“I told them. I’m not sure what reception I’ll get when we arrive, but there will be no shocks.”
Panic welled inside her. How the hell was she going to face her family? After all the years of hearing them say what a bastard Michael Furie was, and for her to end up married to him…oh God! She would never hear the end of it.
A lean hand wrapped itself around hers where it rested on her lap, twisting her teal pantsuit into a wad. She glanced up, and with her free hand dashed away the tears that slid down her face. “My brothers have sworn to rip your throat out. I hope you’re prepared for mayhem…”
“Is that tear for me? You don’t want to see my mangled body lying on the front lawn?” His voice was deep and gruff.
She drew a deep, shivery breath, and sniffed. Was it for him? Or was it for herself? How could she face her family when she was married to a man simply for his convenience? No white wedding. No big reception. No family breakfast. Of course, her dad would be thrilled that he’d been saved the huge expense of a wedding. But her mother had been cheated out of the fun of helping plan her only daughter’s trousseau.
Oh well. Maybe after her boss got tired of her, and divorced her, she could have the next wedding the way her mom had always planned. She drew a shivery breath, and then gasped aloud as her boss/hubby slipped a long arm around her and drew her into his chest in an almost comforting manner. “Relax. Somebody might think you don’t even like me, Furie.” His voice was a soft growl close above her ear, and she closed her eyes and buried her face against the warm, delicious skin of his throat.
“I hate you.” She breathed wearily.
“No, you don’t.” His chin rested on the top of her head, and she could feel it when he kissed her tousled hair.
“I want to hate you,” she amended as a shiver of reaction ran along her nerves at the touch of lean fingers slipping inside the neckline of her blouse to trace over the swell of her breast.
“We have half an hour before we arrive. Will that be enough time to convince you that you don’t hate me?” His lips caressed the nerve at the base of her ear, and she whimpered.
“Stop kissing me.”
“Okay,” he whispered huskily, and instead, he licked the vein that ran from her throat to her collarbone.
“Oooh,” she moaned, and shoved at his head without much effect. “I don’t want you touching me.”
Her voice sounded oddly breathless, despite her words. And every thought of rejecting his touch left her as he ran his mouth from her collarbone to her lips and took her mouth with a ferocity that stunned her. Every inch of her skin ached to be touched. Every private place in her body yearned to be invaded. And as his hands slipped under her blouse, and into her waistband, she melted into his kiss, unable to refuse him anything.
Mike wanted nothing more than to strip her bare and lick every inch of delicious skin within reach, but he knew that there was not enough time to do her justice. Amazed by his own need to taste Jill, he slid her blouse away from her breasts and licked and nipped them through the lace and satin of her bra. He dragged one satin-tipped nipple into his mouth and she groaned with pleasure as he slipped his hand farther into her slacks until his fingertips found the wet jewel he sought. His thoughts deserted him completely as he drove two long fingers deep into her hot, tight pussy, and massaged the sweet spot he knew would bring her to climax.
She arched into his hand as he used his tongue to simulate what his fingers were doing, and she sucked his tongue deep as she splintered into a shuddering, trembling orgasm that almost made him come in his slacks. He continued to fuck her sweet pussy with his fingers until she whispered raggedly, “Oh God, Mike. You’re killing me.”
He stopped moving his hand. Had she actually just called him by his name? He gave her clit a long, loving caress as he drew his wet fingers out of her and gently fondled her nub and labia, teasing until she gave a strangled cry and convulsed once again in a gasping, moaning climax.
“Are you sure you still hate me?” He reached up and gently tugged the ivory stick from her loosened hair, letting it fall in glorious tumbled curls around her flushed face.
“Yes…no…I don’t know!” Her sighing breath warmed his throat, and he chuckled as he drew his hand out of her slacks and wiped his glistening fingers with his pristine pocket handkerchief. He grinned at her pink face as he slowly inhaled her scent from the hanky before tucking it back into his breast pocket.
