“And that would have been terrible PR,” Wendy joked. “Difficult to cover up. These pesky ambulances that keep following us around.”
“You’re not listening to me.”
“I am,” she said with equal gravity. “I hear you. But I’m not that girl. I’ve met this girl you’re describing. There are a lot of her out there. That girl is in love with weddings, or with the idea of getting married. I was never like that. In West Virginia, people didn’t understand me. When I first got to New York, though, I thought I would get married someday. I would meet some fast-talking funny guy who loved art and good parties and traveling. He was part of my new future.
“But even then, I concentrated more on the fact that we would be soul mates and we would bop around New York together. The idea of what dress I would wear to my wedding never entered my mind, I promise you. And gradually, even the idea of this guy faded, because he didn’t exist. I dated, but nothing ever lasted. I discovered, to my utter astonishment, that I am hard to get along with.”
She choked a little on her last few words and was embarrassed into silence. He watched her solemnly, his face unreadable as ever. The neon lights of the Strip danced behind him.
She found her voice again. “Even when I thought it would happen, I didn’t care so much about the wedding itself. I cared about the vow. Some people wouldn’t want to swear to love someone for the rest of their lives if they didn’t really mean it because God would be watching them. Some people wouldn’t want the government to sign off on that officially if they didn’t mean it. But to me, the person I feel like I’m letting down is myself. I mean, both our jobs are set up around spinning the facts. Coming as close as we can to lying without going over. Going ahead and lying if that’s what we need to do to get the job done. But at the end of the day, I guess I don’t want to lie about that. I don’t want to lie to myself, about myself.”
He took a sip of wine. The cheap gold band she’d given him glowed on his finger in the soft light. She marveled all over again at how he could look so masculine and elegant simultaneously. But what she saw was what she got: a professional, an elitist, with his priorities in all the wrong places, but at heart a genuinely kind man.
She prompted him, “You’re still awfully quiet for a quiet guy.”
He smiled grimly. “You’ve made me feel worse.”
“Don’t. I could have said no.” She reached forward and covered his hand with hers. “Anyway, to me, the real beauty of a wedding isn’t the dress or the flowers or the chapel or Elvis. It’s finding the right person to be with, and—”
He broke in, “I already have.”
She flushed with warmth. “I was about to say the same thing.”
He looked at their hands on the table for a moment, then looked up at her. He held her gaze for so long that her skin tingled with anticipation. She knew exactly what he meant by that look, and what he wanted.
However, because he was Daniel, he asked politely, “Would you like dessert?”
“Yes, I would,” she said with gusto. “If you know what I mean.”
He gaped at her in outrage but couldn’t hold the expression when he was overtaken by a laughing fit. He held up one finger and the check suddenly appeared in front of him. As he took out his wallet, he said under his breath, “This night is going to be even better than I thought.”
* * *
He shut the door of their room behind them. The lamps were off. The only light was the neon in the panoramic view of the casinos across the street. She watched his body move in that soft glow as he turned the dead bolt. They were locked in together.
He turned and stopped, seeming surprised that she was watching him. The vague light softened his features but highlighted his cheekbones and the perfect arch of his brow, like a stylized sculpture of a man rather than the real thing. His eyes were so dark that in the shadows, she could only tell he was looking at her by the reflection of the window, a light in his eye that disappeared momentarily when he blinked.
The silence stretched into awkwardness. She wanted to tell him that he might be racking his brain for something to say in the uncomfortable silence, but she was not. She was content to pause in this rare, magical space between one stage of their relationship and the next, taking in how handsome he was, and how lucky she was that he had ever kissed her.
His lips parted. He took a slow breath to speak. She was afraid he would say he’d changed his mind. They’d gotten married for work, and now they should go their separate ways.
To prevent those words from crossing his lips, she spoke up so suddenly that he blinked again. “My friends will die when I tell them we waited until we got married to have sex.”
He threw back his head and laughed. Then tried to stop himself from laughing and couldn’t, holding his side and choking a little.
She loved to watch him laugh. It happened so rarely, and this was the longest she’d seen his laughter go on. To prolong it a bit more, she added, “I don’t know about you, but saving myself for marriage is somewhat out of character for me.”
Still laughing, he placed one hand on the wall behind her and leaned in, so close that she caught a whiff of his cologne. She suppressed a shudder at the chill that raced through her.
He said, “I’m glad you wanted to be pure for me.”
Now Wendy cracked up. Through her giggles, she said, “Sorry. I haven’t been pure since I was fifteen. And if my virginal status in the marriage bed is important to you, we should never discuss my sophomore year in college. Also, 2009.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” he said in a sexy rumble. Still bracing himself on the wall above her with one hand, he used the other hand to stroke a lock of hair that framed her face. “But that’s okay. I like my women experienced.”
Her snort of laughter was cut short as he kissed her.
He held her in place while he explored her mouth, his tongue delving deep, his teeth nipping at her lips. His hand slid seductively down her neck, pressed her breast underneath her silk blouse, and sneaked past the waistband of her trousers to stroke her through her panties. This time she didn’t mind that he could feel how wet she was.
