I took leisurely strolls through the parts of the cities I hadn't gotten to see when I'd been modeling, appreciating the architecture and the history. I visited art galleries and museums, letting the beauty stimulate my own creativity. I went into all of the best shops, loving that I was able to not only browse, but buy. I was conservative when it came to my wardrobe, but Blayne had insisted I buy whatever I needed and make sure that it was pricey. I'd protested until he'd said his father would never believe a woman could go to any of these places and not shop, especially on her honeymoon. The only thing he'd said I had to buy for appearance sake was lingerie. I'd done as he asked and found myself even enjoying that even though I knew no one would be seeing these particular items.
I called Katka every night in London, but then stopped when it became clear all she was going to do was ask what Blayne was doing. Was he hitting on me, pressuring me into sex? When I said no, she'd ask if he was cheating on me. I finally told her that if she couldn't refrain from being rude, I wouldn't call her. I knew she didn't think I'd stop, but I did. I had work to do and beautiful places to see. It pained me to not speak with her, but she had to respect my choice.
As for Blayne, I didn't know where he was or what he was doing, but he always came back to the room at night, never tried anything and was pleasant to be around when he was there. I had to trust that he wouldn't do anything stupid. I had my fifty thousand dollar check and no matter what happened, that was mine. I was looking forward to the rest of the money over the years, but in reality, he stood to lose a lot more than I did if he screwed things up. I would play my part and I believed he would play his. We would make this work.
Chapter 13
Blayne
Those were the two longest weeks of my life.
London, Madrid, Paris and Venice. All gorgeous places with beautiful people. Exquisite food. Fine weather. I had a gorgeous wife, been on my honeymoon and stayed in the finest hotels some of Europe's best cities had to offer.
And I'd been miserable.
It wasn't Livie's fault. She was just as nice as I'd thought she was. She never complained that we didn't go out together. Never nagged me to take her sight-seeing or buy her things. She'd gone clothes shopping like I'd told her to, but I'd seen the bags and checked the account online. She hadn't even come close to what most women would've spent when not given a spending limit. I had to admit, I was a little curious to know what she'd bought at some of the lingerie stores. I was only human, and she was hot.
I'd actually considered spending more time with her, getting to know her. We were going to be living together for the next three years and would have to pretend to be a real married couple, after all. I hadn't realized just how little I still knew about her until I saw her with a sketchpad and didn't know why she had it. It had taken me a couple hours thinking about it to figure out that she was probably using it to design clothes. She'd said she wanted to start a fashion business. I hadn't realized she drew things old school.
No, I'd spent my two weeks in Europe with my former model wife in the hotel gym and pool. I hadn't been able to get laid, so I'd needed some sort of physical activity to burn off the sexual tension that just kept growing. I hadn't had sex in three weeks, not since the stripper the night everything went to hell. The moment I'd told my father that Livie and I would be getting married, I'd known he'd have people watching me. Dad had eyes everywhere, some paid, some who just wanted to get in good with him. Worst were the ones who were loyal, who saw me as big of a disappointment as everyone else did. Being out of the country didn't matter either. The hotels had been paid for by my parents. A wedding gift, they'd claimed, but I'd known better. Dad had connections that would make sure that even the slightest hint of impropriety would get back to him.
I was sure my father would have a few choice things to say to me regarding the fact that I'd spent most of my time away from my new wife rather than going around the city with her, but it hadn't violated our agreement, so he couldn't cut me off. What I had needed to avoid was other women and alcohol. Granted, he hadn't completely vetoed drinking, just me doing stupid things, but I'd known that drinking while in Europe was a bad idea. There were far too many hot women and I'd known that if I drank just a little too much, I'd hit on someone, we'd end up back in her room and my dad would get a report.
So I'd lifted weights. I'd run. I'd spent hours swimming laps.
And I'd taken quite a few long showers and tried to give myself some stress relief.
It wasn't until we'd been back for a full day that I realized there was something else Livie and I hadn't talked about that we needed to.
Sex.
Obviously, I knew sex was off the table with Liv.
And my brain automatically went to images of sex on a table with Livie. Those long legs. Curls spread out beneath her head.
Fuck.
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. This is exactly why I needed to talk to her about sex.
