A Very Dirty Wedding (50 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Gaige

A nearly thirteen hour flight back to Dallas and I've been on an internet blackout, of my own choosing.  Before I even left Narita airport in Tokyo, my phone had been buzzing with text after text from people who'd seen the stupid story about Delaney and me on some gossip website.  I'm sure that was all Chelsea's doing; the first call she probably made after quitting Marlowe Oil was a tabloid.

When I started getting texts before boarding the plane, I read the first message, a "holy shit" text from one of the guys on my team, followed by a snarky one from an old booty call.  Then I shut off my phone and spent the entire flight
not
checking my email and
not
logging into the internet.  Instead, I alternated between lying in my seat
not
sleeping and thinking of Delaney and watching shitty movies and thinking about Delaney.

Beau hadn't responded to my email when I woke up this morning.  So when I get to Delaney's house, I could very well be walking into a fucking war zone.

The concierge at the hotel said Delaney flew back to Dallas, so at least that's something.  She didn't go straight to Manhattan.  Of course, that doesn't mean she's going to stick around in Texas at all.

I can't even imagine what Anja is going to say.  This will confirm everything she's ever thought about me and the giant train wreck I am.  I can picture her reaction now:  "First, racing that stupid motorcycle of yours, and now this?  Screwing your own sister?  I knew you were white-trash, just like your father."

I don't even turn on my phone when we land.  I should probably toss it in the trash and save myself from the thousand messages sure to tell me how disgusting it is for me to be screwing Delaney.

When my bag comes around the carousel, I groan.  A big sticker reading "Notice of Inspection" is plastered to the front, and the entire suitcase is held together in the middle with a stretchy elastic cord because the zipper is broken.

Which is perfect, really.  It's the icing on a shit cupcake.

A loud roll of thunder booms outside, a summer storm adding another layer of awesome to this goddamn day.  Rain pours down through the uncovered spaces outside the terminal, and I just don't give a shit that I'm getting drenched as I'm walking down the sidewalk.  Where are the fucking cabs around here when you need one?

A taxi slows down and pulls to the curb, and the driver gets out.  "You're standing in the rain," he points out, not-so-helpfully.

"No shit," I say, handing him my suitcase.  He looks at it distastefully.  So now I'm getting the stink eye from a cab driver.

"Gaige!"  Delaney's voice comes out of nowhere.  I whirl around to see her running down the sidewalk, waving her arms at me like a lunatic. When she catches up to me, she's short of breath.  "We parked right there," she says, pointing to a car ten yards away, its hazard lights blinking.

"What?  We who?"  It's the wrong question to ask, but I'm thrown by the fact that she's chasing me down.

"Daniel," she says. "One of my friends.  He's – " She points to the guy a few feet away, who's wildly brandishing his plaid umbrella and talking loudly to an airport security guard.

"Yes, I
know
this is just an unloading area," he yells.  "I'm not a complete imbecile.  I can read a sign.  My friend is right there and – oh, for shit's sake, I'm not even going to hear anything now."

"What is – who is that?"  I ask.  "I think he's about to assault that guard with his umbrella."

Delaney puts her hand on my chest.  "Stop.  Don't talk," she says.  "I came here to say something.  This is really not the place at all, in the middle of everything, with the fucking rain and this is probably the most unromantic place ever –"

"Look, do you need the cab or not?" The driver interrupts loudly, right at my side.  "The meter's running."

"No!  We do
not
need a cab!" Delaney yells, her voice sharp.  "Will you just give us one fucking second?"

The driver curses at us, and my suitcase lands beside my feet with a thump.

"Oh my God," Delaney says, her voice exasperated.  "I just wanted to say one thing –"

"Lady, if you and your boyfriend are done here, your friend there is about to get your car towed."  The security guard calls over his shoulder

Now the whole situation is starting to become just ridiculous.  Delaney is so clearly infuriated that I can't help but laugh.

Delaney holds up her hand without looking at the security guard. "No," she says.  "I am not done here. 
We
are not done here."