He removed his hands from her and stood up straight.
She opened her eyes, blinking at him in the darkness. She’d made a joke out of sex before, but she was past that stage now, and if he tried to get out of it, she was going to be angry. “Why’d you stop?” she whispered.
“We’re married now,” he growled, “and I’m a gentleman. I’m not going to spend our wedding night fucking you against the wall.”
“Really?” she asked, letting him hear her disappointment. “Are you ever going to fuck me against the wall? Because that gentleman thing is overrated in my opinion.”
“Later in our marriage,” he promised her. “When we’re older, and we plan a rare escape, trying to recapture the youthful exuberance we used to have in our relationship.”
“Oh.” That sucked. This whole joke sucked.
“Like, tomorrow.” He led her over to the bed. The stripes of moonlight and colored light rippled over his features as he moved. He stopped her at the foot of the bed and gently pushed her suit jacket off her shoulders. “Turn around and let me unzip you,” he said.
She faced the dresser with the mirror above it. Her ponytail was intact so far, her figure looking pretty good in suit pants she’d had made on a trip to Hong Kong. The dark figure of Daniel stood over her, watching her in the mirror, then focusing on the catch at the back of her neck. She felt it unfasten and the zipper move down her back, and she shuddered.
Still watching her, he unclasped her bra, then moved his hands beneath her clothes, brushing along her skin. In the mirror she could see his hands skimming her body, moving around to her front, just as she felt her breasts tingling with his touch. His fingers thumbed her nipples until a gasp escaped her lips.
And then his mouth was on her neck, making all her senses go wild. She couldn’t get enough air as she lowered her chi
n to give him better access to the back of her neck. Just as she thought she couldn’t stand any more, he moved her blouse and bra together off her arms and down her body, letting the garments pool on the floor. He nudged her pants down her hips. She stood in front of the mirror in nothing but her panties and high heels.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered. “I can hardly believe you’re mine.” He slipped one hand from her breast down her side, along her hip, to cover her panties with his warmth. His fingers explored downward.
Suddenly his hand stopped, and his eyes widened at her in the mirror. He growled, “Are these crotchless panties?”
“Maybe.”
“Did you bring these with you to Vegas from New York, like you knew you would need them?”
She’d bought them in another mad dash through the mall that afternoon. She should have brought some from home, because just when she didn’t bring them, she needed them. They were like the bunny ears and clip-on tail in that regard. But Daniel seemed outraged, and she found this funny. So she only pointed out, “You brought latex gloves.”
He continued to stare at her.
“I thought I might get married while I was here,” she said, “and then I would need them.”
“We will talk about this later.”
“Really? Will you punish me?”
“Definitely.”
“Will you spank me?”
“I think the punishment should fit the crime, don’t you?” He pushed his fingers inside her.
She arched her back, allowing his fingers to shove deeper. Her ass rubbed against the front of his pants, and she found out how hard he was for her. She felt coiled and tight, ready to spring.
Finally she turned to face him and started to unbutton his shirt from the top. He unbuttoned from the bottom and they met in the middle, his fingers still slick from being inside her. She moved the sides of his shirt away and slid the sleeves down his arms and off him, letting the carefully tailored garment crumple to the floor and wondering whether this was bothering him right now. It didn’t seem to bother him. Before she’d even had time to run her hands across his solid muscles, so beautiful in the moonlight, he’d bent his head to suckle her breast.
It was hard for her to concentrate while she endured such pleasure, but she managed to reach forward and fumble with his belt buckle, then the catch of his suit pants and his zipper. She tried to push everything down together. He raised his head and took over for her, kicking off his shoes and disrobing completely. He sat down on the bed, gorgeous in the moonlight like a marble statue, the planes of his muscles shining in contrast with the dark shadows between them.
She didn’t want to ruin the mood by bringing this up, but she had to. “I’m on the pill, but do you have a—”
As she said this, he was already reaching for his pants. He pulled out his wallet and unfolded it to find a condom. He looked into her eyes and paused a moment, as if he understood what she was thinking. It was so strange that she was on the pill, protected from pregnancy, yet they were still using a condom like they hardly knew each other, like this was sex with a near stranger. Which it was.
Except that they were married.
The moment passed. He sheathed himself. Before she could step away or think of a joke, he was pulling her by the wrists toward him, then by the buttocks, pressing her center down on his erect cock. He brought her down on him so far that it took her breath away. He urged her to impale herself on him over and over, until she was boneless with want.
He lifted her off him and stood up. Then he turned her around and pressed her down until her head was on the bed, her ponytail spilling across the covers. Her ass was thrust in the air, higher than it should have been courtesy of her high heels, waiting for him. He ran his fingers up and down her crease, moving her slickness around, and then once more inserted himself through the hole in her panties, finding her center and then shoving himself all the way inside her at once, making her cry out.
“Touch yourself,” he whispered.