There was no way in hell I was going three years without sex. Drugs, I could do without. It had actually been easier than I'd thought to stop the drugs. Actually, there really didn't seem to be a point to the drugs without the sex or the drinking. I basically used the drugs as a supplement to partying, and if I wasn't partying, what was the point? Getting pass out drunk wasn't something I was really going to miss either. I rarely wanted to forget. It was, again, more of hanging out with my friends and going to clubs. I'd never been a stay at home and drink kind of guy.
I couldn't go that long without sex. I didn't know many people who could, and definitely not someone who hadn't gone more than a couple days without getting laid since losing his virginity at fifteen. I knew there was no way my father would relent on the no cheating thing, and I supposed I could try to seduce Livie, but she seemed too nice for that. Well, too nice and I didn't think sleeping with my wife was a good idea.
I snorted a laugh. There was a sentence I'd never thought I'd hear, let alone think.
What I meant was that I didn't think it'd be a good idea to try to get in Livie's pants when there was a possibility that things could go badly. Sex with her didn't seem like it'd be worth the risk. She could get pissed at me afterwards and want to end things. Then again, if my dad caught me cheating, I could lose everything anyway.
I could find a way around this.
I picked up my phone and texted Livie. She'd gone out to do something this morning even though it was a weekend, but I didn't know what. I had a feeling it was business, not pleasure. Even the little bit I knew about Liv, I knew she was a seriously focused woman. Eventually, I'd need to know what she was focused on, and maybe I'd ask her tonight. After we came up with a plan that kept us both from spending the next three years getting ourselves off.
I didn't want this to be a discussion we had here. It would be awkward enough discussing having sex with other people. I didn't want to do it in the place we were living. Besides, it would probably be a good thing for my dad's spies to see Liv and me together in public, and I really wanted to go to a club.
I'd originally thought I'd need to talk her into it, but I got a text back fairly quickly saying she'd meet me at a club for drinks. Maybe, I thought, now that she wasn't tending bar, she'd be more likely to relax at one. Maybe the realization that she didn't have to worry about saving money for her business would make her more likely to have fun.
I got to the club first and took a table at the back. Hopefully, anyone reporting to my dad would think I was trying to be romantic. I figured it would be easier for us to have a private discussion if we looked like we were being cute newlyweds.
I was skimming the crowd, looking for her, when I did a double-take. I'd actually missed her the first time because the woman walking toward me wasn't the buttoned-up serious bartender I'd met a couple weeks ago. Her dress was modest by club standards, but she looked good in it. A deep green that matched her eyes and a neckline that gave her just a hint of cleavage. She always dressed well, but this was the kind of outfit t
hat made heads turn. It helped that she had her hair down, her curls tousled and wild.
“Liv,” I called out, waving her over.
She smiled at me, a wider smile than I'd seen.
“Good evening, Blayne.” She slid into the seat next to me. “Have you ordered drinks yet?”
I raised an eyebrow. “What would you like?”
“Surprise me.”
And that was how it started.
Over the next couple drinks, I brought up the subject of hook ups. Surprisingly, she was pretty easygoing about the idea. We nursed our drinks, letting the alcohol ease the tension until it became a moot point. It certainly made it much less difficult to set up some basic rules for either of us having some 'social time’.
No bringing anyone back to the penthouse. That was home.
No actual relationships while we were still married. Way too many complications.
And, of course, be discreet. We couldn't go out on public dates or be out dancing with strangers. No checking into hotels with our real names or credit cards. We would, essentially, be having affairs, but it wasn’t each other we would be hiding them from. We didn't have to talk about them, but we didn't have to deny them either.
“Sex only,” she said. Her words weren't slurred, but the edge that she usually had was gone. “I can, as they say, get on board with that.” Her fingers brushed against mine as she reached for a pretzel.
Shit. Was she flirting with me? What had happened to her whole 'no physical contact' stance?
I reached out and let my fingers touch hers, and held them there, waiting for her to be the one to pull away. Her eyes flicked down to our hands and then back up to me. She smiled, a slow, sultry smile that made my blood rush south.
Dammit. If I'd known a drink could get her loosened up enough to be like this, I would've had champagne for us both on the plane and more in our suite in London.
