Chapter 7
Tor
“What was that? Do you need mental health support?” She screws up her face as I walk us out of the security area with her pitiful wobbly roller bag vibrating in my hand.
“Couldn’t let you leave, so I did what I had to do.”
“Well, Mr. Saman.” She draws out the enunciation of my last name and I want to let her know it’s going to be hers soon, but she’s so fucking cute all riled up. Her little tantrum is making my dick hard, so I let her finish. “I have to be somewhere. I have something important I have to attend. If I’m not there by morning, it will wreck my sister’s wedding.”
She’s stomping like a toddler and all I can think about is turning her bratty ass over my knee and swatting that bubble butt a few times.
I pretend to be curious about where she was going and why, even though I know every last detail already. It pays to have a team of PIs on retainer. “A wedding, huh?”
“Yes, a wedding. Which you would have known if you’d bothered to check before pulling that stunt back there. And there are no more flights out tonight, and even if there were, I think I’m probably on a no-fly list now. So thanks a bunch.”
Where some people see problems, I see solutions. “Don’t stress, Sweet Cheeks. I’ll get you where you need to go.”
I wouldn’t let her miss her sister’s wedding. I wouldn’t let her go without me either, so here we are.
Her eyes snap wide, arms crossed, pushing up her cleavage, which only serves to make me salivate. The thought of getting those pert little nipples that are poking through her shirt into my mouth is jamming up my logical thought process.
She stops walking in the middle of a crowded area in front of the arrival and departure monitors.
“Get out of the way.” A forty-something dude in flip-flops and a Vegas t-shirt snaps, shouldering his way by.
Rage envelops me as he knocks Natalie off balance with the enormous duffel hanging on his shoulder, and like a cat striking at a mouse, I’ve got my hand around the strap of his bag, swinging him around to face me.
“What the fuck, man?” He sneers as I tug him my way until we are chest to chest.
“Watch where you’re fucking going. You practically knocked my wife over.” The words feel like sweet honey butter on my tongue as Natalie shoots me a shocked look and I give duffel bag guy a hard shove forward. “Nobody disrespects my wife.”
The word feels so fucking good, I had to try it on again.
Natalie is shaking her head, her brunette waves breaking around her shoulders.
“Wife?” She says as soon as he’s out of earshot.
I shrug, offering nothing more.
“Insane. I can’t believe I signed off on your paperwork yesterday because clearly, there is a lot going on up there besides anger issues.” She stabs a finger toward my head and taps the toe of her little black ballet sort of shoe on the concrete as announcements on the terminal loudspeakers make her raise her voice. “And, to get to the wedding on time now, I can rent a car, but it’s an eight-hour drive! I’d have to drive all freaking night! Which, I guess, is what I’ll have to do, isn’t it?”
I nod, lifting my chin on a sniff. I like that I’ve got her so upside down that she’s forgetting the details already. “But how are you going to rent a car without your driver’s license? Or a credit card? You said you lost your wallet.”
She growls up at the flickering fluorescent lights, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Damn it.”
“That’s why you were using your passport to board the flight.”
She glares as I take a step back into her, and she responds by backing up until a huge concrete column ends her retreat.
I brush my knuckles down the heat of her cheek, holding her eyes with mine, and an inch of the tension in her shoulders falls away. Such a good girl.
“If I miss my sister’s wedding, I will never forgive you.”
Then I put my finger to her lips, enjoying the lingering fury on her face. “Do you trust me?” I ask, taking my finger away.
She coughs and scoffs. “I have a degree in psychology. You’re meeting the criteria for several mental illnesses right now, so, no, I do not trust you.”
She will soon enough. “I’ll admit, I’ve been crazy since I saw you in the bar, baby. And back then, I didn’t even know your name.” I inhale just above her head, drawing in more of her sweet scent, then finish. “Since the second I saw you, you’ve been in every one of my thoughts.”
She hesitates, staring me down. I’m fighting the urge to just stare at her nipples for the rest of the day, but I want her to know I’m listening to her. Hearing her. Seeing her.
“I can’t imagine any of those thoughts are reasonable. Because you are wildly unreasonable and yeah, dangerous.” She nods toward where we were standing when I schooled duffel bag man on how to treat what’s mine.
