“Bring me another one, please,” I say, knowing I’ll need several tonight.
TWENTY-SEVEN
LAIKYN
When he walks in, I’m standing in front of the mirror about to apply my mascara.
I pause, straightening my back, and turn to face him. He’s leaning up against the doorframe to the bathroom. One hand is shoved into the pocket of his slacks; the other holds a glass with nothing but ice left in it. He’s already finished the drink.
He’s dressed in a three-piece suit; every inch is black, even the silk tie. His blue eyes are on mine, and it makes me squirm, wondering what he’s thinking.
“Did you pick out a dress?” he asks, his voice sounding on edge.
“Yes,” I answer softly. Unsure. I hate that I hope he likes it. I feel like him giving me the choice was a test. And I’m afraid to fail. I had way more than afewoptions to pick from. They brought an entire store to the house full of designer dresses and heels.
Pushing off the doorframe, he walks over to me, and my pulse starts to race, knowing he’s in here to do something to me. He’s already told me tonight is a big event—our first public appearance as husband and wife. I can only imagine what he’s got planned for me before we leave this house. My body tingles in anticipation.
“There’s no reason to be nervous, Lake,” he says, noticing the change in my breathing.
I swallow and lie. “I’m not.”
A smirk plays across his lips. “So you’re saying you’re this worked up over nothing?” He arches a brow.
No reason to lie again, so I don’t respond.
Reaching out, he unties the sash holding up my robe. I didn’t want to put clothes on, fix my hair and makeup, then mess it up getting undressed. That’s what I tell myself anyway. In the back of my mind, I was screaming easy access in case he came and fucked me beforehand.
He gently pushes the soft, fluffy material off my shoulders and it falls to my feet. Once again, I stand naked before him while he’s fully clothed, and I wish he’d get undressed.
His fingers run down my heaving chest, and the metal from his rings makes me shiver when they run over my breast.
“Gorgeous,” he whispers, and it makes my breath catch and butterflies flutter in my stomach. He’s such a good liar. And I’m the dumb bitch who believes it. Luke made me get my boobs done, but he hated them. Said they were too small. That he should have made them go bigger. I weighed a hundred and ten pounds and was a small A. I’d say a full D is damn well big enough on my body size.
The tip of his finger lazily circles my nipple. My eyes lift to his and he grips it, pulling me into him, and I gasp at the pinch. The moment my body knocks into his, his hands lower to my ass, his fingers dig into my hot skin, and he picks me up, setting me on the countertop where I was just doing my makeup.
I open my legs, wrapping them around his hips and pull him into me without thought as he stands in front of me.
My mind has been racing about what William told me.“Mr. Crawford isn’t a bad man. He’s just the type who does whatever needs to be done.
He felt the need to marry me. Why can’t I enjoy it? Because it will end in a fiery crash. We’re not meant to be together forever. My father will see to it.
He lowers his head to my breast, and I lean my head back against the cold mirror when his lips wrap around my nipple. He sucks on it, softly, tenderly.
“Please,” I beg, my fingers gripping his dark hair. I’m rough and needy, my body is already prepared for this. I’ve been getting ready for the last two hours just waiting for him to come find me. I’ve got myself all worked up about it.
Letting go, he does the same thing to the other.
I’m panting, my pussy throbbing.
He pulls away, and my legs sag off the side of the counter. Still standing between them, he reaches into his empty glass and picks up a piece of ice, rubbing it over my nipple. I gasp at the coldness. It’s melting so fast the water runs down my stomach and between my legs. And then he does it to the other.
Leaning over, he gently blows on them, and I arch my back. My hands grip his suit jacket, needing more. Reaching into his pocket, he removes what looks like clear cylinders with black handles on the end.
“Lick it,” he orders, bringing one up to my lips.
I do so without thought. I run my tongue along the outer edge of the small circle and even close my lips around it.
His eyes darken, and his free hand grips my thigh. When he pulls it free of my mouth, there’s a thin line of drool that falls on my chin. Lowering the device to my breast, he presses it to my skin, covering my nipple, and starts to twist the dial on the end. I cry out when it begins to suck my nipple into the cylinder.
