Stolen: A Bad Boy Romance(50)

My cock pressed hard against its cage. It wanted her. I wanted her. Fuck, the way it throbbed made me absolutely crazy. She pressed herself against me, her body wrapped around my cock, the thin panties and my pants the only thing separating us.

“Why can’t I say no to you?” she asked me, the look in her eyes one of lust, of fear. I wanted her to look at me with more, but I’d take it.

I’d take any and all of it. I slipped my hand into her blouse and up her side until I found her breast and gave it a squeeze. Oh. Dear god, she was luscious.

She was messing with my head, and it was really dangerous. So dangerous.

I couldn’t wait. I needed her now. I reached up and grabbed her panties, pulling them down from under her skirt. I wasn’t going to wait, no not this time. This time, it would be fast and hard. There was always next time for slow and sweet.

“Greyson, please?” she asked, begged really. I loved it when she whimpered. It made my fucking day. But I wasn’t going to deny her, not this time. I reached my waistband and unbuttoned it, zipping down my pants and freeing my cock. God. Dammit. I needed her, now.

As soon as I was free I was in her, filling her, fucking her. I couldn’t wait to get undressed, I didn’t care about that. All I cared about was her at that moment. Fucking her, smelling her, feeling her. I wanted to take her in and never let her go.

“Oh, yes, Greyson. Yes.” She was so beautiful in the way that she said it, her heart beating heavy, the pounding of it audible against my chest. She wanted me just as much as I wanted her, and we both knew it. She moved up and down my cock her body acting as a sheath, making me crazier and crazier with each move.

Giving up control to her, surrendering it, letting her have the one thing I was always too afraid to surrender. The stakes had never been higher.

“God, Joanna. I need you,” I growled. I hated being vulnerable, but it was what she made me. How she made me feel. I couldn’t be anyone but myself with her.

I grabbed her hips and pumped myself into her, my cock entering her over and over again. Fuck, she felt so good. All of her surrounding me while I felt her from the inside. It was perfect. It was everything I craved.

So when she came on my cock almost immediately, it made it that much sweeter. I waited a long moment, just holding her to me while she orgasmed on me, her body trembling in my arms.

I growled deep and low, a fire burning within me pumping myself inside of her until I came, our bodies one.

I held her there for a long time after that.

“Joanna, stay with me.” I don’t know why I said it, at least not at first. The truth was, I felt like she was going to run. Like she would flee and never turn back, and I couldn’t have that.

“What?” she asked.

“I- I think we can make this work. God, I never get tired of feeling you. I never get tired of my cock in your pussy. This could be a good thing.” I tried to make it sound like I wasn’t falling for her. Like I was tough. In truth she was breaking down all my walls, leaving the crumbled remnants of them scattered while my heart was exposed.

But she might not ever love me. She might not ever see me as anything but temporary or a burden.

I swallowed.

“I wish I could say I didn’t feel the same way, but you bring my pleasure to new heights. Even when you punish me.” She blushed.

I knew she liked it.

I’d been so wrapped up in her that I forgot the rest of my world. I forgot all the things I had to do outside of here. And even if it was just for a moment, I was glad.

“I’ll always make sure you are safe,” I whispered into her ear. “I’ll protect you.”

I would kill for her. I was going to kill for her.

She had no idea just how much I meant it all.





Joanna



I took a deep breath and looked up at the sign on the store: M.B. Waltz Bridal Boutique. Greyson’s driver had delivered me all the way to Washington D.C. in order to go bridal shopping. I was really here, and I was doing this. I could see Greyson’s mother, Mae, through the window with her oldest daughter, Mary. They were already picking out dresses. Styles, cuts.

When I walked through the door, a hostess greeted me. “Ms. O’Brien?” she asked.

I merely nodded.

“Ah, Joanna, there you are! I was afraid you’d hightailed it on us,” Mae said as she walked over and gave me another deep hug.

I couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking, I just knew that I was nervous. “I’m here now,” I said, smiling.

“We’ve already picked out all the dresses we think would fit your form and personality well, but there are still more you may like,” Mary chimed in. I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to her at the dinner. She was just as quiet as Maggie, and to hear her voice now I could sense the anxiety in her.

