I pick up the pace, pounding into her now, my fingers digging into her hips to hold her steady, wrapped in the sounds of our ragged breathing and our skin slapping into each other.
She wasn’t kidding about being turned on already, not that there was any doubt in my mind. But she’s coming in almost no time, her pussy squeezing me, her legs trembling against me, a soft cry coming from her lips. I push harder, moving faster, doing my best not to topple us both onto the bed as I fuck her through her orgasm and chase my own.
This woman is undoing me bit by bit, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Electricity zips down my spine, my balls draw up tight, and I follow her over the edge, only my hands on her hips keeping her from flopping onto the bed.
I hold myself deep inside her as the last of my aftershocks fade away, and when I withdraw, we’re both trembling and barely able to stay upright. “God, I want to kiss you so bad right now,” I say as she reaches down and pulls up her panties.
She raises a hand to my face, and I capture it with mine and kiss her wrist.
“Thank you,” she whispers, locked in the moment with me.
But then it’s over, and PA Viola is back in the house. “Now go deal with your condom and straighten up. We’re going to be late.”
Chuckling, I head for the bathroom, tossing out a, “Yes, ma’am,” on my way.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Viola
Walking the red carpet is dizzying. A PR intern shadows us, barking orders at me and pulling me off to the side as the cameras flash and people with microphones stop the guys to answer inane questions.
The guys are in full form, smiling their dazzling smiles, looking beautiful and put together as they loiter in front of the press corps. Marcus answers a question, and they all laugh while I stand off to the side with Kendra, Ava, and Sam.
Kendra sidles up to me. “Deep breaths,” she says, taking one of her own in illustration.
I crack a grin as I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Yeah. Thanks. This is …”
She nods. “Crazy. I know. You’ll get used to it, though. Promise. And that dress is killer. All those cameramen are wondering who you are to be looking so fierce tonight. Why don’t they know your name?”
I glance around, following her pointed gaze, surprised to see several fish-eye lenses pointing our direction. She pats my arms, drawing my attention back to her. “Don’t worry about it too much. It’s part of the deal now. You’ll be fine. And everyone who really knows you knows better than to believe the things written in tabloids anyway.”
I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. “Right,” I croak. “I’m sure they do.”
And while I know she meant the comment to be reassuring, it really just reminds me that I don’t like being the center of attention. The fact that there are photographers paying more attention to me than the beautiful people on the red carpet has me flustered, and I try to shrink behind the other women.
Kendra won’t let me though, putting her arm around me in what appears to be a companionable side hug, but is really intended to force me back into my former position. “Nah-ah-ah,” she chides, a wide fake grin on her face. “No hiding. That’ll only make things worse. They’re like wild animals. Don’t show fear. Don’t turn your back. Otherwise, they’ll rip you to shreds.”
I plaster a smile on my face and nod. “How’d you learn all this?”
She laughs, a light tinkling sound. “Practice. Years and years of practice. I grew up learning to be a socialite, with my sole goal in life to be some high-powered man’s arm candy.” She shrugs one shoulder. “I guess in a way that’s still true, but I also manage Cataclysm’s charitable foundation, so I do more than hang around and dote on Marcus, though from the articles about me in most places, you’d think I’m an empty-headed bimbo only with him for his money.”
Her gaze is sharp when she turns it on me. “The truth doesn’t matter as much as what gets eyeballs on the story. Don’t let whatever ridiculous thing they decide is your story get under your skin. We all know it’s false. Okay?”
I swallow hard again. “Okay. Thanks for the pep talk.”
She gives me one last squeeze before dropping her arm. “Show time. Keep that smile in place.”
And then she floats away from me, her arm slipping through Marcus’s as they exchange a glance so full of love that I feel like an intruder watching. Except there are hundreds of people surrounding us, and the intern is trying to shoo us down the line.
Mason’s arm slips around my waist, and he leans in to give me a kiss on the cheek. I immediately feel better, more grounded, having him here with me. “You holding up alright?”
I turn my smile on him, but for him it’s real, not the fake one Kendra encouraged me to keep on for the press. “Don’t worry about me. I’m here for you, remember?”
This time he kisses me full on the mouth, and even though I should be worried about my lipstick, his kiss is just what I need in that moment. He keeps it brief and G rated, pulling back and looking at me like I’m the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. I don’t think any guy has ever looked at me quite like that before. It’s … extraordinary. And I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve it, but I hope I don’t ever stop.
Soon, though, he concedes to the increasingly urgent hisses of the intern shepherding us down the red carpet. We stop and pose for a few more pictures, our plastic smiles fixed