Obediently she lowered one shoulder to the bed to brace herself while she reached back with the other hand to finger her clit. Her whole sex immediately clenched around him. He cursed and grasped her by both hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he thrust himself into her harder and faster.
She lost herself, spiraling out of control under her hand as she came. His dick pounded inside her until, with a final groan, he found his own release.
Panting into her shoulder, he stroked her a few more times before easing down onto the bed, cradling her body against his.
She took a few deep, satisfied breaths. Finally she said, “Well, that’ll leave a mark.”
He eased a possessive hand over her bruised hip.
They lay together for a few quiet minutes. Wendy got lost in them. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the sensations: the warmth of his body all along hers, the tingles that still ran up and down her arms, the shakiness she felt deep inside.
He murmured, “You’re uncharacteristically quiet, even for a quiet person.”
She snorted. “I just got my brains fucked out. Give me a minute.”
He rolled away from her, off the bed. She bounced a little at the sudden shift of his weight. “I’ll give you five.” He smacked her ass.
“Oh, it’s going to be like that, is it?” Her mouth was still full of sass, but her body didn’t have the energy to back it up. She watched, motionless, as he walked toward the bathroom, exquisitely naked.
He turned suddenly. “Do you need your hair washed?”
“You enjoyed that?”
“Yes,” he said immediately.
“I washed it this morning. I managed with just two hands. Apparently I only need help when I’m hurt and pitiful.”
He made it back to the bed in two long strides. His muscular arms held him hovering above her as he growled, “You have never been pitiful in your life.”
He kissed her. Both hands cradled her head and held her steady while his tongue swept inside her mouth, possessing her totally. With a final peck on the lips, he lifted himself from her and closed himself in the bathroom.
She hugged herself on the bed, her body awash in the afterglow, her mind for once a decadent blank.
* * *
When he stepped back into the bedroom in a cloud of steam, she was still huddled on the bed in exactly the same position as when he’d left her. As he’d figured, he was hard for her again already. If she’d fallen asleep, he was going to explode.
But as he moved closer, she turned her head to look up at him. “I guess you’ve come for that favor I offered you yesterday.”
He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. “Yes.”
She slid onto the floor and walked on her knees until she was directly in front of him. He reached to the back of her head and carefully pulled out the band holding her ponytail. Her curls spilled past her shoulders, covering her breasts. Only her nipples peeked out.
“You are beautiful,” he told her reverently. “You have always been beautiful. I’ve wanted you since college.”
She looked up at him through long lashes. “What are you really saying? You thought about me while you masturbated?”
He laughed shortly. “That might have happened, but for the record, we are neither confirming nor denying.”
He took in a sharp breath as she reached for him. Exhaled again in a huff as she wrapped her hand around his dick.
“Did it feel like this?” she asked, watching him.
He shook his head. “No, this is better.”
He ached with pleasure as she massaged him slowly, her hands moving up and down his erect shaft. Finally she scooted forward until her lips nearly touched the tip of him. Looking up at him, she asked, “Is this what you wanted when you masturbated? Is this what you pictured when you came?”
“Yes,” he said, one syllable that transformed into a gasp as she put out her tongue to taste him.
“You know,” she said casually, as if he c
ouldn’t feel her warm breath on his cock, “Sarah and Tom told me yesterday that I do anything you tell me without complaining. They seem to think you have some kind of power over me.”
“Let’s see.” He placed one hand under her chin and gently guided her forward.
He loved how she looked as she sucked him, her thick hair brushed back over her shoulders so he could see her face. One long tendril, dark with dampness, snaked down her forehead and stuck to her cheek.
On a sigh at a particularly intense stroke of her tongue, he commented, “Don’t worry. This won’t take long.”
She managed to remove her lips from him before she bent her head in a fit of coughing and laughing. When she’d collected herself, she looked up at him and grinned. “Don’t make me laugh when your dick is in my mouth.”
“Sorry.”
“Injuries.” She opened her mouth wide and took him inside her.
As she kneeled at his feet and sucked his cock greedily, he flashed back to two nights before, when he’d watched her pole dance for him, all tease and no strip. This woman had been bullied, but she still found the strength to give him freely what another man had coerced from her. Daniel took it gratefully. She stroked and circled his member with her tongue, and he groaned with pleasure.
When he wove his fingers into her hair so that she couldn’t have backed away if she tried, she opened wider for him and sucked him more eagerly. She was only playacting at being his submissive lover, he knew, but she seemed to be enjoying every second. He felt the same way.
Of course, they weren’t really playacting, were they? Because his dick really was shoved into her mouth. The more his misgivings compounded, the more she tightened her lips around him. He responded with deeper thrusts until he suddenly cursed and released himself down her throat.
Still panting, he placed his fingertips underneath her chin and tilted her face up until she met his gaze. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, out of breath herself.
He stood and reached down to help her up, then pulled her onto the bed and under the covers with him. Half asleep already, he rolled on top of her and kissed her long on the mouth. The way their bodies craved each other, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he rose into her again.
Star Crossed Page 24
