Page 15 of Professional Liar
“I…I’m sorry. I won’t threaten it again.”
“I’m sorry too. I’ll make sure to include you if a situation involves Bianca.”
She nodded, and I helped her back to her feet. Free of the anger, I gazed down the line of her body. The corset made her impossibly small waist even narrower, and accentuated the wide curve of her hips.
She skimmed her hands down her body. “Do you like it?”
I could only nod, my mouth dry now.
“Good, help me out of it. This thing is so uncomfortable. I feel like I haven’t drawn a full breath all day.”
She turned, and I unlaced the ribbon carefully. Once the fabric sagged around her waist, she took over and pulled it free. Red lines marked a shadow of the corset on her skin.
I dragged her into me and rubbed the pink lines gently to ease some of the harsh lines indented there. “Are you okay?”
She reached out and untied my bowtie. “Don’t worry. They’ll go away. And don’t think I’m not angry over you deciding to bring us back here. I am keeping my penthouse.”
I held up my hands in surrender as she started on the line of buttons down my dress shirt. “I never said you had to give it up.”
“And you aren’t going too—“
I cut her off with my lips. Nothing more than a quick kiss and retreat. “I will keep doing that if it will get you to stop fucking talking.”
She swallowed loudly and remained silent. I rewarded her with a deeper kiss. Her hair still sat expertly twisted in coils on her head, so I softly clutched my fingers around the base of her neck to deepen it. She tasted like icing and champagne and the chocolate cake I didn’t smash in her face. I coaxed her into my arms with my tongue in her mouth and my free hand wrapped around the back of her rib cage.
When I ended the kiss, her eyes were glazed and her rigid shoulders sagged. This is how I wanted her. Sated and awake. With zero chance to doubt her choice in me.
Her hand trailed down my undershirt to the hard on pressed against the zipper of my slacks. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” she said.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
I shrugged out of the jacket and dress shirt while she worked my belt buckle, until thousands of dollars of fabric lay in a wrinkled mess on the floor. I scooped her up again and places her on the edge of the couch.
When I pressed her knees apart and shifted between them, she leaned back. “What are you going to do?”
I licked my lips and clasped my fingers around the top of her sheer stockings. Rolling them down her thigh and then knee and calf swiftly morphed into an exercise of restraint. I could smell her soap and sweat, and I wanted her so bad, my cock breached the top of my black boxer briefs.
She shifted her legs wider and tipped her other knee against my hip as I started on the opposite side. Once she sat in only her panties, I reached out and yanked her hips forward. “It’s our wedding night, Mrs. St. James. What does tradition dictate?”
She snorted and dropped her head back to lean into the couch again. I traced the edge of her panties with my pinky finger, the white lace separating me from everything I wanted right now. Needed right now. “If either of us were virgins, I’d suspect that would be the next step. But that boat sailed many years ago.”
I laughed. “I know. I pushed that bitch out of the harbor, and I enjoyed every second of watching your first orgasm play across your face.”
Her lips spread wide, and she yawned.
“Nope.” I slapped her thigh. “How about a drink?”
“So you can take advantage of me?” she asked and grinned again. Something felt right about this. Her naked in my hands and home. All the walls and games fallen away. I wondered what the rest of our lives would be like without them.
I bit the inside of her thigh, and she yelped and smacked my ear. “What the hell?”
I kissed the red mark. “You were falling asleep. I asked you if you wanted a drink?”
“No. I want your mouth on me.”
I shifted up on my knees. She shook her head and pressed the top of mine down.
I grinned. “Seeing as it’s our wedding night, I’m inclined to follow orders. Just this once.”