"Delaney, let's go." I put my hands on her arms and attempt to steer her toward her waiting car.

"I read your email to my father," she blurts out.

"You read my email?"

"He gave it to me," she says.  "And he's not going to kill you.  Or me.  I mean, he might kill you, but only if you break my heart."

She's rambling the way she does when she gets nervous, and I'm barely following what she's saying, but it's the most adorable thing I've ever seen.

And then she stops, inhaling deeply before she lets out the words in one giant exhale. 
The
words.  "And I think I'm in love with you.  I
am
in love with you.  I love you."

I don't even wait until she's finished speaking before I bring my mouth down on hers, muting those words.  It's like something out of a damn movie, me kissing her in the rain, her hands on my shirt, pulling me toward her, and we're in our own private world.

At least, we're in our own world for ten fucking seconds before the security guard taps me on the shoulder.  "What does this look like, a hotel?" he asks.  "Get your asses off the sidewalk and get in the car before I have it towed."

Delaney looks back and forth at him and me, her eyes wide, before she bursts out laughing.  "Come on," she says.  "Let's get the hell out of here."

CHAPTER THIRTY

Delaney

"Obviously, you're required to parade him around shirtless."  Daniel turns to me as he sips his margarita.  "It's only fair, since I was the one to drive you to the airport for your dramatic reunion scene."

"Why are you talking about me like I'm not here?  If you want, I'd be glad to take it off right now."  Gaige reaches for the hem of his shirt and fakes pulling it up, flashing a bit of his abs.

"Don't tempt me," Daniel says.  "I have to be good."

"Since when are you good?" I sip my margarita and glance over at Gaige, who smiles back at me, then squeezes my leg under the table.  "You're
never
good."

"Since I have a boyfriend," Daniel says, looking smug as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"What?" I squeal.  "Who is this guy?  When did you start seeing him?  And why didn't you tell me?"

"You're not the only one who can keep a secret, doll," he says.  He breaks out his phone and shows us pictures, and I
ooh
and
ahh
appropriately as I listen to the details about his new love, while Gaige slides his arm around my shoulder.

It feels comfortable, being here with Gaige.  It's only been a week since everything happened, but it feels like Gaige and I have been together forever.

When Daniel stops mid-conversation because the new boyfriend calls him, Gaige leans over and whispers in my ear.  "You're not wearing panties, are you?"

I slap him on the arm.  "It's happy hour," I say.  "I came from the office.  Of course I'm wearing panties."

"Go take them off in the bathroom," he says.

"No," I whisper, glancing at Daniel across the table.  "Stop.  You're being bad."

His warm breath on my ear raises goosebumps on my neck.  "I'm about to be very bad," he says softly.  "Now, get up, go to the bathroom and take off your panties, and bring them to me.  And I'll make you come on the way home."

His words send heat flowing through my body, just like every other time.  "Fine," I say, sliding off my barstool.  Gaige runs his hands along my hips and over my ass, giving it a playful slap.  "We're in public, stop."

He leans in close, his voice gravelly.  "We need to get out of public soon," he says.

"Are you leaving?"  Daniel looks up from his cell phone.

"Restroom," I say.  "I'll be back in a minute."

When I return, I slip my panties into Gaige's pocket and kiss him on the cheek.  He pulls me against him and I can feel his erection through his jeans, begging for my attention.  "We just paid the check," he says.

"Oh my God, you guys are like a couple of teenagers with the kissy face and shit," Daniel says.

"I've been around you and too many of your dates to even listen to you complain," I tell him as we walk out of the restaurant.  "And you're much less tasteful than we are."

"It's true," Daniel says.  "Happy hour next week and I'll bring the new boyfriend?"

"Definitely."

Gaige walks around to the passenger side of his car to open the door for me, but pauses with his hand on the handle.  He spins me around and pushes me roughly up against the side of the car, running his palm down waist and over my hips.  "I want to fuck you right here, right now," he says, his tongue flicking over the sensitive place just below my earlobe.

