Her Inconvenient Groom by Niomie Roland

Chapter 15

 

“You had no right to do that!” Chantelle railed. “None at all!”

“I had every right,” Dustin replied. “You are my wife.”

He’d decided to drive them both to lunch that day, in Chantelle’s beautiful two-door luxury Fiat. They’d even driven to the restaurant with the top down, as it was a gorgeous sunny day. Now, on the way back, the top was up and the interior of the car was as frosty as the exterior was warm.

The lunch party had broken up awkwardly, with Onyx pouting and whining about Dustin “leading her on” before storming off in her cheap, white, plastic boots. Which made Chantelle wonder exactly what had gone on between them during all those days at the convention, and the evenings of planning sessions for their competition. Not that she really cared, one way or the other. What Dustin did on his own time was none of her business.

Frederic, probably in fear of losing his hand as Dustin had threatened, had immediately released hers, letting her go as if her skin burned. Which made her want to reach across the table and smack Dustin.

She let him know that. “That’s where you’re wrong. I am your wife only on paper. Only as a formality. We agreed. You lay no claim to my body, and you get no say in who I speak to, who I like.”

“You like him?” He sounded incredulous. “That guy?”

“Yes!” she insisted. “He was funny.”

“I could tell by the way you were laughing, twirling your hair and batting your—”

“I do not twirl my hair!” she said hotly. “I am not fifteen!”

“Well, you looked really into him.”

“We had interests in common. And besides, I didn’t care about the fact that you and the Hello Kitty girl were making eyes at each other. I don’t give a damn what you do. Just adhere to the terms of our contract and stay out of my way.”

“I wasn’t making eyes at her,” he contended. “She was making eyes at me.”

“Any idea why that was?”

“I dunno. Charm, good looks, personality….”

“You think highly of yourself.”

“Someone has to.”

If she wasn’t so mad, she would have smiled at this. Because he did have a point. He was the kind of guy that women gravitated toward. Handsome but not pampered, pleasant, easy-going. Chantelle could see why Onyx had been so smitten, but she was good and mad, and wanted to stay that way thus she didn’t let up. “Maybe you shouldn’t have led her on.”

He scoffed. “I thought it was only men who thought that being nice to someone constituted leading them on.”

He was talking sense, and that annoyed her even more, so she dragged the conversation back to a safer place. “Whatever. You went all caveman on me, all ‘hands off my wife’—”

“Which is what a man does when he sees a man pawing his wife at the table—”

“As if Onyx wasn’t clawing at your junk under it!” Chantelle paused for breath, surprised that this man could have gotten her so mad that she could begin spewing invective with such passion. What was it about him that drove her to the edge like this? “Also, let’s not forget that I’m not really your wife!

He smirked.

She went on. “I was enjoying my conversation, and you butted in. He was a nice guy. I was looking forward to spending a nice evening with him.”

He slammed on the brakes, veering off the road onto the verge. “You what? You were planning on sleeping with him?”

After regaining her breath from the minor fright, it took Chantelle a moment to realize Dustin had completely misinterpreted her words and struggled to revise them. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“How would I know it?” Yanking up the emergency brake, he turned to face her. “I know literally nothing about you!”

“Well, I’m not a whore if that’s what you’re inferring from my comment—”

“Nobody called you a whore—”

“It’s written all over your face.”

He blanched as if she really had smacked him. “You don’t mean that,” he said. “Surely you couldn’t believe I would think of you in that way.”

“How would I know,” she mimicked. “I know literally nothing about you!”

“Well,” he said with deceptive softness. “Maybe we should fix that.”

Across the cramped space of the car, which suddenly seemed ridiculously small, Dustin leaned over and kissed her. The last time he’d done so, on their wedding day, she’d been shocked and affronted—although yeah, a little turned on, too.

This time, she had been expecting it. Looking forward to it. Hoping for it. Because immediately she responded, opening her mouth to him, closing her eyes against the eyes that now loomed near hers, in case she spotted a glimmer of ‘I told you so’ within. The stubble he’d trimmed for their wedding had grown back and was rough against her lips. And yet she wanted nothing more than to feel it under her fingers.

