Chapter 38
Megan
Ilie curled against Jameson’s body, my face tucked into his neck, his heavy arm around me as he sleeps. His pulse beats lazily against mine everywhere we touch.
I take some pride in the fact that maybe I exhausted him?
I just had the hottest and most satisfying sex of my life. With my fake fiancé.
I should really sleep, but I just keep drifting in this heady haze of satisfaction and the lingering excitement.
Not only did he screw my brains out, he cuddled me afterward.
And kissed me for what felt like hours before he finally fell asleep.
Wait.
Does this mean it’s not fake anymore?
When he brought me to this resort, I’d expected more of the same as what I experienced in Europe: accompanying him to business dinners and frustrating nights lying next to him in our hotel bed.
Since Europe, there’s been an uncomfortable rift between us. I was afraid when I withdrew from him—feeling like I needed to, to protect my heart—that I was only worsening that rift. But it bothered me deeply when he continued to withhold sex.
For no known reason.
But tonight… something has changed.
I don’t know what it is.
I’m just grateful for it.
Jameson blew me away, not just with the sex, but with taking care of me the way he did.
But when we had sex… the line between fake and real became blurred in all the steam.
And the multiple orgasms.
Troy was never patient enough to give me multiples. The sad truth was our sex life revolved around my admiration of him.
That has never been more obvious to me than it has been tonight, experiencing another man making love to me.
In that department, Jameson is clearly a giver.
And yes, he’s a romantic.
He made me come until I physically couldn’t do it anymore and he had to peel me off the bed, quite literally, and tuck me in under the covers.
I hadn’t come with a man in so long, I’d almost forgotten what it was like.
But then again… it was never like that before Jameson anyway.
* * *
In the morning, I wake in Jameson’s arms.
The first thing he does when I look at him is smile sleepily.
I trace the dagger tattoo on his chest with my finger for a while as we just lie there, entangled in peaceful silence.
Then I say, “Tell me about this. Why so bloody?” I quirk a smile, touching the tattooed drops of blood with my fingertip.
His expression grows serious. “I got the dagger after I found out about my dad’s infidelities, to remind me that even the ones you love can betray you. Maybe I thought if I documented my wounds, then I wouldn’t have to carry them inside.”
“And did that work?”
He laughs under his breath. “No. It turns out it doesn’t really work that way.”
I trace the drops of blood again, dripping from the tip of the dagger tattoo. “One of these looked raw when we met, like it was a newer tattoo.”
“It was. The first drop of blood was for my mom, because of how Dad hurt her. I never wanted to forget that. I was an angry teenager, and I didn’t want to idealize him in my mind over time as I grieved for him. Because that’s what happens after you lose someone, right? I didn’t want to forget the harm he’d done and how he hurt us. It was important to me to remember.”
“And the second drop? The new one?”
He kind of groans. “I got it recently, after Granddad died. It’s for my grandmother. I only found out when my granddad was dying that he’d had an affair, too. And I didn’t want to forget that either. He’d lied to all of us for years, and I didn’t want to make him into a hero in my mind. He was like another father to me after Dad died. But he was far from perfect.”
I take this all in, then offer, “That’s really brave, Jameson, choosing to remember those things. Marking them on your body so you won’t forget. Most people would probably rather forget.”
“It’s not brave. I just don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. I never want to forget how their betrayal felt. I wasn’t even the one married to them, and it hurt me.”
I consider that, and how much we have in common in that regard. I know what it feels like to be cheated on.
I lay my head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, until he starts to get up and I moan in protest. He just smiles and drags me into the shower, where he makes the effort incredibly worth my while when he soaps my body, slowly and throughly, with his big hands.
Then he wraps my legs around his waist and fucks me up against the wall.
Hard.
It’s heaven and the most delectable hell at once as we moan and slap together in the heat, driving into each other so hard, it almost hurts.
I still can’t get enough.
He makes me come three times before he finally releases into me with a groan, his face buried in my neck.
I guess we’ll talk later about the fact that we haven’t talked about condoms yet. Or the pill.
I’m on the pill, and I’m not worried.
He’s barely pulled out when he gives me the most regretful face I’ve ever seen and tells me he has a few calls to make after breakfast.
I laugh, I’m so happy and sated, and he seems so adorably sad.
He gives me a warning slap on the ass that’s far too delicious to be chastising and tells me to behave.
Oh. Is this a thing now?
I can’t even hide my grin.
“I think I’d rather misbehave,” I say, and I love the way his eyes darken.
“If I could get it up right now,” he says warningly, “I’d be fucking you senseless for that.”
I don’t think I’ve ever smiled so hard in my life.
* * *
We eat our amazing gourmet breakfast on the patio.
As soon as I’m finished eating my last bite, my fiancé beckons me to him with a crook of his finger.
