“You just got even wetter,” he said. “You must like that.”
I nodded and I dropped my head down next to his, unable to hold it up anymore.
He left that breast out, still cupped by the lace of the bra and moved on to the next one, where he pulled the shell of the bra down there too, so he could lick and suck at my nipple while he pinched the other one.
The walls of my pussy contracted. I was about to come, and he hadn’t even put his hand between my legs this time. I couldn’t stop the slow-moving train of my orgasm. It crashed into me, and I shouted Jackon’s name several times. “Don’t stop fucking me,” I said, panting through my heaving breaths.
“You just came on my cock,” he said. “I didn’t even touch your clit.”
“I was turned on,” I said.
He lifted me up. and flipped me over onto my stomach and he pushed my legs apart, drawing me up onto my knees. “Now I’m going to fuck you from behind, so I can see this firm ass.”
Face down, I moaned into the pillow while he rubbed his fingers over my dripping pussy.
He slid in, not giving me time to adjust, but I loved the feeling of being full, and the feeling of his large cock pressing against my inner walls. I lay still while he thrust into me. I didn’t think I couldn’t come again, but the tension built inside me all over again.
He sucked on my earlobe and muttered into my ear how hot I was, and how turned on he was. And then he wrapped his arm around me and pushed his cock inside my body, one more time, before making a roaring sound as he cried out in pleasure. His cock throbbed and pulsed as he held me in his arms from behind.
I let my body collapse, letting all the tension drift through my veins as Jackson rolled off of me. He gently pulled my thong down and dropped it on the floor, and then went to get a towel.
He came back and kissed me on the ear. “You are amazing in bed. You just get hotter every time I fuck you.”
A big sleepy smile passed over my face as a warm glow from his compliment flooded my body.
Chapter Seventeen
Jackson
Today was day two of dressing up in a ridiculous monkey suit, and it wasn’t even the same one as yesterday.
The frantic energy of the entire estate was palpable. Based on just the feeling in the air, if I was on a mission, I’d be wary as hell.
The staff’s shoulders were hunched, and they were scurrying. The guests were talking loud and walking fast. I watched all of them for signs that they were about to go crazy, but no one did. It happened. People at family events lost their shit sometimes, and people ended up fighting. But no one seemed to have reached that point here. Maybe this was just how rich people at a wedding acted.
The weddings I’d been to had been a whole lot more low key. Of course these people had flown in their own chef just so they could eat what they wanted for breakfast for the few days they were here, so the comparisons weren’t really accurate.
Before the ceremony, Loren’s mother found me. “Hello again, Jackson. We’d love for you to join us and sit with the family.”
Oh hell no. There was not enough money in the world for me to sit with my fake girlfriend's family during a wedding, especially while the fake girlfriend wasn’t even going to be sitting there. That would be asking a lot of even a real boyfriend.
“Thank you for the offer, Senator. But I’ll probably stand at the back.”
“Oh, right.” She patted my arm. “My brother’s the same way. He always wants to keep an eye on things.” She nodded toward the officer that worked at the Pentagon, who was standing next to a chair on the outside aisle. “He’ll sit, but he won’t sit in the middle.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded and smiled.
That seemed to work great for her because she squeezed my arm. “We’re so happy you’re here. You let us know if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Senator,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
Someone called her name, so she took off but her perfume lingered. I shifted and moved closer to the other bodyguards, hoping I’d blend in with them and no one else would remember that I was Loren’s supposed boyfriend.
After a shit-load of drama, the wedding finally started. A violinist and a harpist played classical music for the flower girl to walk down the aisle while everyone oohed and ahhed. The minister stood in front of the ocean, where the bride and groom would join him soon, with the rest of the guests sitting in rows of white folding chairs. Loren was moving around at a rapid speed, and now she’d gotten her camera set up on a tripod near the altar so she could get photos of the bridesmaids walking down the aisle.
I loved watching her move. I loved watching her work. She was so focused, so absolutely centered on what she was doing, because she loved her job, and she wanted to deliver the absolute best product to the bride. It didn’t matter to her that her cousin was a total jerk. Loren was committed, and I had to admire that in any profession.
Plus she was sexy as hell as she flitted around in her shimmery champagne-colored dress. It hugged her curves and she stretched and bent and twisted to get the right angles for each shot.
I had to tear my eyes away from her to keep looking at the rest of the group. Even now during the wedding ceremony, the groom caught my eye. He’d joined the minister on the stage, and something about him was shady as hell.
His bride was walking down the aisle, which was supposed to make even the toughest man just a little emotional. But he’d look at her, smile, and then glance down at his wrist. He wasn’t holding a phone, so he had to be looking down at a smartwatch. Was he that big of an idiot that he didn’t realize anyone would see what he was doing? And that it would be recorded forever with photos and videos? Maybe he was just enough of a prick that he didn’t care.
I couldn’t see his eyes, but his body language was off. He was giving every sign that he was waiting for something, and it wasn’t his bride.
When she joined him at the altar, he did paste a smile on his face, but it was a weird one. The ceremony dragged on, and everything went off without a hitch, and finally they were pronounced husband and wife.
Everyone got up and headed to the reception area, which was also outdoors. There was a dance floor, surrounded by tables and chairs, a small band playing hit songs, and tables loaded down with food, all covered by a huge white tent.
Before Loren could get caught up in the madness of snapping photos of the bride dancing with the flower girl, I caught her by the arm. “Look at me,” I said to her. I knew if I didn’t make eye contact with her, she might easily brush aside what I was about to say.
“Do you need something? I’m working.”
“Something’s wrong with the fiance. I guess he’s the husband now. Douglas.”
“What?” She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I do for a living. And I can’t give you one ounce of proof that would hold up in court. But I’m telling you that something is off with Douglas, and I want you to be aware of that.”
“Off like what?” she asked.
“He’s uneasy,” I said. “He’s nervous.”
“Lots of people get nervous at their weddings.”