“That’s accurate. Ifwedon’twrapupthislittletiffsoon, I’mnotsureI’llbeabletocontrolmyself. And then security really will have something to charge us with: public indecency.”
“In your dreams,” she snorts, rolling her shoulders back as travelers move by, shooting us concerned looks.
I grin. She’ll find out all about my dreams soon enough, and I can’t wait. “While I was sitting in that godforsaken anger management training, my PIs were busy collecting all the info on you. I had them working on your identity since last night, but they were coming up empty with no name and barely a flash of your face on the security footage from the restaurant.”
She blinks a few times. Shocked, but she doesn’t try to run. “And?”
“So, I know all about the wedding. I know exactly how to get there. All you gotta do is trust me.”
“Well then we’ve got a problem, because I don’t trust you.”
This girl.
She gives it good, but her nipples and her scent are telling me things her mouth won’t.
“Look, you’ve got no other options, right? You know I’m not a serial killer—”
“Do I? Jury’s still out on that one.”
I grunt, she’s not leaning into my plan as easily as I thought. I put my fingers to my temples. What was it their program taught me? Breathe. Count to ten. Something about more sugar, less stick.
“I’m not a serial killer,” I tell her, and see her stifle a giggle. “As you well know. Outside, right now, I have an RV. I also have a driver.”
“You have a what?” She sort of leans to my right, looking around me toward the glass wall at the front of the terminal, a childlike curiosity replacing her vitriol.
“An RV. It belonged to a client. Long story. Her husband’s pride and joy, he was a cheating, has been rock star, but I forced him to sign it over in the divorce last month. It was an unprotected asset in their pre-nup. She took great joy in handing the keys straight to me, right in front of him, and telling him to go fuck himself. I take many kinds of payment.”
“I bet you do.” Natalie can’t control herself. She starts to laugh, and it looks great on her. Her whole face lights up, the anger and annoyance falling away. “I bet you loved that, right?” she asks.
“I love winning, yeah. But winning against an egotistical asshole husband with a pregnant young wife who didn’t know any better than to sign a pre-nup? And making him pay for his mistakes?” I think about my mom after my dad left her, struggling to keep us all fed and clothed, and a little ball of anger wells up inside me still. But, I focus on the cherub doll in front of me, and the decades of bitterness seem to melt away. “There’s a special place in hell for men like that.”
She worries her bottom lip as she watches me. “Go on.”
“So, I might have had the RV delivered here. I might have hired a driver. I might have been planning to kidnap you. A little.”
The anger in her eyes softens. Just a fucking bit. And that’s a start.
“A little kidnapping? So you’re an honest serial killer? That makes me feel a whole lot better.”
I raise my fingers a centimeter apart. “A little kidnapping, no serial killing. And as RVs go, it’s pretty fucking sweet.”
She blinks a few times at me. “And this was all because of last night?”
I sniff and adjust my balls. “Yep. You and me, we’re matches and gasoline. And if I can spend eight hours with you, getting to know you and getting you where you need to go, be that Massachusetts or somewhere more metaphorical...” I give her a slow up and down stare, lingering on the valley between her legs for one beat, two, three. “Then that’s what I’m gonna do.”
Her cheeks are deep red and her hazel eyes are glistening. That’s happiness, and I fucking love the way that makes me feel. “You’re really such a cocky bastard. Divorce lawyers are the worst.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
She inhales slowly, flaring her nostrils. “If you can get me to my sister’s wedding before she notices I’m late, maybe—maybe—you’ll win yourself some points with me.”
Fuck yeah, this is my kind of winning. “Deal.”
“This is the kind of camping I could get used to.” She spins around, running her hands over the shining burlwood wall as I close and lock the partition that separates the driver from the back of the RV, which is more like a mobile condo.
When I hatched my plan, at first, I thought I’d get a limo, drive her wherever she was going. Then, I picked up the phone to charter a plane. But, both of those have flaws. A limo is too impersonal, too cramped. The flight would be too fast, not enough amenities for what I planned.
Then I remembered the RV. I got on the phone with a company that I know tricks out custom RVs for musicians and high-end clients. I told him go get it, do everything they could to trick it out in the time they had, then deliver it with a driver to the airport and there was no jacking around on price.
It was worth the hundred grand. It’s perfect, and more perfect because she thinks so as well.