He pats his lap as I come to him.
I sit down in his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m going to get these pesky calls out of the way,” he tells me, his hand on my neck, his thumb drifting over my pulse. “You enjoy the pool. Then I’m going to enjoy you again.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say breathlessly.
Then I kiss him, long and slow, until he groans. He gives my ass a deep squeeze and gives me the gruff order: “Be good.” Then he removes me from his body.
So much for working only when he wants to. While that’s usually the case, I’ve learned that if his siblings expect him to be on a call, even he can’t get out of it.
I grin.
“Why do you look so happy?” he grouches.
“I just never knew until now that teasing you would be so much fun.”
He glowers.
“What?” I say innocently. “It’s true.” Now that he’s showing me how much he wants me… letting himself have me… “I like seeing you get all worked up.”
When he reaches for me, I think he’s going to try to spank me again, but he turns me by the hips. I’m now facing a line of hooks along the wall, where luxurious robes hang.
“Bikini,” he orders. Then he slaps me on the ass.
Tingles spread through my body, but I give him a dirty look over my shoulder.
I go to pluck the bikini down, and I hear him follow; it’s dangling from one of the hooks. It’s a terra-cotta color, with little white flowers on it.
“Do you like it?” His hot breath teases my skin, and he presses a kiss to that sensitive spot where my shoulder meets my neck. One night and one morning of passionate sex and he’s already sussed out so many of my hot buttons, it’s insane.
I try to keep my cool. “It’s cute.” I hold it up. There isn’t much of it; it’s mostly string. It’s definitely skimpier than the one I brought.
“It reminded me of the sundress you wore the day I met you. You know, in the street.”
I laugh a little. “Oh. I’d hoped we’d forgotten about that by now.”
He turns me by the hips to face him. “Why?”
“Because, I was such a mess. That wasn’t exactly a good day for me, Jameson.”
A wounded expression flashes over his face, and I automatically encircle his neck with my arms, pressing my body against him. I love that I can touch him so freely now. It’s like a drug. Addictive and dangerous.
I know he’ll be impossible to quit.
I try not to think about it.
“Except meeting you, of course,” I clarify. “That was the highlight of my day.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying. That day was an emotional roller coaster for me. I was shell-shocked by meeting you in the street. I didn’t even know what hit me. But when Cole introduced us by your pool…” I sigh dramatically, as if I’m laying it on thick when I’m really not. “It was love at first sight.”
His lips quirk. “That was the second time you met me.”
“Yeah. But it was the first time I was calm enough to actually see you fully. And baby, you are a sight.” I reach up to kiss him, and his mouth melts into mine with a low groan. His tongue laps hungrily against mine, and when I moan, sagging into him, he growls and pulls away.
“Phone calls. Let me just take care of these. You change into that skimpy thing and meet me in the pool.”
“Okay.” I nip his bottom lip with my teeth, and he swats my ass yet again as I turn away.
I could really get used to this version of Jameson. Like stalker-hoarder obsessed with this version.
I wonder if he’s planning to stick around…
Because I definitely want to keep him.
Dangerous.
I go change in the dressing area by the showers, and when I emerge, Jameson is pacing in the little sunroom off the patio, on a call.
“Fucking seriously, Harlan,” he growls, as I wander past him, heading for the pool. “You need to bring someone. It’s a formal event.” He makes a grab for me, but I dance just out of reach, then linger at the edge of the room, eavesdropping. “Every seat at the gala dinner will be accounted for. Savannah expects you to—no, look, you’re just making stress for Savi. Just muster up a plus one and make sure she’s presentable.” He hangs up on his brother.
Then he throws me a look that tells me I’d better get my ass in the pool or he’ll be fucking me while he makes his next call.
I seriously consider sticking around for that, but then he says, “Hey, Savannah,” and since he’s talking to his sister, I decide to behave.
I go slip into the pool. I can hear him on the phone in the sunroom, where he watches me. I can’t hear the words as I glide through the warm water, but I can hear the timbre of his voice, low and controlled.
His business voice.
It’s even sexier than it used to be.
Everything about him is sexier now.
It’s kind of frightening, actually.
When he finally steps out of the sunroom a while later, I’m pondering this conundrum—that I’m getting scarily attached to my fiancé, and I’m really not sure if I should.
He’s changed into swim trunks, though, and my thoughts are instantly hijacked by the view.
Long, lean torso sculpted with muscles.
Yes, please.
And that gorgeous face…
Those light-blue eyes, burning with hunger.
I swim to the shallow end and walk up the wide steps, smoothing back my wet hair. I move slowly, letting him enjoy the view of the bikini he picked out for me. I’m soaking wet and barely covered, which is clearly how he wanted it.