“How about helping me out, Furie?” His lips caressed her forehead, and she swallowed hard, then unzipped his slacks and tugged his swollen, thick cock free of his silk boxers and the fly of his slacks. “Sweet Jesus!” he groaned, and watched his wife slide to the floor of the rear seat and take him into her hot mouth without a moment’s hesitation. “Oh, you beautiful thing, you…” He ran his fingers through her thick curls, and closed his eyes as she devoured his shaft, her tongue licking the thick vein on the underside as she sucked him hard and deep.
Oh yeah, he had no intention of letting her go-ever.
Jill was shocked at herself. All it took to make her forget everything was a great orgasm. And the man could give her orgasms by the bushel. And he seemed to love doing it. As she zipped his slacks back up, and glanced in embarrassment up into his dark blue gaze, she wondered if she had always been a closet nympho, or if he brought that out in her. He smiled and pulled his hanky out of his pocket, and gently dabbed the side of her mouth to mop up a bit of cum that hadn’t managed to go down her throat. And for just that moment, the tender look in his gaze almost undid her resolve to walk away from him. He was looking at her as if he cared for her.
“I must look a total mess,” she breathed as she sank back onto the luxuriant leather of the seat and tucked her blouse back into her slacks.
“You look good enough to eat.”
“Oh please. Stop. You don’t need to pretend until we’re in front of my family.” Her voice shook. “I have to admit, Michael Furie, you are enough to drive a female insane with delight, but we both know you only married me to keep me from quitting my job, so keep the sweet nothings to a minimum.”
The quiet smile curving his decadent mouth was almost enough to make her forget her resolve to keep him at arm’s length for the rest of their time at her parents’ home. The limo was slowing and turning, and she chewed her lower lip to control its shaking. “Please…just please don’t start anything up with my brothers. I don’t want you torn to pieces. After all, you have to support me.”
“I won’t start anything. Unless they force me to finish something, there will be no violence.” His voice was amused.
“This isn’t funny. I’m freaking out here. My family has always detested you for the way you have treated me over the past few years…”
“You mean, I have mistreated you by paying you double what you would have earned elsewhere? By letting you have free run of my corporate holdings and my personal jet and making certain that your health insurance and dental insurance was the best money could buy?” His brows lifted questioningly.
Her face hot, she glared at him. “No…I mean, the way you call me at 3:00 a.m. to tell me you need me to get out of bed and go rescue you from some piranha in a hotel room by pretending to be your wife…” She gritted her teeth. “Or how you simply ‘forget’ that I have a birthday party scheduled and demand my presence in Aspen to rescue your sorry ass from a sweetie you referred to as ‘Miss Fashion Model Barbie’…”
His deep laugh was the last straw for her shredded nerves. Her hand shot out and should have connected smartly with his smiling mouth…except all of a sudden she was flat on the leather seat, her arms held firmly behind her back, and his narrowed gaze pinning her. He shook his head slowly, those sapphire eyes sparkling with dangerous intent. “Oh no…no slapping or biting, darling. You can scream and yell at me later, but we don’t want to spoil your birthday party with a cat fight, do we?”
“Oh…you…” she spluttered helplessly.
“I always knew there was a hellcat inside that cool, unflappable exterior, darling…but save it for later, where we can both enjoy taming it.”
“Stop calling me that,” she hissed as he pulled her back into a sitting position as the limo came to a halt.
“Calling you what? Darling? Isn’t that what a newlywed husband calls his wife?” His eyes crackled with enjoyment.
“I don’t believe you, Michael Furie! You are the most…the most…” she sputtered, then instantly composed her features as the driver pulled the door open, and she saw her father and mother standing on the porch of their home, waiting nervously. “I’ll tell you what I think of you later,” she hissed as she smoothed her hair and pasted on a happy smile as she slid from the leather seat and hurried up the steps to hug her parents.
