Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ryker
I open the car door for Sasha, helping her into the passenger’s seat.
I’ve never seen her dressed like she is this morning, in ripped jeans and a fitted leather jacket, but she looks hot as fuck.
She’s applied some charcoal looking eyeliner around her eyes, making her large eyes look even bigger, and she is rocking this hot, slightly dangerous, definitely vulnerable look that has my balls on fire.
Or maybe it’s the fact that she slept tangled up in me all night, the silk of her legs wrapped around mine, her little pussy rubbing against my thigh in her sleep.
I know we’re both clear that this is temporary.
But I don’t intend for Sasha to find out what I’ve taken from her, in terms of the casino.
So there is no reason we can’t…enjoy each other while we’re married.
I’ve never allowed a woman to sleep over, in fact, I usually don’t allow them into my personal space at all. I fuck at their place, which leaves me free to exit when I choose.
Then again, the penthouse isn’t really my space either. I’ve moved there with Sasha for her protection, but I’m free to return to my own apartment whenever I need.
I like having built-in outs. Like to be able to cut when things get too…messy.
She steps into my car, folding her legs inside before I close the door.
I have to admit, I didn’t hate having her in bed with me. It’s a first, but not a last, for sure.
Waking up to her body against mine was both sexy and sweet and I intend to do it again.
Then again, my raging cock won’t be able to abstain long if she continues to sleep wrapped around me.
I climb in the car and plug an address into the GPS. It’s a boutique kind of store that my brothers use often for their wives.
They have high-end clothes for nearly every occasion.
I got a look at Sasha’s wardrobe this morning. It’s a lot of workout clothes and casual things like what she’s wearing today.
She’ll need more clothing for going out in the evenings, to events, things like that.
The straight, silky curtain of her hair hangs down her back. I resist the urge to run my hand over it, let the strands slip through my fingers. “Any hair or makeup requirements?”
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t need anything, really.”
I frown. “We’ll be out some evenings at family events. Charity stuff. You’ll need clothes for that.”
She nods. “Whatever you think.”
Sasha is killing me. I’ve not heard her utter a single word of complaint. She’s not made a request. And she’s so agreeable it’s almost painful.
It doesn’t take long to reach the shop. I pull around the back and use a side entrance, meant to give us more privacy.
Stepping into a private room, racks of clothes have already been pulled for Sasha’s benefit.
“What are we looking for today?” the salesclerk asks as she joins us in the private room. She’s the kind of blonde that you find all over Vegas. Thin, gorgeous, and completely plastic.
“Clothes for the evening, for luncheons, for…” I pause, thinking of other events Sasha might find herself at in the next few weeks.
“Of course. We can do that. We can’t have your wife, Mr. Smith, looking like she’s been dragged through the ghetto,” the salesclerk clicks her tongue in distaste, giving me a conspiratorial wink as she makes eyes at me.
Sasha’s chin drops to hide her cringe, her hands covering her stomach. I watch my wife retreat into herself, her thumb and her middle finger tapping together.
Fuck.
I’m not here to help Sasha’s self-confidence. Just allow her to collect her pay and be on her way.
But right now, she’s my wife. A woman chosen by one of the most powerful families in Vegas and the world. Salesclerks should treat her with respect. My chest expands as I give the clerk a hard stare in return.
“You’re dismissed,” I bark, my lip curling.
The blonde’s eyes go wide. “I didn’t mean—”
“Send someone else in.” I don’t want to hear her explanation and Sasha needs to understand. I am her protector. From mean salesclerks all the way up to murderous fathers. On this front, there is no pretense, nothing false.
Sasha’s head snaps up, her fingers stilling as her wide eyes meet mine. “Ryker, you don’t—”
“Princess,” I step up to her, my palm cupping her jaw even as the clerk retreats, “if you’re going to go out on your own, you’re going to have to learn how to tell people to fuck off. Might as well practice while you’ve got me as backup.”
Her eyes go wide, filling with surprise before she surges up on her toes, her lips crashing into mine.