"In the middle of the parking lot of the restaurant?" I murmur.  "That's not a way for us to stay out of the tabloids."  A few days ago, my father's PR person issued a statement about me and Gaige's relationship, clarifying for the public at large that we had my father's support and that since we weren't actually related and hadn't even grown up together, it was basically a non-issue.  It made a few more tabloids, and a few people stood outside of Marlowe Oil with signs protesting the fact that an "incest-loving" CEO was running the company, but that was pretty much the extent of it.  Still, my father's expressed words were, "Please don't do anything that would cause public scandal for the next few weeks, at least, so I don't end up in an early grave."

And Gaige's hands all over me in the middle of this parking lot where anyone could catch us certainly counts like it would count as causing potential public scandal.

Gaige groans as he steps away from me and opens the car door.  "I won't touch you here," he says. "But this is what's going to happen.  I'm going to put you in this car, and on the way home I'm going to make you come on my fingers.  Then you're going to walk that pretty little ass down to the guesthouse and we're going to finish what never got started in Tokyo.  You're going to drop to your knees before the door even closes, and suck me until I come in that pretty little mouth of yours."

"And then what?"  My heart races, and the throbbing between my legs is already insistent.

He gestures toward the car.  "Sit down, darlin'," he orders.  "I'll tell you on the way home."

Gaige pulls out of the parking lot, but doesn't even wait a moment until he gets started.  "Pull that skirt up over your thighs," he orders.

I raise my eyebrows.  "We're in the middle of town and someone will see what I'm doing," I say.  "Scandal, much?"

"Up your thighs, not over your ass," he says.  "And unbutton your shirt lower.  You look way too professional and I want to be able to see those perky tits of yours."

I unbutton the top two buttons slowly as Gaige weaves in and out of traffic.  "One more," he says, and I comply, feeling incredibly exposed.  My nipples are already hard against the fabric of my lacy bra, and the dampness between my legs is distracting.

"Are you wet?" he asks.

"Yes."  My voice is breathy.  "What do you want me to do?"

"Let me turn off the highway," he says.  He's taking the long way back to my father's house, down windy roads and away from prying eyes.  I relax against the seat as his speed decreases.  Reaching over to me, his hand slides up my thigh until his fingertips touch the crease at the top of my leg.  I pull my skirt up higher, over my ass until my skin is bare against the leather seat. "You got over that not-pulling-up-your-skirt thing fast enough," he says.

"Touch me," I tell him, and he reaches between my legs, moaning when he feels how wet I am already.  Then he takes his fingers away and puts them back on the steering wheel.

"Touch yourself," he orders, and I touch my fingers tentatively to my pussy, sliding them over my clit, already slick with my wetness.  "Spread your legs."

I do what he says, rolling my fingers over my clit as he winds along the road back home.  I close my eyes as arousal rushes through my body.  "Unbutton your shirt," he says, his voice catching, and I glance over to see him looking at me and then back at the road.  I slide my hand between his legs, feeling his hardness.  "Not me.  I want you to make yourself come.  You're going to have my cock in your mouth soon enough."

The words send a rush of wetness between my legs, and I hear myself moan.

"You liked that?" he asks.  "Good.  I want to see your breasts.  Slip your bra down and touch your nipples."

Sliding the fabric of my bra cups lower, I rub my thumb over my already erect nipples, one and then the other, before I can't take it anymore and have to return my fingers between my legs.  "Good," he says.  "That's it.  Touch that perfect pussy of yours.  Slide your fingers inside."

He pauses while I slip two fingers inside me, pressing my palm hard against my clit as I stroke myself.

"Talk to me," I beg.  "Tell me what you're going to do to me."

"I'm going to slap that curvy ass of yours with each step you take back to the guest house," he says.  "Then I'm going to open the door, and before the door shuts, I want you on your knees, do you understand?"

"Yes."  I choke out the word, my fingers lodged deep inside me, palm pressed hard against my clit as I bring myself higher and higher.  I picture Gaige's cock instead of my fingers, and I'm already close to coming.

"I want your warm wet mouth on me, you hear me?  I want your sweet lips around the head of my dick, sucking like the good girl you are," he says.  "Fuck yourself harder with your fingers."