He bought the top of the string bikini a generous two sizes too small, which I know was no mistake. His stylists have all my sizing. The fabric of the unlined triangle top covers my nipples and a little more, but I’m spilling out.
As I walk toward him, my breasts jiggling lewdly, his cock stands at attention. Thickening in his swim trunks, it flexes when my gaze falls to it.
Appetite, indeed.
He holds two flutes of champagne, but sets them down on a table as I approach.
Then he reclines onto a lounge chair, admiring me, his hard-on shamelessly evident.
“Hi.”
“Hi. Why don’t you be a good girl and get on my dick,” he greets me. His voice is soft and indulgent, like a stroke across my skin.
I stand just out of reach, dripping, my nipples hard through the pasted-on fabric. “Oh? Is your business all finished?”
“Yes. Come here.”
“Anything wrong? You seem stressed,” I tease, not coming here at all.
“It’s fine. Just the usual nightmare of renovating a resort. We’ve got seven months left, and Graysen’s heading steadily toward his heart attack.”
“Hmm. Maybe he needs to get laid more.”
He laughs shortly. “Yeah. I’d say.” He reaches, trying to grab me. “Now give it here.”
Sadly, “it” is just out of reach. “I thought we were swimming.”
“Plans change.”
“Are you objectifying me, Mr. Vance?”
His gaze roams over me hotly. “I have every intention of objectifying you every chance I get, wife.”
A shiver runs down my back at that word.
Wife.
A thrilling, delicious shiver.
He only referred to me as his wife one other time; when he told his siblings he’d asked me to be his wife and I’d said yes.
But that was all fake.
What is it now?
“You haven’t earned the right to call me that yet,” I say, still teasing, and watching his eyes darken dangerously.
“Show me what belongs to me before I put you over my knee and spank you for that.”
I pull the string, loosening my top slowly, teasing him as I peel it off. While my body buzzes with the adrenaline blast.
The truth is, I’d love a good spanking.
He squeezes his hard length, letting the head pop out the top of his swim trunks. Giving me a show, too.
Have I seriously found a man to play with? A man this hot?
Could he really be this much fun?
Heaven, thank you for letting me in.
The head of his cock is wet with precome, and I lick my lip.
“Do you like what you see?” I ask him.
“When you emerged from the water with that wet bikini clinging to you, I could’ve come in my shorts.”
“Wow. What a waste.”
“Now show me that pussy.”
“So bossy…”
The truth is, I love it.
I love dirty talk.
I peel off the bottom of my bikini just as slowly as I stripped off the top. Making him wait for what he wants.
Maybe this is payback.
Just a little.
For all the time he made me wait…
When I stand in front of him naked, I say, “No one can see us, right?”
“Now you ask.”
I giggle, glancing around.
“We’re alone. Get that gorgeous body over here,” he purrs.
I drift closer, standing next to his lounge chair. His eyes gleam at me. A lion without a cage.
Where has he been hiding all this ferocious hunger, all this time?
And why?
“Take off my swim trunks.”
I peel them down and off as he shifts his hips to let me.
When he’s naked, I know my appreciation of what I see gets him hot. My desire for him turns him on. It’s obvious.
But his desire for me is equal, and it takes my breath away how badly I needed this.
I forgot what this was like.
Being wanted.
His cock strains lewdly, wanting me.
My mouth drops open as he grabs my wrist and suddenly pulls me down, drawing me over his lap. Before I know it, he’s got me face down, spread over him with my ass up. In spanking position.
His hand spreads over my ass cheek, hot and possessive, squeezing, and tingles run through me. Oh god, is this happening?
Thank you.
He strokes his hand over my ass, massaging gently. “Teasing me is so naughty of you, Megan. Don’t you agree?”
I shudder in surrender and make a desperate mewling sound.
“That’s my good girl.” Jameson’s voice is low and soothing, choked up with lust. “You’re so lovely, even when you misbehave.” Then he slaps me on the ass.
The sting and the sweet burn of pleasure hum through me, making my toes curl.
He squeezes my cheek again, digging his fingers into the tenderly stinging flesh. “Good?”
“Yes.”
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs lovingly, then slaps my other cheek, and squeezes there, too.
Suddenly, I’m choked up.
He proceeds to spank me, over and over again, so thoroughly and with just the right amount of pressure to make my whole body sing. I arch, gasping. “So beautiful,” he purrs. “So perfect, Megan.”
I pant, my head spinning, as he runs his hand over both cheeks, soothing the tingling flesh.
“Now come sit on me, baby.” His voice is throaty with longing now. “You’re torturing me.”
I’mtorturing him?
I clear my throat a little, trying to keep playing. “Poor baby,” I coo. “Do you need pussy?”
“I need your pussy,” he growls, and spanks my ass again. “Give it to me, or I’m coming to take it.”
I consider my options on that.
Admittedly, they’re pretty win/win.