Chantelle reached up to stroke his jaw and his hand closed over hers. Probably holding her fingers there in case she tried to pull away.

She breathed out, then in again, shocked by how good he smelled. Amazed by how good he tasted. When he released her hand at last, she let it fall to his shoulders, sliding them along their breadth. He was so toned that his build was deceptive; he gave the appearance of being slender but was in fact solid, dense, and hard.

Her hands traveled to his chest. He was wearing a good quality cotton shirt, the first two buttons undone, and she could feel just a hint of his chest hairs crinkling at the opening. She wanted to feel more, and made haste to pop two, three more buttons, so she could explore him further. Enjoy him more.

And enjoyable he was. His chest was toned and his nipples flat under her fingers, and yet when she scratched one brown tip idly with a fingernail, she felt him suck in a lungful of air.

Sensitive nipples, she thought wickedly, and scratched them again.

“Goddammit,” he muttered.

Then, with easy strength, he lifted her, carefully negotiating the gear lever and emergency brake that was all that stood between them. He hauled her over onto his lap, shooting back the seat to give them room.

She straddled him easily, one knee at each side of his hips. Her jeans-clad thighs clenched as he let his hands fall to her ass, pressing her down so she could feel the ridge that had risen between them. It was thick, and even through the denim she could feel the warmth of his desire.

That ridge connected easily, seamlessly, with the space between her thighs that had begun to ache, and it was only the pressure of him against it, as he lifted his hips to her, that brought her any respite from that ache.

It felt good, but she hated the thought of letting him know how good it felt. Hated the idea that this knowledge would give him power over her. Turning her face away, she squeezed her eyes as if trying to distance her mind from what they were doing. 

He took it as an invitation to flick his tongue against the side of her neck, to nibble and pinch, all the while pressing down on her hips, trying to learn her rhythm as she began to move, vaguely conscious of what she was doing.

It felt good. And the better it felt, the less embarrassed she was, especially when Dustin pressed his mouth to her ear and whispered into the tendrils of hair curling from her temple, “Go for it, beauty.”

Go for it she did, aided and abetted by his strong hands, until the sensation within her grew so great, her internal rhythm so demanding, that he ceased trying to guide her, and instead just let his hands rest upon her body as it tensed.

Down and down and hard against that rigid bump, which seemed to throb in answer to her own vibrating body. Down and harder and harder… and yet the respite she sought eluded her.

There was pleasure, almost too much of it. But she couldn’t reach what she was straining for.

This didn’t surprise her, because she never had. Never in her life had she achieved an orgasm with a man; two fiancés plus a couple of other boyfriends and still nothing.

She knew that the fault lay with her because why else would she be so blighted? Embarrassed, she lifted her face to Dustin’s, expecting to see contempt and derision. Because after all, a woman who couldn’t reach a climax like this was only half a woman.

Instead, his face was aglow, as if he was mesmerized by her, and the fact that she had allowed him this much access. As if touching her had been a great privilege.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

“I’m…” I’m what? She wondered. “Good.”

“Great.” His smile reached all the way to his eyes, where they creased. “I guess now we know something more about each other.”

She had to admit he was right.

He allowed her to ease herself off his lap and slide into the passenger seat. Not ashamed as she had expected to be, but exhilarated. She wondered if he could see the glow that she felt.

“Chantelle?” He called, before buckling up and easing back onto the road.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going back home in a couple of days.”

She gasped. “What?”

He glanced at her sideways. “Convention is over, remember? That was our deal.”

“Oh. Right.” Why did it suddenly seem as if she’d negotiated a rare deal that didn’t go her way?

“Before I go.” Another look in her direction, and then his eyes were back on the road. “If you want more,” he paused to clear his throat. “If you want me and you to fully experience our pleasure—no strings attached—you know where my bedroom is.”

She had no idea what to think or what to say. He was putting it all on her, making the decision hers. Did that make him a good guy or an asshole?

He didn’t ask again. She noticed that the light in the sky was beginning to dim. As the car moved swiftly towards her mansion, she said nothing.

But she was thinking.