Accidentally Married to the Billionaire 3(48)

“I didn’t have bacon. She had bacon,” Marj corrected, “and she was nice to me. She understands a lot about being married to a Cates and the overall obsession with Power Regions. Which I still say sounds so phallic that it’s like ‘oh my region is soooo super powerful boom-boom,’” she dissolved into giggles.

“That’s terrible. And not at all what it means. It means that the company centralizes power in a conglomerate for maximum efficiency in management.”

“Yeah, sounds like a big dick to me.”

“We should let you do all the marketing campaigns then. Invest in Power Regions, our dicks are huge.”

“Well, thick wrists never lie, Cates,” she teased.

Brandon kissed her. He pulled her to him and crushed her to his chest, tipping her head back and kissing her breathless. She burrowed into his arms, wishing at once for the Burberry Prorsum, the Agent Provacateur ensemble she’d had at the ready on the night of the diamond pendant and the canceled date. Yet, she found unexpectedly that she preferred this. The ease of snuggling and teasing and putting in a movie, and ignoring it comprehensively to use the couch for a better purpose. It felt substantial, satisfying. Like this was real life, this was what she’d been waiting for with Brandon.

“It’s only fitting that we have our reunion   on a couch, isn’t it,” he said, his voice low and sexy against her neck, “since the first time we were together was on the couch in that hotel suite in Vegas.”

“I’m glad you haven’t forgotten,” she purred.

“Never,” he vowed, his mouth claiming hers again. They moved together, peeling clothes off and rediscovering one another. She loved the hot smooth skin of his shoulders, the taste of his neck. His hands played along her rib cage, setting her wriggling with a ticklish urge to squeal. His fingers peeled back the lace of her bra and set about stroking her breasts until her nipples were almost painfully hard. She made involuntary gasping noises, sounds she couldn’t hope to control under the onslaught of his fingers, his tongue.

She caught the waistband of his pants and unfastened them, working them down past his hips so he could kick them away impatiently. Marj reached for him, her hands on his lean, strong back, drawing him near. She parted her legs for him, winding her thighs low around his hips and rocking toward him. When he kept kissing her neck, kept fingering her nipples as if there was no rush at all, she reached between them and seized his hard length in her palm.

She stroked his length until he twitched against her palm and she felt with satisfaction the way he pushed toward her, the way he parted her slit and pumped into her passage. She sighed, replete, as he filled her. Then she started rocking and bucking against him in rhythm, moaning her approval every time his strokes bumped against that spot inside of her that gave her a surge of raw pleasure.

In the background was the high-pitched twinkly music of the DVD menu, the fat comedian’s film never quite beginning because they were both far too busy to push play. Soon, the groans of completion drowned out the theme music, the slap of bare slick skin covering any sounds from the speakers. Marj called out Brandon’s name several times, each time higher, louder than before as she climaxed. Her body went rigid, and she saw stars as he slammed into her one last time, and she felt him shudder and groan atop her. Marj clung to him, her nails digging into his strong shoulders, her mouth on his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat from the exertion of their lovemaking.

When they were finished, he spooned up behind her on the couch, drawing a blanket across their bare legs. She reached for the popcorn bowl and he turned on the movie. If they spent most of it kissing, and the rest of it in a blissed out nap, it was still well worth the dollar twenty-five they spent at Redbox.

“I’m cancelling tomorrow’s appointments. We need to do more of this,” he said against her tangled mass of hair.

“Sounds perfect to me,” Marj said with her whole heart.

Brandon’s cell rang.

“Don’t get that!” Marj said.

He smiled. “It’s just Paul. He won’t talk long.”

“All right. But no work honey. Please.”

“I promise.”

When he hung up, he started to get dressed.

“You promised no work.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“To work?”

“Lena is trying to get the will overturned. Since you’re supposedly dead, she thinks she’s won.”

“Man, the Wicked Queen wasted no time. I haven’t even been dead a full day! There wasn’t even a funeral!”

“We’ve got to stop her.”