Family Business (Mixing Business with Pleasure Book 3) Page 11

  Nick sighed loudly and let his hand fall away. My breath was jagged, raspy even, and it was the only sound in the apartment until I shrieked as he plunged two lubricated fingers into my ass. My body jerked and my sound twisted, contorted into something so primal it couldn’t be muffled by the linens. I went back and forth between delight and agony as he thrust and stretched. I barely registered that his fingers were back lacing tighter into my hair.

  His other hand twisted so his thumb could roll around my clitoris then start plunging into the slick of my sex. These were shallow, teasing motions, and more torturous than the stretching of my ass or the yank on my hair.

  I was trembling when he stopped. He untangled his fingers and let my head return to the blanket. I couldn’t breathe, or feel my toes for that matter, but I certainly didn't want to be left hanging.

  “Nick.” The agonized word was all it took to bring his hand back to my body. He pushed me hard against the floor and his cock notched between my cheeks just before he draped his body along mine.

  His other hand reached down and clutched into my ass, pulling me open and letting his dick settle in closer. He rested his hard tip against me, and I couldn't help but writhe when he pressed in. I wasn’t lubed enough as he shoved and I scrambled and bucked beneath him. His hand moved to my hip and pushed it back down forcefully to the floor. I groaned into the blanket and balled my fists where they were trapped beneath my body.

  Nick kept pushing his cock further into me. His pelvis weighed heavy on me, and I couldn’t quite writhe anymore. I settled on biting the shit out of my lip until I needed to suck in a deep breath. He gave one more forceful nudge. I clawed the floor as his pleasured moan rang out in time with him sinking all the way into me. I started to wiggle again—I couldn’t help myself—I bucked up into his body. He moved his legs to the outside of mine and squeezed, once again forcing my body to still.

  He sat there for a moment, nestled deep inside of me. "You're marrying me. You're finally mine. Completely mine.”

  "I always have been.” I was able to say softly in return.

  He started moving in and out, his breath warm on my shoulder.

  “Mine. Fucking all mine.”

  I moaned when he pushed back in.

  “For-God damn-ever.” Nick picked up speed, and I lost my breath completely. My skin caught fire where it was smothered by him. Nick was grunting through gritted teeth behind me, and I didn’t remember making a single sound but my Yeses and cries were echoing through the living room.

  His thrusts picked up to such a fevered pace they were brutish. He was going to decimate me with his strokes. His grip would leave his usual bruises on my hips where he held me, and I was pretty sure his knees might do the same on the outside of my thighs. The way Nick was taking me was past edgy. He was claiming me, and as his most cherished possession, marking me as such too. I loved every minute of it.

  He leaned back, changing the angle of his shaft and I yelped. The sound had barely left my lips when he spanked me twice, incredibly hard, on the side of my hip.

  Fuck!

  An orgasm shot through my body without any warning and my muscles clenched down hard on Nick as I cried out. I was unhinged, numb, and unable to collect myself. He’d scattered the pieces of my soul into the wind with the way he’d just owned me. The only way I would become whole again was if Nick pieced me together. I knew it, even here, even now, gasping, almost choking on the feather down beneath my lips—I was his.

  I vaguely noticed him coming right afterward, but I couldn't really focus. My lungs wouldn’t fully expand under the weight of Nick’s body; I wasn’t really interested in making them. Satisfaction oozed from my every pore. He shifted on top of me and the sting of his spank resonated but it couldn’t lessen my delight.

  When my ragged gasps rattled against Nick, he gracelessly rolled off me. I yelped as he slid out of me and clattered against the low hanging ornaments on the tree. Heavy panting echoing off the glass was the only sound in the room beside the soft clink.

  "Oh Mrs. Bryant you amaze me." He smacked my ass again when his breathing slowed.

  “God damnit Nick!” I cringed and my neck tensed.

  "Calling you Mrs. Bryant or the smack?"

  "The smack. That stung like a sonofabitch.” I melted into the comforter again. “Surprisingly, I like Mrs. Bryant."

