A Mess of a Man (Cruel & Beautiful #2)(110)

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nod. “I should be asking you. It’s your moment.”

He stares at me with good humor on his face before he claps me on the back. “You’re on.”

I watch as Cate, pretty as can be, turns and gives her back to a gaggle of women. It’s almost scary the fierce expression they give one another as if this moment could win them the key to life. These are the times I’m grateful I’m a guy.

“One, two, three,” Cate calls out before launching her bouquet over her head. She spins around to watch what happens next.

As the surreal event unfolds, I swallow wondering if a catfight will break out. Once I might have relished that prospect, but my Sam stands in the middle. The idea of her getting hurt makes me want to leap in the fray and tell all the other women to back the f*ck up.

But as if the man-hungry group is the Red Sea, they part and the bouquet arcs beautifully to land into Sam’s awaiting hands as if by destiny. Only it wasn’t destiny, but by design.

She glances around unsure of what’s going on. I get a few more reassuring pats as I step towards her. The music has stopped. But the sound of my blood racing through my veins mutes everything around me. Lights flash and I wonder if Sam has figured it out yet. When I reach her, she still looks confused. But in a second, it will all become clear.

“Samantha, you are the breath that fills my lungs. You are the blood that rushes through my veins. Without you, I would cease to exist. Knowing you’re mine isn’t enough anymore.”

She covers her mouth as I bend down on one knee and gaze up at her radiant face. I see the shine in her eyes as the puzzle of what I’m about to do pieces together for her.

“I want to give you my name… the keys to my house… my car, my boat. Whatever it takes for you to agree to be my wife.” I wait a beat. “It’s kind of time for you to say something, sweetheart,” I beg.

Her hand comes down and she pushes my hair back. Her grin lights up the room and she knows that she has my number. And I don’t care.

“Well?” I ask, taking my first breath and hoping it won’t be my last. Because if she denies me, I won’t have the heart to go on.

“You need to ask me first.”

I blink. “Oh, right.”

The sounds of laughter all around us rushes into my ears, but I ignore it. I take a deep breath.

I reach in my pocket with steady hands because there’s no doubt in my mind she’s the one. I pull out the box and open it before I say the words I’ve wanted to say since she took me back. I’d wanted to give her time, time to forget and see my actions as true.

“Samantha Calhoun, will you do me the greatest honor and become my wife?”

She nods and I take quick notice of her family and friends. Cate and Mercer agreed to it all and helped with the plan. The time for Sam’s parents, sister, and best friends to show up had been given so that they could witness this moment. The hard part had been when I faced her family in secret weeks before to ask them if I could marry her. Her mom had been quick to hug me with happy tears. On the other hand, I got an uncomfortable speech from her father and made promises under penalty of castration to her sister before they agreed. It was worth it because having them here at this moment is important to my soon-to-be bride.

Her face is more beautiful than a painting as her smile etches in my heart. When she says the words, it relieves the pressure on my lungs.

“Yes, I will. I thought you would never ask.”





A Little Over A Year Later



I lift my bride-to-be in my arms. “Sit here,” I demand.

She nods, used to my moods and knowing just what I need. I head upstairs and grab several things from my drawers. When I come back, she’s sitting, waiting, and doesn’t that make my dick want to punch through my pants.

“Do you trust me?”

Her answer is quick and always the same with a nod of her head in the affirmative. I draw her to her feet and take reverent care to strip her of all her clothing. The sight of her pink cheeks only stiffens my cock further. Her embarrassment when I get this way only makes me want to tattoo the word mine across her chest.

“I want to do something. Something we’ve never done before,” I say.

Her silent acquiescence continues to stir the heat between us. I’ve brought a myriad of items I can use with my lack of having the right tools for this little endeavor. I settle on a pair of brand new cashmere socks. I think they would cause the least discomfort. Goosebumps rise on her skin when I hold them up to her. I walk around her admiring the view of her curves before settling behind her. She remains still, ready for whatever game I want to play. I gently draw her hands behind her. Then I use one long sock to bind her hands together. It’s not tight enough that she couldn’t get loose if she wanted to. That’s not what this is all about. When I stand before her again, she’s taken by surprise when I begin to blindfold her with the other long sock.

After I admire my handiwork, I guide her back down onto the sofa. I place her to sit as comfortably as she can with her arms bound behind her. This isn’t a bondage thing so much as I want to take away her ability to touch me or control the situation. Her loss of those should heighten her pleasure.

“Am I the only one that’s going to be naked?” she asks quietly.