Playing Pretend by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Twenty-Three

Liam

The walkto the building that houses my penthouse suite is quiet. Eliza barely looks at me as we stroll side by side down the busy Strip under the bright lights.

When she starts to shiver, I drape my suit jacket around her shoulders. The gesture seems to take her off-guard. She turns her neck to meet me with a curious stare.

After everything that’s happened between us, she’s questioning why the hell she’s headed up to my hotel suite tonight.

I’m asking myself the same damn thing.

I keep replaying the way her lips felt beneath mine as we stood, embracing, beneath that tacky floral arch. The way her skin radiated heat through the fabric of her wedding dress. The way I had to force myself to stop kissing her before my heart gave out.

Wrangling my reckless thoughts, I try to convince myself that there’s nothing wrong with taking my fake wife back to my hotel room on our wedding night. I try to block out the voice telling me that this is a horrible idea.

We’re going to watch football, for crying out loud.

We get on the elevator and begin our ride up to my suite. Eliza claims one corner of the elevator and—out of fear that I’ll lose my mind and shred her out of her dress—I claim the furthest corner from her.

But the sexual tension between us is amped up to the max and I can’t think straight. Any time that gorgeous woman is within twenty damn feet of me, I lose my mind. My body has never wanted a woman the way it wants her. Meanwhile my brain tells me that Eliza Jenkins might just be my downfall.

We’re going to watch football. Just football.

I keep my eyes straight ahead, watching the numbers flicker on the panel as we climb. In my peripheral vision, I see Eliza in the corner, chin dipped low as she snickers from behind her bouquet.

“Why are you over there snickering to yourself?” I ask, cautiously peering at her. “What’s so funny?”

She lowers the flowers and shakes her head slightly. “I just…I just can’t believe I’m about to spend my wedding night eating chicken wings and watching football with my new husband.” She cracks up again.

“What? Is there something else you’d rather be doing, Wifey?” I cock a brow at her, waiting to see what her next move will be.

She doesn’t. She just shakes her head again. Like a good girl. “Sorry, I—I just…Never mind…”

I take one large stride closer to her. I lift her chin with my knuckles. “Anything you want tonight, it’s yours. I’ve told you, Eliza. I’m a man who can make things happen.” I repeat myself. “So again, is there something else you’d rather be doing?”

She’s so damn sexy when she blinks at me all shy and sweet. She’s trying to be good but the flickers of mischief in her eyes tell me her inner bad girl is aching to come out and play.

She bites her lip. “I’d rather be fucking…”

The elevator doors dash open. In an instant, I flash my key card over the reader and enter my hotel suite. The second we step into the dark room, I shut the door and slam her against it. I plant my forearm on the door above her head. With my other hand, I squeeze her hip. Taking slow, deep breaths of her scent, I stare down at her.

My intellect makes one final plea to me, advising me to get away from her, to send this girl home. But there’s no way I’m walking away now.

Fuck—she’s beautiful.

She sweeps her pink tongue over her strawberry lips. Her sweet breasts rise and fall with each of her labored breaths. Her chocolate eyes glimmer in the dim room.

It’s crazy how arousing I find her. Everything about her turns me on.

She flings her wilting bouquet onto the armchair beside the door. Her little hands glide up my chest to lock around my shoulders. “What’s with all the hesitation, Hubby? You scared?” The tone of her buttery voice is taunting.

I chuckle. This girl has no idea what she’s in for. “I’ve waited so long to get my hands on you. If I don’t take a second to calm myself, I’m gonna end up fucking you to pieces tonight.” My palm glides down her hip to nestle her ass.

She looks so damn pure in that white dress. It makes me want to get her all hot, wet and dirty.

She rises onto her tiptoes and fists my collar. “You talk a big game, Mr. Kline. Time to back it up with some action.”

I capture those sassy lips in an unforgiving kiss. I crush her against the door with my torso. Our tongues battle, our teeth clash, our lips tussle with each other.

Football game? What football game?

I’m wrestling her out of her wedding dress as I suck hard on her neck. The moment it hits the floor, I mercilessly tear her cheap bra apart and her heavy breasts spill into my palms. I cradle them and lean down, just for a moment, to taste them.

I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t taste every single inch of this woman.

My hand works its way between her thighs. Her panties are drenched for me. “I can’t wait another second to eat this pussy,” I growl against her neck as I scoop her up by the ass. Her legs wrap around me. I stalk off across the suite in search of the nearest horizontal surface.

The conference table.

Loose papers and file folders scatter when I pour her onto it. She knocks over a half-empty glass of red wine I started drinking to calm my nerves earlier today. I don’t give a fuck.

Because now, she’s lying there, with her curvy thighs splayed for me.

She pulls me down on top of her for another kiss. A guttural sound leaves me when she slides her hands beneath my shirt and touches my flesh. She whimpers, too.