The engine hums as the massive machine lurches forward.
“You hungry? Thirsty?” I move to the little kitchen and open the refrigerator, showing her that it’s stocked with everything from champagne to orange juice, soda, food, cheeses, fruit. When I told them to get it ready, I meant everything, and they didn’t disappoint.
“No.”
She leans on the counter and I reach for her hand.
“I’m hungry. If you remember, my sister cock blocked my dessert last night.”
She smiles as her eyes sparkle and a tight grin tugs on her lips. “That she did. I hope we can mend that fence with her. She didn’t seem to like me on her desk.”
“Already done. Now, come. I want to show you something.”
I shift her body in front of me, hands on her shoulders, and walk her step by step toward the back of the bus to the closed door.
“Open it.”
She tosses me this cute, little girl sort of look over her shoulder before she reaches for the handle. The door clicks open as she pushes, and her little gasp as her hands fly to her mouth, along with the way she does this little skip jump in place, is just the reaction I wanted.
“You are crazy.”
I ease her forward into the room, lit with low candles in glass holders. The scent of roses swirls with her own sweet scent.
The room is lined with vases of white roses. A thousand of them, but that’s not all.
She walks to the vase sitting on a little dresser, everything is siliconed in place to make sure they don’t turn over or fall during the dirve, but I’m happy with what they were able to do in the time frame I gave them.
“What’s with the one red rose?” She turns, her finger touching the red petals in the sea of white.
“It’s you. Everything else is white and plain, but you? You are red and bright. The red rose I’ve been looking for my entire life.”
I’m feeling like the luckiest man on Earth when I ease the zipper down on the back of her navy and white polka-dot dress.
“I’m keeping you.” I nuzzle against her neck, slipping the straps down her shoulders, letting it fall at her feet, feeling like a king when she doesn’t protest. “Just so you know, so it’s clear.”
I feel her lungs fill, and I know she’s going to give me some sassy retort. But I cut her off at the pass with the trifecta of my teeth on the nape of her neck, one hand sliding down her belly and taking a handful of her pussy, while my other slips under her bra to tweak her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
“Jesus.” That’s all she manages, her head falling back into my chest and her body quakes as I strum her clit with my finger, enjoying the warm juicy wetness I’ve not stopped thinking about since I touched her last night.
I kiss her neck and grind my hard-on against her ass.
She strains, turning her head to look at me. “I have a secret.”
“What’s that, baby?”
“Last night? At the restaurant?”
“Yes.” I ease her around so she’s facing me, sitting her down on the edge of the bed and kneeling in front of her.
“I’ve never—” She worries her lip and pops those red lips together, and my balls feel like they’re filled with lead weights. “Like, I have this thing, like a wand? Right?”
“A toy,” I manage, already realizing the jealous rage at an inanimate object is not healthy, but that doesn’t seem to matter.
She shrugs a shoulder as I unclasp her bra, sliding it down her arms as her flesh rises in goosebumps.
“I’ve tried to, you know, get there. But all I could ever do was sort of get to just that point…” She raises her voice, pointing a finger upward. “Then, nothing.” Her shoulders fall in defeat. “I could never get over the line. Off the cliff. Into the deep. But I did. Last night. With you.”
Pride swells in my chest like a misogynist asshole, but I don’t care.
“Your first orgasm was with me. I want all your firsts from now on, baby. And your next one is going to be on my face. In my mouth.”
She wiggles her hips as I tug at her panties. “Yes, but I mean, what about…” She tightens her lips and points to my crotch. “That looks like it needs some attention too.”
“I’m going to show you how you will be treated from now on, baby. How I’m going to take care of you.”
She reaches out and runs her hand over the front of my pants, and I wince, biting back the orgasm from the brush of her fingers.
“I said I’m going to show you. Be a good girl.” I ease her back, laying her down, bending her legs and shoving them wide. Then, I see it and remember.
“Baby.” A knot forms in my chest as I trace the ragged silver skin on the side of her leg. “These, what happened? Who the fuck hurt you?”
Thinking of her in pain or broken has rage spilling from every pore. I want to dismember whoever did this to her.
“It’s okay. It was when I was young. Surgery.” A wash of some relief cools the fire burning in my gut, but only by a degree because whatever caused that kind of scar had to hurt like a motherfucker. “I had a problem with one leg. But, it’s fixed. I’m okay.”