"Gaige, I'm so close, I'm going to come," I moan.

"Come for me, darlin'," he says.  "Come for me just like I'm going to come in that sweet mouth of yours."

His words push me over the edge, and I come with a loud moan.  When I open my eyes, he's already pulled over to the side of the road somewhere, without giving me a chance to recover, and he's out of his side of the car and on my side in a flash.

"Holy shit, Gaige," I say, taking my fingers from between my legs.

"You have me so fucking worked up I can't wait," he says.  He unbuttons his pants and drops them around his hips, stands with his hands on the roof of the car and his body in the passenger side door frame.  "Put your lips on me now, Delaney."

His voice is hard and demanding and my pussy is throbbing as I slide up to meet his cock with my lips.  A long gossamer strand of pre-cum dangles from the tip, and I catch it on my tongue, licking my way over the head of his cock before I envelop him with my mouth.  "Oh, shit, darlin'," he groans.  "I've been waiting for that mouth of yours all day."

His hands are in my hair, pulling at the roots as I suck him, and he forces me down farther on his cock, his movements just the right amount of rough and unyielding.  I can't see is face above the car, and there's something about sucking him off here on the side of the road, without being able to see his face and while anyone who drives by could see him standing casually beside the car, that makes it so unbearably hot.  His balls are heavy and full in my hands, and I know how much he needs to come.

My movements rhythmic, I stroke his length, sucking his cock as I jerk him off into my mouth.  He's hard, his cock throbbing, and I know that he's close by the way he groans my name and pulls at my hair. Sucking him is making me even hotter and I want him inside me.

He yanks my head away from his dick, his grip tight, and groans.  "I'm not coming in your mouth," he says.  "Get your ass up here.  I want to come inside you."

He pulls me to my feet and kisses me hard on the mouth, his hand covering my breast.  "I want you to
really
come inside me," I whisper when he pulls away.

"Shit, don't tell me that," he says, sensing my meaning.  "We haven't even talked about
that
."

"I'm on birth control," I say.  "And we're together.  I'm clean."  I stroke his cock.

"I've been tested," he says, kissing me.  "I'm clean.  Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," I say.  "I want to feel you bare inside me."

"Shit, you are going to fucking kill me," he says.  "You're going to get us arrested out here on the side of the road.  We should go home."

"No one's around here," I say.  "And I can't wait."  I turn around, my hands on the roof of the car, pulling my skirt up to expose my ass, the warm air against my bare wet pussy.

"Oh, hell," Gaige says, and his bare cock pressed against my entrance.  In one thrust he's inside me, filling me up, his hands on my waist, pushing me against his cock.  He talks to me as he thrusts into me.  "Put your fingers on your clit, darlin', and rub it, because your mouth had me so close I'm not fucking waiting."

"Harder," I beg, rubbing myself while he brings me higher and higher, thrusting inside of me with short strokes.  I can feel his bare cock against my walls, and I'm squeezing him with my muscles when he slaps me hard on the ass.

"Shit, darlin', you keep doing that with your pussy and I'm going to come inside you," he warns.

"Oh God."  The idea of Gaige at my mercy nearly brings me to my knees, and I'm already coming before he even gives me permission, the orgasm overtaking me, hard and unexpected.  He grips me, thrusting inside me again and again as he comes, filling me with his warm seed.

Afterward, I'm still throbbing around him when he laughs, pulling out of me and taking his shirt off.  He uses the fabric to wipe between my legs.

"Seriously, Gaige, what are you doing?" I squeal.  "You're going to go through the gate at my father's house shirtless?"

"Better than having you go through the gate with cum dripping down your legs, don't you think?" he asks.  He kisses me on the mouth as he wipes me off, and the act, potentially crude, is somehow incredibly erotic when Gaige does it.  "I spilled my drink; that's my story."

When he's back behind the driver's seat, he looks at me and grins.  "Don't think that just because I bent you over on the side of the road, I'm not going to need to get you in bed just as soon as we walk through the door," he says.