  I still hadn't moved the rest of my body; I couldn’t bring my limbs to do anything. He, however, propped himself up on an elbow so he could study me, jostling the ornaments again.

  “Careful," I playfully warned.

  He smiled and started tracing circles on my back in his familiar gesture.

  "I wasn't sure you'd change your name. No one, including me, would’ve blamed you for staying Elliott.”

  “I'm doing a whole lot of shit I didn’t think I would lately. Selling the business, getting paddled, getting married…” I smiled. “But it has a nice ring to it."

  He let one long finger trace the handprints on my backside.

  "Mrs. Bryant,” he repeated softly, disbelieving. “Mrs. Nicholas Fucking Bryant,” he added as with a low, smug rumble.

  “Language,” I hummed and turned toward him. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me flush to him. I snuggled into him and he tangled his legs around mine. I stayed wrapped up in my fiancé—fuck! fiancé!—under still twinkling Christmas lights.

  11.

  Soft daylight reflected off the giant ring now resting on my finger. I sighed as I picked my hand up from where I’d been drumming on the dresser.

  Mrs. Bryant. Mrs. Fucking Bryant.

  Five blissful days where Nick had paddled me, drank scotch out of my belly button, fucked me until I couldn’t walk or swallow, and photographed me with bows covering both my tits and clit were a bubble I would have lived in for eternity if it were possible. We’d pushed both Christopher and work aside and reveled in the pleasures of each other.

  I’d been claimed.

  My only wish was that I had a tangible way to mark my territory in return. Or, at least show him that he was mine. I wracked my brain for a token that would say I’d chosen him, a daily reminder he could look at and know I’d pledged myself to him and this marriage too. Something that complimented the extravagant but perfect ring he’d given me.

  The perfect gift hit me like a ton of bricks.

  I turned and scrambled across our sprawling bed to where my phone rested on the nightstand. It only took a moment to dial and even less time for the familiar voice to answer.

  “Hey kiddo, Merry Christmas.” Jenkins, the caretaker of my Hamptons house, was bright on the line.

  “Hi Jenks. Did you have a good holiday?”

  “It was nice and quiet, just the way I like it. You? Were you with that guy?”

  I sucked in a deep breath. Here it was. The first time I had to tell someone who wasn’t Laura, Ari, or Julia I was engaged. The words were sticky, slimy almost, in my throat.

  “Well, about the guy…” My voice trailed off.

  “He was a good one,” Jenkins interrupted.

  “How do you know? You didn’t meet him, you barely saw him when we were there.” I laughed lightly.

  “I saw the way he looked at you. That was enough for me.”

  The sappy sucker smile I’d been wearing for five days pulled back into place.

  “Well, that was enough for me too. I’m marrying him.” I blew out a deep breath.

  “Oh Kiddo, that’s awesome. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, Jenks.”

  “You doing okay?” There was a faint chuckle in his voice now.

  “Oh you know me…I’m terrified.” He laughed flat out at that and I joined him. “But I love him, and I can’t live without him, so…”

  “So.” He picked up for me. “What can I do for the happy couple?”

  “Ms. Elliott.” The concierge’s voice crackled across the line mere hours later. “There is a package here for you.”

  I practically jumped as
I hung up the landline and bolted toward the stairs. I was barreling down only to stop short on the second floor landing. Nick was below practicing his speech for the annual New Year’s Eve Gala benefitting the Carter Foundation but tension radiated off his shoulders.

  He paced the length of the windowed wall, half reading, half mumbling words that were on the notecards in front of him. I stayed frozen, watching him prowl. When he snarled, swore, and ripped his notecards in half, my feet started down the stairs all on their own.

  “Baby?” I was headed toward him but he waved me off.

  “There’s coffee on the counter.”

  “That’s nice, but I don’t give a damn.” I shrugged my shoulders as I crossed the softly sunlit living room. “What’s wrong?”

