Jackson shakes his head, and his curly blonde hair falls into his eyes. He pushes it back and grins at her—the expression is charming, almost boyish. She looks down at his bare chest and watches as his ab muscles ripple and flex. He’s wearing nothing but his underwear, and the erection straining against the fabric is all man.
He takes her wrists in his hands and undoes the knot with expert fingers. Then he bends down and unties her ankles. She flips onto her back and flexes her feet and hands as the blood rushes back. He lays back on the bed and watches her through lazy, half-lidded eyes.
“Let’s try something new this time,” she says, grabbing the black blindfold. “I’ve had many lessons here, and I want to see if I’ve been a good student.”
She reaches for his face, stroking his brow bone with her fingertip. He sighs and closes his eyes, and she dr.a.p.es the fabric across his eyelids. His hand shoots into the air, and he grabs her wrist.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I’m trying to please you,” she says.
“And just how are you going to do that?” he asks.
“That’s part of the surprise,” she says.
She leans forward and nuzzles his face like a kitten, and he loosens his grip on her wrist. She ties the blindfold in a knot behind his head and runs her nails lightly across his scalp. He bites his lip and reaches for her, but she dodges him. She kisses his neck and then moves her mouth down to his chest, sliding her lips from his hard tanned pecs to his abs. She stops just above the waistband of his underwear and his groans.
“Stop teasing,” he says.
“Only when I’m ready,” she whispers.
The teachers taught her to drag it out, to make the man crazy with desire first, but she feels herself losing patience. There’s a fire burning in her middle, and it’s making her blood boil. She straddles him and presses her bare chest against his, enjoying the warmth between their bodies. Then she lifts herself up, yanks his underwear off, and slowly slides down until he’s completely inside her.
She circles her h.i.p.s, and a breathy m.o.a.n escaped her lips. His hands fumble through the air and land on her b.r.e.a.s.ts, and he squeezes and pinches them in time with her grinding. The pleasure builds inside her, becoming unbearable, and then she explodes. His grip tightens, and his body goes rigid as he finishes inside her.
He pulls the blindfold off with one hand and looks up at her. His eyes flash, and in an instant, he grabs her by the shoulders, pushes her to the bed and lands on top of her. She can feel him growing excited again.
“So, how did you like it?” she asks.
“I’d say you’ve been a very good student,” he says.
“I’m glad I made you happy,” she says, feeling a rush of joy at his praise. She flutters her eyelashes and adds, “I hope you’ll consider adding a generous tip when you pay me tonight.”
“I’ll pay you what you’re worth,” he says. “More too, if it means you won’t serve any other men. I don’t like to share.”
Jackson stands and picks his underwear up off the floor. She slides under the wrinkled duvet and pulls the silk blanket up to her chin, watching him as he dresses. His long legs, leanly muscled torso, and powerful arms make her want to leap out of bed and wrap herself around him. He looks like an ancient statue come to life.
He finishes dressing and walks toward the door. Something in her chest aches, and she shakes her head against the soft pillow, trying to get rid of the mushy thoughts she’s having.
“Wait,” she says.
His hand hovers over the doorknob, and he turns to look at her.
“It was good to see you,” she whispers, feeling her cheeks flush pink.
He smiles and opens the door.
Robert slaps a thick doc.u.ment onto Waylen’s desk. Waylen finishes signing his name on the current business contract and takes a look at the new packet. The first page looks like a company equity transfer. He flips it open, wondering which company is being transferred. The name feels like a punch to the gut—the Zuri Hotel, Leilani’s hotel.
“Miss Peters sent this over and asked you to have a look,” Robert says. “She said she wanted you to have the first chance at it. But if you’re not interested, she warned me she’d transfer it to others who are.”
“How much money does she want for it?” Waylen asks.
“Two hundred million,” Robert answers.
“Two hundred million?” Waylen asks. “It’s barely worth twenty million, and she knows that.”
Robert shrugs and asks, “What would you like me to do?”
“Make an appointment with her,” Waylen says. “I want to know why she needs two hundred million dollars.”
The private dressing room at the bridal store is just as lavish as the store itself. White tulle curtains hang on the walls, and a tiered, crystal chandelier glitters overhead. Hair Stylists, makeup artists, and tailors wait with their blow dryers, makeup brushes, and pins.
Leilani sinks into the styling chair and lets her long, chestnut hair fall down her back. The stylist weighs it in his hands and twists it around his fingers. He piles it on top of her head and then lets it fall down again.
“I have the perfect style for you,” he says. “Something understated and simple that will show off your gorgeous neck.”
She nods and closes her eyes. Ever since the kidnapping two days ago, she hasn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours. Between the pregnancy, the stress of the wedding, and Andrew’s constant presence, she feels exhausted. She takes a deep breath and lets her body relax as the stylist arranges her hair.
The buzzing hair dryer and soft whispers of the stylists fade away, and loud wailing sirens fill the air. She looks around and sees the dank, moldy warehouse. The chains hanging from the ceiling start to stretch towards her, and she screams and screams until a man in a black mask slaps her across the face.
“This is your ex-husband’s fault,” the man shouts. “He shouldn’t have called the police.”
“No, it’s her fault,” another man says. “She must have done something awful to make her ex hate her this much.”
Flashing blue and red lights appear, and the men run away. She listens as their footsteps fade. The sirens go silent, and she hears the steady drip of dirty rainwater. The dripping sound changes, becoming the ticking of a time bomb—she screams, and the bomb explodes, ripping through her body with searing pain.
She wakes up in the salon chair, gasping for breath. Her hands are clenched into fists at her sides, and her forehead is covered in sweat. Her neck prickles, and she worries she’s been screaming again. It’s the same dream she has every time she falls asleep. She takes a deep breath and uncurls her fists.
I still don’t understand why he called the police, she thinks. Two hundred million is nothing to him. Why would he take the call and ask for so much information if he never meant to pay the ransom at all? What changed his mind? Hell, as soon as Andrew knew what happened, he was happy I’d used his money. He doesn’t even want me to repay him.
“Miss Peters, are you okay?” the stylist asks. “You look like you’re in pain. Is the ponytail too tight? I can try to loosen it a bit.”
“Huh?” Leilani asks. “I mean, no, I’m fine. I’m just a little tired. Do you think we can keep the photoshoot short?”
The stylist smiles and says, “Probably not. Most brides spend several hours getting ready and several hours posing for the photos. You’ll probably be here all day.”
She sighs and lets the stylist lead her to the dressing area. A tailor and two assistants help Leilani pull the elegant white dress over her head. They do the zipper and walk in a slow circle, looking for last-minute alterations.
“Is Andrew here yet?” Leilani asks.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
Leave a Reply