Falling In (Taking the Fall #4)(14)
“You forget it’s my birthday too, princess.” I smile and keep sliding against her. I know she wants to cum, and she’s so close, but I’ve got the patience of a saint and I intend to use it to my advantage.
“I told you I would three years ago!”
“But you wouldn’t let me tell your dad, so it didn’t count. I want you to agree to be my wife, wear my ring, and tell the world. I’m not keeping it secret. I’m not ashamed of you or of us, or afraid of what your parents will think.”
Mary moans and grinds down harder on me. “I’m not ashamed; I just don’t want my dad thinking we have sex. Can you imagine?”
I stop my movements and look down at her. Her bright, beautiful red hair, perfect skin, and curves that make my teeth sweat. She’s mine, always has been, and always will be. She just needs a little motivation to agree with me.
“Do you love me, princess?”
“You know I do,” she says, and a blush creeps across her cheeks.
I lean down and suck her nipple hard, and then let it out with a pop. She moans and tries to work her wet * against me again. I grab her hips to stop her movement and I make her look at me.
“You’re going to be my wife, Mary,” I say, and look sternly into her eyes. She looks up at me seriously and touches my face. She slowly nods at me and whispers, “yes”.
“Tomorrow, you’re going to put on my ring and we’re going to tell your parents, aren’t we?”
She slowly nods again and she whispers, “Yes.”
“Good. It’s about goddamn time,” I say, and attack her mouth.
God help me, I’m going to have to tell Carter I’m marrying his daughter. Well, at least I get to make love to her before he murders me
Sneak Peek of
VIRGIN DUET
Rage bubbled inside me as I looked at the imposing double doors of his office. They reached all the way to the high ceiling, and looked like you’d have to use all your weight to push them open. On the other side was an arrogant *. If you pushed the doors open he would probably be sitting behind a giant desk, or maybe on a throne like a king. I guess he’s king of this building. He owns it after all. Mr. Vanilla as I like to call him, just to piss him off. I work in the coffee shop downstairs in the building’s lobby. Well, I did until about fifteen minutes ago. I know he’s the reason for my quick termination today.
No way was I going back to the shelter. The coffee shop job barely afforded me enough money for the pay-by-the-week hotel my older brother and I were staying at. We'd been there for the past few months. Anything beat staying at the shelter, but even one week without a job will force me back.
“Is that * boss of yours in there?” I snap at the woman sitting at her desk in front of those doors.
Jerking her head up, she looks at me in shock, but her face quickly turns to disgust. Of course he has a perfect little assistant sitting outside his office. Sun-streaked blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, crystal blue eyes with thin black-framed glasses, and a low-cut blouse. Very low-cut. She looks like she could do the whole sexy librarian turned seductress thing at any moment. Maybe that’s what she does.
I can tell from the scrunch of her nose she finds me repulsive. I’m her polar opposite in every way. We might both have blonde hair but it clearly ends there. My blonde might be a brighter shade than hers, but mine is also streaked with pink and purple. The dye seems to make my eyes appear purpler than they really are. I can see her long legs under her desk with shoes that probably cost what I make in three months. If she stood up, I’m sure she would tower over my five three height. My black military-style lace-up boots give me no extra height. She’s thin and I can tell she puts time into maintaining herself. Total opposites.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she squeaks at me in a voice that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. She reaches for her desk phone, I’m sure to call security, because I am, after all, half naked. I’m dressed only in a bra, black pants and my boots. No way was I letting that dipshit downstairs take fifty dollars out of my last check for my uniform, and I have no plans of ever seeing his face again. He had the balls, after firing me, to suggest I drop to my knees and he would pay me for other services if I needed the money so bad. When I started to unbutton my top the little f*cker thought he was getting what he wanted. All he really got was my shirt and apron thrown at him. And a black eye. I can still feel the light sting on my knuckles from the punch. Oh, yeah, his eye was going to be a nice black and purple come morning. Growing up in foster care, I learned how to throw a mean punch.
Seeing that my time has now become limited, I walk past her and push open both doors.
“Cindy I told you—” his words cut off when he looks up and sees me. Jaw clenching, nose flaring as he takes in my attire, or lack thereof. Today, like every day, he’s wearing a three-piece suit, which is the same grey as his eyes. He’s always so neatly put together. Even his stupid handsome face is all straight, perfect lines. Every time he would come into the coffee shop I wanted to mess him up. I always wanted to run my fingers through his hair and give him that freshly f*cked look. I thought about rubbing my lips across his neck, leaving a smudge of my lip gloss there so he didn’t look so perfect. The first time he came in, he gave me a half smile and ordered a plain black coffee. No cream or sugar. Not even a flavor. Seems that’s how he likes everything. Every day he would come in and get his coffee and engage me in a little bit of conversation. I looked forward to seeing him. He was different than the other suits. Most either treated me like I could be a quick f*ck for them or gave me a look of distaste.