I manage a heaving breath, leaning down and kissing the length of each scar, wishing I’d been there to comfort her when she was in pain.
Lust grabs me by the balls, jerking me back to the moment as she lays there like a divine offering, and now more than ever, I want her to know something.
“Remember, even when I’m rough, even when I say filthy things…” I pause, the words almost slipping out, surprising myself. I don’t want to scare her, so I adjust course. “Just remember, giving you what you need might not always be what you think you want. But I will never, ever harm you. And anyone that does…” I leave it there, not wanting her to ball it out the door when I’m so close to claiming my prize.
I see her bite her bottom lip as she lies naked in front of me, and I hold my breath.
“So fucking perfect, baby,” I choke out, the words catching in my throat as I dive in, pushing my face between her thighs, mouth open, wanting all of her at once.
I drive my tongue into that tight cherry opening, swirling it around her little barrier, hoping when I claim her with my cock she won’t hate me for how much it’s going to hurt.
I kiss, lick, suck and drink in her sweet nectar until it’s dripping from my chin and tensing up.
I lick up and down, slowly, then get laser fucking focused on her hard little button. The way she raises her hips and starts pulling at my hair, I think I’m getting ready to hit the bullseye.
Her flavor is more than I can handle. I see white spots, a beast-like growl vibrating through me as I swallow down her sweet honey, then suck hard on her little nub.
She shoots off and bucks like a rodeo bronco against me, but she’s no match for my grip. I tug her softness against my mouth, sucking and slurping as I ride out her orgasm, her wet heat drenching my face.
But I’m not done.
Her next orgasm is just as strong as I pump my tongue in and out of her opening, the pad of my thumb working her clit as I nearly go off at the sound of her calling my name.
As she pants and comes down, I brace myself over her, kissing her and sharing her sweet and savory flavor as her body twitches and writhes under me.
“Now,” I say as I pull back, her eyes unfocused, her hands on my shoulders. “You’re a virgin, baby, but tell me, are you on anything that’s going to keep me from breeding you?”
“Breeding?” she repeats, her cheeks bright red as she tries to get her brain re-engaged.
“Yes, baby. Breed. Cum. Eggs. Ovaries. Baby making 101. I’m going in raw. I’m going to unload right up against your cervix, and I’m going to keep doing it until I take root. So I need to know, you got anything going on that’s going to fuck up my program?”
Her mouth is wide, eyes on mine, holding her breath. Then she shakes her head. It’s almost imperceptible, but that’s all I need.
“Good girl. Because I’m coming for you.”
All my life, I’ve resisted commitment. All my life, I’ve avoided the idea of getting married. I’ve even avoided weddings because all I could ever think was this whole fucking idea is doomed.
But now, here, with her in my arms, and this crazy fucking white-hot fire in my belly and heart? It’s the most natural thing in the world.
And conveniently, we’re on our way to a wedding right now. So, I mean, really. I might be a difficult motherfucker, but I can see the writing on the wall.
“I’m gonna say something fucking crazy. You ready?”
She turns in my arms a little, looking up at me, long lashes dusting her cheeks as she blinks. “Yeah.”
“I love you.”
She laughs a little and my heart breaks a little.
“Tor.”
“I mean it, baby. Seeing you for the first time split me in two. And having you is the only thing that’s going to keep me together.”
She looks up at the RV’s ceiling. Then she takes a deep breath and runs her fingers over my chest. Light and sweet. “Alright. My turn to say something crazy.”
Fuck. Fucking fuck. “Hit me.”
“I love you, too. Psychopath. Serial killer.”
Christ. My eyes blur with the emotion of it. I can’t even bring myself to look at her because I know there’s a non-zero chance I’m going to start to cry for real. Still, though. There’s something else that needs to be said. Because love is just words unless there’s action.
“I see your crazy thing and I raise you,” I tell her, my heart thundering, because this might be the most important closing argument I’ve ever made in my life.
“Alright. I’m ready.”
“We should get married.”
She snorts out a laugh. God, what a beautiful sound her happiness is. “What’s that?”
“We should fucking get married. Because there is no universe in which you aren’t mine. And there is no version of this life in which I don’t spend every fucking morning and night just like this. With you in my arms, where you belong.”