Fake marriage or not.
Tomorrow, they’d annul the marriage and she’d fly back to Wisconsin, while he’d return to his bachelor’s life of unwedded bliss in Baltimore.
“For now,” he moved off the bed, grasping her hands and pulling her up as well, “you have too many clothes on.”
He gripped her hips, turning her away from him so he could untie the laces at the back of her dress until it fell away.
Because of the design, she’d gone braless, which meant Alex had her down to just her panties in seconds.
Charley turned to face him, the look in his eyes making her feel…beautiful.
He ran his hand along her side as his gaze traveled downwards. He pushed her panties over her hips and she shimmied them the rest of the way off, kicking them off, along with her flats.
Charley reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it.
She wanted her own show, wanted to see…
“Fuck,” she murmured appreciatively as she stripped his shirt off. Alex was a bronzed, muscle-bound, chiseled-in-stone god. “I want to lick every part of you.”
She hadn’t meant to say that aloud, belatedly realizing it might come across as sort of weird, but Alex didn’t laugh.
Instead, he cupped the back of her neck, drawing her face toward his chest. “Lick, kiss, bite. I don’t give a fuck. I want your mouth on me anyway I can get it, sweetheart.”
She took him at his word, sinking her teeth into his pec until he hissed in pain.
Then she stepped back and gave him a victorious grin.
“Like that, is it?” His voice was deep, dark, and dangerous.
Charley leaned forward, biting the other pec before running her tongue over his nipple.
“You remember what I said back at the chapel?” he asked.
He said a lot of things, the most memorable being “I do.” But she knew that wasn’t what he was talking about.
She ran her hands over his stomach and unfastened his belt, pulling it free with a quick, loud snick as it slid through the loops.
Rather than drop the leather, she bent it in half, then drew it over his chest. At the last second, she slapped it against his taut stomach before saying, “I do.”
He let her have that free shot.
Just the one.
Then he reached out and grasped her wrist firmly. “You wanna play rough?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
Alex knew her.
Maybe they hadn’t seen each other in years, but deep down inside, she was the same girl, the same tomboy who played to win and didn’t mind drawing blood if it got her what she wanted.
Alex was the same.
He gave her a ghost of a grin, the most sinful smile she’d ever seen, before he used his grip on her wrist to twist her away from him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly, her back to his chest, her arms trapped by her sides. His cock was hard and thick, pressing against her ass, his pants an unwanted barrier.
“Birth control?” he asked.
“Pill.”
Charley struggled, not because she wanted to get away from him. But because she wanted to rip him out of his fucking pants, push him onto the bed, and ride his cock, hard.
His grip tightened, his teeth nipping at her bare shoulder before he pressed his mouth to her ear. “You realize I’m going to come out on top, sweetheart. You’re mine, Charley. Completely.”
Everything inside her exploded with need.
Alex said all the right words, knew exactly how to hold her.
He was her dirtiest fantasy come true.
“Prove it,” she taunted.
One second, she was captive in Alex’s arms, the next, she was facedown on the mattress, her wrists clasped together behind her back, shackled by one of his oh-so-big hands.
With the other, he slapped her ass.
Hard.
Charley reared up, fighting for control she didn’t want, as he spanked her again.
“More,” she demanded.
He placed half a dozen slaps on her ass and upper thighs before he stopped and ran his hand over her now-sensitive skin.
Charley lay still, soaking up the suddenly gentle touch. Alex mistook her quietness as surrender.
His mistake.
She flipped to her back in one swift motion, wrapping her legs around his waist.
The sudden movement caught him off guard and he fell forward, bending to catch himself before he crushed her, his elbows landing on the mattress by her shoulders.
She attacked, biting his neck at the same time she raked the back of his shoulders with her fingernails.
He hissed, and for a split second, she felt bad about scratching him.
The guilt was short-lived.
Especially when he bent his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth so hard, she saw stars.
“Fuck!” she yelled.
He lifted his head victoriously.
“Mine,” he said again, so smug.
Charley used her legs around his waist to draw him down to her, pinching his arm. “Why are you still wearing pants?” she bitched.
Alex didn’t respond, didn’t give up possession of her tit. He bit her nipple before turning to assault the other one. “You’ll get my dick when I give it to you.”
Oh, fuck no.
Pain morphed to arousal then everything turned primal.
She rubbed her pussy against his covered dick, dry humping him, out of control.
Alex reached lower, using one hand to unbutton his pants, to lower the zipper.
“In me,” she cried out. “Now, goddammit!”
He didn’t bother to lower his pants.
He simply reached in, drew his cock, and then…
“Fuck! Me!” she screamed as he thrust to the hilt with one powerful shove.
Charley came instantly, waves crashing over her, pummeling her, drowning her.
Everything turned to white noise, though she was vaguely aware of crying out his name, her nails scoring his back viciously.
She was definitely drawing blood and she didn’t care.
Alex didn’t give her a chance to recover, didn’t give way. He thrust into her harder, faster than she’d ever been taken in her life.
It was fierce.
It was ecstasy.
“Mine,” Alex yelled again, his lips near her ear. “Mine. Wife.”
That word penetrated, hit her hard.
Because it sounded so good.
So right.
So…fuck.
Wrong.
Chapter Nine
Alex rolled over and stretched, every muscle tight, sore.
Jesus. Even his dick hurt.
What the fuck happened…
Just like that, it all came back to him. The reception, the tequila, the chapel.
The honeymoon.
He married Charley Matthews.
Alex let that soak in for a second.
Yep.
That’s what he thought.
Not a single regret.
He smiled when he heard his not-quite-so-angelic angel of the morning roll over, groaning and rubbing her forehead.
“Motherfucker,” she said, squinting against the sun shining across the bed.
Alex held still, waiting for the moment when…
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
She’d spotted him.
Alex looked over, catching a quick peek of her tits before she pulled the sheet over her naked body.
The devil in him wouldn’t let her off easy, so he reached over and pulled the covers back, the two of them waging a mini-battle—one he let her win, but not before reminding her, “I saw it all last night, sweetheart.”