Standing there, feeling thoroughly fucked, all I wanted to do was unravel.
It was the only explanation for why I rucked up my wedding gown again and pushed my best friend to her knees. Hunter didn’t fight or question what I wanted as I desperately straddled her face without a word. She simply watched me with possession in her eyes as her tongue darted out and began lashing my sensitive pussy. The mirrors all around us made it impossible for us to hide from the lines we were blurring once more, but that was okay because I was done denying myself what I wanted.
Instead, I reveled in the sight of how we looked together.
Hunter dressed to kill with my pussy in her mouth. And me, dressed to offer my hand in marriage to the man who had stamped his ownership over it. I was very much aware that Ocean wouldn’t like me disobeying him, but I couldn’t bring myself to care as I swiveled my hips and rode my best friend’s face.
With tears streaming down my face, I stared at the scandalous vision we made as Hunter moaned and licked me into a third orgasm. I was still mid-scream—muffled by my own hand over my mouth—when I heard a polite knock on the wall next to the dressing room and then the bridal stylist’s high-pitched voice penetrating my post-orgasmic bliss.
“Um, sorry to bother you. Mrs. Kilpatrick had to step out, butMr.Kilpatrick is waiting for you in the lobby.” There was a pause and then. “He’d like to speak to you both.”
The stylist’s footsteps quickly hurried away.
“Shit,” I swore as Hunter’s head popped from underneath my dress. “Do you think they heard us?” Hunter’s face was blank as she gave a careless shrug. “Shit!” I cursed again. “Ocean can’t see me in my wedding dress.” Assuming there would even be a wedding after this. “Help me.”
I turned around to face the wall.
I waited several agonizing moments before Hunter stepped forward and helped me.
The gown fell to the floor with a heavy thud, and I quickly redressed in the clothes I came in. Before we left the dressing room, though, I couldn’t resist kissing Hunter one last time, tasting myself on her lips that were still glistening with my juices.
“I love you,” I whispered.
It wasn’t the first time I’d told her so, but it was the first time I’d meant it as anything but a friend. I didn’t give her time to reject me before I hurried out of the dressing room.
Hunter fell three steps behind me like Abel had reminded her before we left Glamis this morning. I was careful not to meet any of the stylists’ and seamstresses’ eyes just in case they’d heard us. It was eerily quiet in the boutique, adding to my nervousness, and I realized why when Hunter and I reached the lobby.
A tree-trunk of a man in an expensive suit towered by the door with two armed men guarding it, but it wasn’t Ocean waiting for us as we expected.
It was Malcolm Kilpatrick.
Ocean’s father.
HUNTER
“My apologies for the interruption,” the Boss of theFolagreeted as he regarded Coby. “But considering what my son has been planning right under my nose, I’m afraid it just couldn’t wait.”
He smiled, and I stretched my fingers toward my gun.
It was my first time being in the same room with Malcolm Kilpatrick, but Coby had already warned me that he and Ocean were not on good terms. That was putting it lightly. It made me question why we were living in the man’s house if he was such a threat to us—that is, until I caught on to what Ocean was doing. And why he’s been so busy the last couple of weeks.
He was seizing the throne while his father was away.
Marrying Coby was just insurance—to make sure the rest of his family didn’t have a reason to challenge him once he was Boss.
It would have been the perfect plan if Malcolm hadn’t caught wind of it.
He glowered at Coby now like she was the ruin of his kingdom, and I wondered how mad Ocean would be if I shot his father in the face.
“If you’re done here,” Malcom said in a polite tone that I didn’t buy for a moment, “I’d like to escort you back to my home so I can have a chat with my son.”
“I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to get in the car with strangers,” Coby said with equally false sweetness. I swallowed my snort.
Malcolm clearly didn’t find Coby as funny and clever as I did because his polite expression darkened with displeasure.
I didn’t care if it was wise to threaten the mafia don. I unholstered my gun.
Malcom’s men did the same.