  “This speech…”

  “Try again,” I interrupted. “You’re a brilliant speaker. If you’re having trouble it’s something else.”

  He looked me over—twice—before he sighed. “Grab your coffee, I’ll explain.”

  Nick slumped into the wingback chair in the living room. Rather than take a seat on the couch, I knelt on the floor in front of him and let my fingers dance on his kneecaps.

  “Christopher disappeared again.”

  My hands automatically clawed in. “What?” My voice was sharp and my eyes were wide as saucers.

  “That reaction doesn’t help, Kate.”

  “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I squared my shoulders and closed my eyes to take a deep, cleansing breath.

  “It will.” Nick smiled when I opened my eyes but it was a pained, rueful thing. “And with Christopher, I suppose in some sick and twisted way, I’m glad you understand he’s such a problem. You know I’m handling it, right?”

  “You know I’m your ally, right?

  His smirk shifted, now more genuine. I found my lips moving toward his. He easily laced his fingers into my hair and pulled me firmly against his lips. Nick kissed me once gently, then pulled back to speak, his lips brushing against mine.

  “I’m scared, Sweets. Scared he could take this away from me. From us,” Nick’s whispered confession pulled on my heartstrings.

  “Stop,” I begged.

  “I’m just being honest.” His hands wove all the more thickly into my hair, his fingers clutching at me.

  “I know. And I’m grateful.” I curled my fingers into his shirt, grasping the cotton the way he gripped at me. “But stop with the doubting, stop with the questioning. I worry too. Every day. But…”

  “But what if I bring something down on you? What if I bring Christopher down on you?” His lips still leisurely brushed across my skin, his fingers almost trembled.

  I didn't know the details of Christopher’s wrath, only that it made Nick's blood run cold. He'd done unspeakable things to Ari and blamed Nick's good fortune and naturally kind heart for both raping her and attacking us. Honestly, none of it mattered.

  “Nick, I said yes knowing damn well there’s a good and a bad side to loving you. Knowing there is a way I end up complete and a way I end up completely destroyed. But I think you’ll find being all-in, fear of decimation be damned, is the only option we’ve got.”

  “This is why I need you. Why I’m terrified, but why I need you.” He finally pulled me up into his lap and let his lips trace up and down my jaw.

  “That reminds me…” I trailed off and pushed away from him. Grabby fingers followed me but he let me go. “I’ll be right back.” I practically skipped to the elevator and I pressed the call button multiple times even though I knew it wouldn’t speed things up.

  Nick had risen to follow me and just before the elevator closed, he shoved his hands on his hips and furrowed his brow. The moment the elevator arrived in the lobby I bolted barefoot to the concierge stand then hefted the large package into my arms. As soon as I set it down in the elevator, I swallowed. Hard.

  The sentiment behind the gift was what put a strangle hold on my throat. Nick had said such sweet things when he proposed. He needed at least that much from me. He would recognize the size and shape of the package immediately. I’d have to be short, sweet and vulnerable.

  Fuck.

  The elevator doors opened to a still frozen Nick. When his stormy eyes fell from mine and took in what I was holding, he cocked his head and blue filtered in.

  "Is that really for me?” His eyes came back to mine.

  "Of course. Who else would it be for?"

  "If it's what I think it is, I don't know why you'd give it to me.” His voice was low and thick with emotion.

  “You deserve something special, something that tells you I chose you every bit as much as you chose me. That I ask you to pledge yourself to me the way I did to you. Something that shows I’m all in, and I want you to be all-in too. Forever.” I bit my lip as I handed the butcher paper clad rectangle over. “I doubt you’d like a diamond ring.”

  I held my breath but he wasn’t paying attention to me. He was staring at the soft brown paper where his fingers skated along the edge.

  "I've wanted to see it since the day you told me it existed, but always thought better of asking." He picked at the twine tied around and into a bow. "Just knowing it existed inspired me to start photographing you."

  "You dirty, dirty bastard.” I shook my head.