Impatient, she fists the fabric of my shirt and pulls. The sound of fabric tearing fills the room. I shrug out of the shirt and the next thing I know, my body is flush against hers. Her skin is hot and soft against mine, lighting up every cell in my body like a wildfire. Our lips pop apart when she jerks back for air.

“You’re so fucking sexy like this. I need to eat your pussy. Before I lose my mind.” I pull up an office chair to the side of the table.

She rises onto her elbows, looking drugged with pleasure as she watches me. “I want that,” she whimpers. “I want you to eat me.”

I pull her panties down her legs and fling them…somewhere. Then I’m placing kisses up the insides of her thighs. She smells like berries everywhere. Even in her most intimate places. I love it. When I drag my tongue through her engorged nether lips, her elbows falter and she hisses out a swear word.

Grinning to myself, I push her down on the table. I use my shoulders to hold her knees apart. “Don’t move. Lie down and take my tongue, Wifey.” I keep licking her, letting her sweet, hot lava pour into my mouth. The taste of her honey is making me high.

I lick her asshole too, not something I’d usually do, but fuck it. My tongue was in the neighborhood, so why not?

She’s so pliable under my hands. It’s like she’s melting, limb by limb.

I love having her like this. Open, willing, vulnerable to me. I’m getting off on her compliance. She’s so damn sassy all the time but tonight, I’m in charge.

My cock is getting impatient, though. Raging. Eager to be inside her. I stroke a hand down my shaft, assuring him that he’ll get his turn to play soon. For now, I just need to dominate this stubborn woman. I just need to make her come with my mouth.

“Oh fuck. So good. So damn good.” She moans out, her spine arching off the table. “So good. So good. So good.”

Her grasping hands reach for my head. She holds me there. Like she’s trying to drown me in her ocean of pleasure. She’s so wet. So wet and still squirting more of her arousal onto my mouth. This has to be better than heaven. I could die with my face in her pussy.

I pull her clit into my mouth, flicking my tongue over the little bud while I bury two fingers into her channel.

Her inner walls squeeze and throb as she rocks her pelvis on my mouth. “Lick it lick it lick it!” she screams.

She knows what she wants. But I know what she needs.

When I spread my fingers apart inside her and scrape my teeth along the sensitive nerves of her clit, she absolutely crumbles in my hands.

A powerful orgasm tears through her and she convulses violently on the table.

“That’s it, Eliza,” I whisper against her thigh. “Come for me. That’s it.”

Slowly, the tension unwinds from her limbs. Her breathtaking, splayed body gradually relaxes. She’s a beautiful sight, lying there breathless and trembling. I eyeball her sexy, parted mouth. Can’t wait to get my dick in there.

I give her a moment to compose herself. Because I need her to be steady for the carnal plans I have in store for her tonight.

I’m going to fuck her mouth. I’m going to find my release against her tongue. Then I’m going to take her to my bed and lose my cock inside her pussy. I can hardly wait.

But Eliza seems to have something different in mind. She clambers down from the table, smoothing down her wild blonde waves as she goes. She bends and scoops up her wedding dress from the floor like she’s getting ready to leave.

“Well, thanks for that. It's been fun." She flashes me a wicked grin.

Wha…?! Hell nah!

I capture her around the waist and pull her up against me, her back against my front. Her skin feels exquisite on mine. “Not so fast.” I cup her breasts, thumbing her rosebud nipples in little circles. “Haven't you heard of returning the favor? Reciprocation, if you will.” I whisper at her ear. My cock is aching to be inside her mouth.

“Returning the..." Her words break off into a cynical laugh. She spins around to face me. “Sorry. I’m going to have to politely decline your offer. After all you’ve done to me, I don't owe you any favors."

My jaw drops. I can’t help it. “What? Are you saying I haven't earned it?” I motion toward the conference table where I just tongued her to a shaking orgasm.

She snorts derisively.

“Fine. I’ve been a jerk to you but I put in a lot of work tonight. That has to count for something, right?” I run my fingertips down her side, tickling her softly.

She squirms at my touch. “Not by a fucking long shot, Kline." That sassy light is back in her eyes but there’s a playfulness now, too. A playfulness that definitely wasn’t there at the chapel. She’s trying to push my buttons. Deliberately.

“Tell me what I’ve got to do…” I can’t believe the words I’m uttering. Since when do I beg? Since when am I so invested in making a woman want me? “Tell me what I’ve got to do to make you stay the night…”

She brings her index finger to the corner of her mouth, pretending to be lost in thought. “Maybe another orgasm. Or two.”

Emitting a long suffering sigh, I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder. “Fine. If that’s what it takes to make you stay, Mrs. Kline.” Now, I’m marching toward my bedroom. “Because I can't let you leave here. Not until you get your restitution."