She seemed like a wound coil, twisted so tight she could spring at any moment.

My hands ran over the fabric; the supple silks dotted with lace and beads under my fingertips. I didn’t know very much about dresses like this, in fact, I’d never actually imagined myself wearing one, but now that I was in this store, in this room, I couldn’t help but get a little excited.

My eyes caught a dress hanging on a mannequin and I knew in the instant I saw it that I needed to at least try it on. It had intricate lace detailing and three-quarter sleeves with a neckline rose up and off the shoulder. The ivory color and lace detailing was what made me stop. It looked vintage. Old. Like something a woman could wear in any decade.

Classic.

“Ah, I see you have chosen the Celandia by Atelier Pronovias. It is actually quite delicate the lace you are fondling is part of the bodice.” The boutique hostess smiled. Cindy. The name on her plated tag was Cindy. “It is inspired by vintage gowns and it would be a beautiful fit on you. Essentially, it is one of the finest gowns in the shop. And very rare. It can no longer be found in stores. Couture.” I could tell by the way she looked me up and down that she was judging me. Probably thought me unable to look, let alone touch, couture.

“Try it on, Joanna. I bet it looks lovely,” Mae glared at the woman. “What’s your size?”

“Eight,” I answered. I was a curvy woman, but I was trim at the stomach, and I did work to ensure I had as much strong muscle as I could.

“Normally we take measurements and send back to the designer because they are handmade. But we do have a few gowns for display, and we did not use the size ten, so you should consider yourself lucky.” Cindy pulled a bag out from beside the mannequin. “Do be careful when trying it on.”

“Are you sure this is necessary?” I asked Mae, “I mean, it is a rather quick wedding.”

“Nonsense. Catholic women only get married once, right? It has to be beautiful.” I didn’t want to argue with her, but if she knew the plan was to marry only until it was convenient to divorce she might think otherwise.

Hell, she might not think much of me at all.

I pulled the dress into the dressing room and began stripping down my clothing a piece at a time until there was nothing left but me and my panties. I slipped the dress on and felt it as I zipped the back up as far as I could manage.

“Mae?” I asked, “Could you help me the rest of the way?”

“Of course,” she walked into the suite and sucked in a breath before she walked up to me and zipped the gown the rest of the way up.

It may have been a ten, but wedding dresses often ran small, and this piece fit me like a glove. It was perfect. The right length, the right feel. Modest yet beautiful. In a flash, I saw the whole thing. Me walking down the aisle, looking at my bouquet of warm fall colors.

“What do you think?” I asked as I turned and looked at her.

“I think you have impeccable taste. And that woman has no idea with whom she is dealing.”

I giggled at Mae’s haughty tone, one that she affected to feign snobbery.

“Now go show your soon to be sister-in-law.” Were those tears in her eyes?

“What do you think?” I asked Mary as I opened the door and stepped out.

She grinned at me. “Antique and perfect. You would look great with garden roses, bunny tails, and pink-edged variegated dogwood.” She looked like she was lost in a vision, something she could see that I couldn’t.

I blinked. “What?” I asked.

“I’m a florist. Sorry,” she blushed. “I just think a very antique looking display would go best with your dress. It’s classic. Elegant. And I think you will make a beautiful bride for my unsuspecting brother.”

Right. Greyson. I’d gotten so caught up in this entire fantasy that I forgot who I was marrying. The man at the end of that isle. What would he think of all this, did he even care? It wasn’t like he got a choice in the matter. Like either of us got a choice in the matter.

Still, as he said, there were benefits to this whole arrangement.

“It’s why I brought Mary. She has an eye for detail. One that I trust her with. I thought she would be able to see what bouquet would go best in order to coordinate your bridesmaids’ dresses,” Mae explained. “And I wanted her to get to know you better. You two are around the same age.”

I nodded.

“What do you think those colors would be?” I asked, my shyness returning.

“Warm yellows and pinks with ivory hues and greens. Very classic. Very vintage. Dusty rose would be your best choice for bridesmaids’ dresses.”