  "I'm not the one posing naked for photographs." He winked at me then ripped into the paper. His face lit up when it fell away. "Kate," he breathed.

  I could picture what he was seeing. Patrić, the photographer responsible for the sensual photos of me in our theater room, had only taken one long shot of my body. Only one that showed anything private. He’d stood on a ladder over top of me, and shot in the same dim light and shadowy setting as the ones already hanging in our penthouse.

  This one captured me from lips to mid-thigh. I had on dark red lipstick and matching crimson fingernails skated across my torso. Besides the pops of red, the photo was black and white highlighting shadow and sensuality. Beneath me was a soft white satin sheet that appeared to ripple against my skin. The contours of my body were on display just like the ones Nick had purchased. Only this time he got every curve and contour.

  “This is the most beautiful gift." He swallowed hard. "It's you." He sounded shocked.

  "You have lots of naked photos of me Nick.” I smiled shyly and my eyes dropped to study the back of my engagement ring. “Many far more scandalous than this.”

  "But none you gave to me. And Patrić’s photos are what got us here in the first place. I held onto hope because of the woman in those photos. I held onto you even when I was drowning."

  He was still staring in disbelief when I grabbed the frame and slid it to the side. I wove my hands around him and whispered, “You’re mine, fucking mine” into his ear.

  We kissed tenderly as his hands explored the contours from the photograph in person. My hands returned the favor over his sculpted hips then up along his broad back. I scraped my nails down making him groan into my open mouth as I went. I smirked and unceremoniously shoved my hands down his pants.

  He arched away from my hands. “Hey, stop. We’ve got things to do today.”

  I didn’t even falter, I just grabbed his dick and started stroking.

  “Kate,” he warned as he grabbed my wrist and squeezed.

  My knees knocked together. Just his grip, firm and possessive as it was, made me wet. I pushed my breasts up against him. He snarled.

  “They say the second you get married the sex dies.” I added an exaggerated sigh as my hand fell away.

  “Ah, the vow I forgot. I promise, my fiancée, to fuck you into oblivion from now until forever.” His hand found his way back into my hair and he yanked, craning my head up toward the ceiling, opening my throat to him. He kissed my neck, sucked hard, then bit just as roughly. It would leave a mark and I groaned. “But I need to take you dress shopping first.”

  I rolled my eyes and relented. Nick pulled my hand from his pants and lifted it to kiss the center of my palm.

&n
bsp; “Fuck, I love it when you smell like me.”

  With that, he pulled me into the elevator. When we met Jaime in the lobby, Nick’s eyes clouded again. I followed Nick’s line of sight only to find the photographers that always greeted us. If my eyes changed color, they would’ve turned a dejected shade too. Our reality was overwhelming sometimes.

  At least it’s ours together.

  I turned to face my fiancé and my hand automatically moved to cradle his face. I played with the edge of his hairline then let my hand roll down along his neck. He still had a hard time looking directly in my eye.

  “Kate, I have the worst request." Nick's voice was a wholly tortured thing.

  “Anything," I replied unequivocally.

  "You haven't heard it yet."

  "The fact that you're making a request is enough for me." I smiled as I ducked into his line of sight.

  "They can't know yet. About the engagement. Not with Christopher..."

  I cut him off, "Nicholas Bryant.”

  “Sweets,” he scrambled, “please let me explain.”

  “No. You let me explain. I couldn't care less if the press knows. Ever. I told you a long time ago, I don’t need you to shout about this from the rooftops. Just between us is all I ever need."

  His shoulders sagged and relief seeped into his eyes. Without warning Nick’s arms flung around me. He gathered me into his chest, his arms around my neck, and my face gracelessly mashed into the crook of his shoulder. All I could do was wind my arms around him and run my hands up and down his back. When he pulled back, he smiled down on me.

  “If you wait right here I’ll run up and take my ring off.” I patted his back and tried to turn for the elevator.

  “No.” His arms got tight again around me. “Don’t ever take that off. It’s a symbol. It’s a promise.”