want to fix everything in her life for her.
You will, in the end her life will be better than it was. The second my father sees her, he'll cast her away. . . The thought makes me cringe, so I push it down and focus on us right now.
“I don't want you to worry about anything. If you're worried about anyone finding out about us, don't. No one knows, and Yale won't say shit.”
A thin smile slips reluctantly across her lips. “Don't worry about it, it's not a big deal. I'll see you at lunch.” Kissing me quickly, she goes back to her bottles.
I'm not sure what it is that's bothering her, but I don't like it. Seeing her upset doesn't sit well with me. I want real smiles.
The Convenient Wife Page 8