Then I decide.
I take my time, pushing myself up, then kneeling over him and sliding into place in his lap. When my knees are settled on either side of his thighs, he spreads his legs, forcing me to spread wider for him.
“I feel like we’re being watched. It’s so bright and open here.”
“We’re not,” he says firmly. “I’d never allow that to happen. This is mine.” He grabs a breast and a tender ass cheek and squeezes. “I would never let the world have you like this.” He yanks me closer and sucks a nipple into his mouth, teasing me a little, before adding darkly, “And my staff know better than to disturb me when I’m pleasuring my wife.”
My wife.
Jesus, that sends an unbelievable thrill through me, like an electric current to my ovaries.
Jameson jerks my hips forward and down, impaling me on his cock so suddenly, I’m not fully prepared for it. I cry out. My hands land on his chest, steadying me.
“Yes,” he murmurs. He yanks me down farther, hard, filling me completely.
The flood of heat flushes through me fast, and my body reacts, knowing what to do. I start riding him in a quick, almost frantic rhythm, hungry for him, as he murmurs sweet encouragements between the kisses he lavishes on my breasts.
And at the same time, he slaps my ass.
I reach behind myself, where his swollen ball sac is nestled under my ass. I’m grinding on it and he’s already coated in my slick juices and his own precome. I squeeze gently, and his balls throb, telling me the sweet pressure is probably driving him insane.
His hand falters, losing the rhythm as he spanks me, and I know I’m winning the little battle for control.
“So big,” I purr. “My man is so loaded.”
His eyes flash with something deep and dark and heady, and overflowing with lust.
I struggle to retain my composure longer than he does. I can feel him stirring, restless with the urge to come already.
Or maybe he’s just fighting the urge to flip us over, throw me down, and drive into me without mercy, punishing me further for teasing him.
He grits his teeth and growls something in his throat that’s not quite words as I tease his balls, stroking, then squeezing with my slick fingers until I feel the answering throb. Over and over.
He groans hoarsely.
“You feel so full and needy,” I gasp out.
It’s me who’s needy, desperate to climax with him again.
“It’s all for you,” he grits out, grabbing my breasts to shove them together and stroking his long, hot tongue between them. “Tell me to come.”
“Yeah? Do you need to come?”
He growls again, swallowing back his answer to that. He seems to know only two words now. “Fuck, Megan. Fuck.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Fill me up, Jamie.”
I lean forward a bit, inviting him to chase, my breasts bouncing in his face as he rams his hips up, driving into me repeatedly.
“You feel so good,” I gush.
I’m turned into this purely sexual being every time he’s inside me.
I know nothing but the want of pleasing him.
The want of exploding in quivering, shaking fireworks with him as my heart bursts open.
When he lets go, it’s with a loud groan as he buries his face between my breasts, his hands gripping my ass. His cock jerks, pouring his heat into me. His fingers dig into my flesh—and one of them touches my asshole.
I whimper without meaning to, and he pushes his finger into me.
My whole body is a rush of conflicting sensations as that probing finger drives deep.
I come as he whispers sweet things about how perfect I am against my throat.
I shake, my back arching, a scream of relief tearing from my throat as he rocks into me and the waves of orgasm crash through me.
Afterwards, he wraps his arms around me.
“Megan,” he gasps as we settle, pressed together, heavy and hot, panting.
“Did you really book us here for a week?” I whisper shakily as it hits me that he brought me here for this, and I get a little choked up again.
“Of course I did.” His hands slide into my hair and cup my head. “Give me your mouth.”
Our lips collide in a hot, ravenous kiss that goes on and on as his heartbeat and mine blur into one. All my cautions to myself are flying out the windows of this runaway train.
Because maybe this was all I was waiting for, all along: for him to express his affection for me.
I’ve been so starved for it, I gobble it up.
In the midst of all this smoldering heat, though, I feel a twinge of fear. Troy used to withhold affection until I was starving for it, too. Until I just learned to go without.
And over the years, part of me shriveled up inside.
My heart. My heart and my capacity to trust, and even to love, shriveled up.
And now Jameson is bringing it back to pulsating life.
But if he lavishes me with affection like this and then takes it away, puts up that silent barrier between us again… I know it’s going to hurt like hell.
“I need to fuck you again,” he murmurs against my neck, and I suppress the euphoric giggle that bubbles up my throat.
“Are you always this insatiable?”
He hasn’t even pulled out yet.
“For you… Yes.” He lightly bites my throat, making me shiver. Then he looks into my eyes, sending my heart to the moon when he utters, “You’ll just have to get used to my appetite if you’re going to be my wife.”
Then he kisses me so deep and so long, my chest starts to burn.
And I know if he actually asked me to be his wife… to stay… to make this thing between us real…
I’d say yes.