It’s not a neat kiss, not skilled in anyway, but it still makes me go granite hard.
It takes so little to fill Sasha’s cup, it’s almost pathetic. She needs affection, a bit of consideration, like most people need air. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her belly into my hips as I kiss her back, showing her how it’s done.
This might have started with a lesson on how to exude strength, but now it’s a completely different skill I’m teaching.
I kiss her a couple times, long and slow with a simple press of my lips to hers, waiting for her lips to match mine. And when they do, soft and so fucking sweet I could devour her, I press her mouth open, letting my tongue sweep between the pillows of her lips.
I feel her start, her body going rigid, but I don’t retreat. Instead, I start the kiss over, kissing her lips, pushing them open, sweeping my tongue against hers.
This time, she doesn’t shy away. Tentatively, her tongue pushes back against mine. It feels so good, I groan into her mouth.
It’s been years since I responded to a kiss like this. I can’t explain why Sasha is so different, but a little tongue play and I’m leaking cum from a hard-on that could cut glass.
Maybe it’s because she’s so unsure, so delicate, or perhaps it’s because she’s been much harder to get than any woman has been for a long time. But whatever it is, she’s got me ready to beg.
Every response with her is amped up. Did I accuse her of being too easy to please? Christ, she’s got me ready to blow my load at the slightest touch.
I hear the door open and close again, knowing the new clerk has entered the room, but I take my time finishing the kiss.
It’s that good, for one. But two, we’re doing this on my time, my way. Always.
And last, the clerk will respect Sasha. She’s an extension of me and my position in this world.
I finally step back, still not looking at the clerk but at my wife.
My fucking wife. I married this woman.
I can say it’s temporary and it is, but I can also feel the difference and that is not something I expected.
I look down at Sasha, her eyes hooded and unfocused and I want to dive back in. She’s so responsive and she feels so good.
I give her waist another squeeze before I step back.
The new clerk gives me a polite smile, averting her eyes. I jerk my chin in response, glad we’ve got the dynamic settled.
I take a seat as the saleswoman steps up to Sasha all smiles. My message has been received. “Could we remove your jacket?”
Sasha nods and slides the leather coat off, revealing a small white tank top underneath.
The clerk walks around her turning her head this way and that. “You’re so tiny, everything is going to look amazing on you.”
That’s the way I want them talking to my girl. And the clerk is right. Everything is going to look fantastic on Sasha, I’m sure.
Small but full breasts, tiny waist, lean hips that look good in clothes.
She looks good without them too, at least what I’ve seen. I can’t wait to see more.
The clerk goes to the rack of items and pulls out a few long dresses. “For evenings and charity events?”
“I prefer knee length,” Sasha replies and then looks at me. Is she asking my permission?
“Or shorter,” I add with a wicked smile. I have first-hand knowledge that her legs are gorgeous.
Shapely and toned, she’s got a fantastic ass too.
The clerk puts the dresses back on the rack and pulls out shorter ones instead.
For the next two hours, Sasha is wrapped in silk and lace, clothes for every occasion joining the rack of items she’s purchasing.
Her hair and even her smudgy makeup dress up and down effortlessly, and she looks like she belongs in my world.
Likely because she does.
She’s no stranger to money, nor is she uncomfortable with the darker sides of my business.
How is she still so damn sweet?
She finally comes out of the changing room in her ripped jeans and leather jacket once again and I drink her in. “Should I change into something else?” she asks me, eyeing me like she’s gaging my reaction.
“No.” I like her in this outfit. In fact, I think it might my favorite look of all. She looks like my little pirate, the one who had the balls to come into my casino and count cards.
Honestly, I want more of that Sasha.
Looking at her now, I know I made the right choice. She’s much better for me than Katarina.
And though I’ve never even dated a woman for longer than a few weeks, I’m actually looking forward to our year together.
Of course, having an end date is part of the enjoyment.
But Sasha isn’t going to have to fake being happy for her brother. I’m going to keep my woman satisfied.
Starting tonight.