I knew I said it would be a bad idea to hook up with my wife, but she was so hot and it had been so long that I couldn't stop myself. I reached out and wrapped my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her toward me. Unlike our first kiss, I didn't hesitate, wondering if it would be okay. This time, I trusted her to push me away if necessary.
And I went for it.
I felt her surprise, her body stiffening for a split second, and then she was kissing me back.
This wasn't some soft, sweet thing, a kiss to satisfy my parents. That hadn't really been a bad kiss, but this was something else. There was fire and heat as she opened her mouth and curled her tongue around mine. The instant she pulled my tongue into her mouth and sucked on it, my cock went from mildly interested to almost painfully hard.
I broke the kiss, but not because I wanted it to stop, but because I wanted more. A hell of a lot more.
“Want to go home?”
Chapter 14
Blayne
She didn't say much on the drive back to the apartment, but the fact that she snuggled up against me and kept her hand on my thigh made me pretty confident that she wouldn’t freak out in a couple minutes and go lock herself in her room.
As soon as we stepped onto the elevator, it took every ounce of my self-control not to grab her and take her right there. I was so hard it almost hurt and I could finally admit to myself how attractive I found her. If I wasn't careful, I would lose it early and completely embarrass myself. I fully intended to make tonight amazing. I had a reputation to keep, after all.
And she wasn't doing a damn thing to help matters either. Running out the tip of her tongue to wet her lips. Leaning against the wall so that she showed off her assets.
I took a step toward her and she shook her head, holding up a single finger. The smile said she wasn't shutting me down, but I glared at her anyway.
“I do not want anyone in the building thinking I am one of those cheap girls you brought home before.”
As we stepped off of the elevator and walked toward the door, I moved so that I was right behind her. When she paused at the door, I slid my arms around her waist and put my mouth to her ear.
“I don't bring girls home.” It was true, technically. I didn't count the handful of times I'd gotten too drunk to remember asking them over. Intent was what mattered... right?
She made a sound that said she didn't quite believe me, but she didn't add anything as I unlocked the door and we walked inside, my arms still around her. As soon as it shut, I spun us around so that her back was against the door. In the dim light, I could only make out the outline of her face, but it was enough for my lips to find her jaw and begin kissing my way toward her mouth.
Her hands ran down my chest and around my back as I pressed my body against hers. I found her bottom lip and gently sucked on it, wondering if it would be too much for the demure woman I knew. She moaned, her hands slipping under my shirt to run over my back.
Apparently not.
She tilted her head, bringing her mouth into direct contact with mine. Her lips molded themselves to match mine, parting to allow my tongue access. Her fingers and nails left trails of fire across my skin as her hands traced patterns on my back.
Damn, the woman could kiss.
I ran my hand down her side to her hip and then further down to lift her leg. I pressed myself against her, wanting her to understand exactly what she was doing to me.
She tore her mouth away from mine and said a single word. “Bedroom.”
I was tempted to scoop her up in my arms and carrying her, but I didn't want to risk doing anything that would spoil the moment. I was already surprised at how she was responding to me and if there was anywhere to be cautious, it was at a moment like this. I took her hand and led her to my room. I supposed we could've gone to the guest room she was using, but I didn't know if she had any condoms back there and once we got started, I didn’t want to stop.
Considering Livie was already tugging at my shirt before we'd made it to the room, I felt it safe to say she didn’t want to stop either. My shirt landed in the doorway and her hands were on my pants. I let her unbutton them, but grabbed her wrist before she could slide her hand inside.
“Let's get you out of that dress first,” I said. I heard the strain in my voice. As much as I wanted her hands on me, I knew if she kept going, this would be over far too soon.
She turned and raised her hair so I could unzip her. I was tempted to do it slow, expose each inch of creamy skin bit by bit, but I wasn't in a patient mood. She let the dress fall and stepped out of it, leaving her clad in a matching set of plain, but still sexy, black silk panties and bra.
“It is your turn.” Her voice had a teasing note.
I grinned at her, happy to oblige. I made short work of the pants, kicking them off along with my shoes. I paused, letting her get a good look at me in nothing but a pair of increasingly tight gray boxer-briefs. The heat in her eyes said she liked what she saw, and then she was reaching behind her and unfastening her bra.
“Shit,” I muttered as she freed her breasts. My original suspicions were confirmed. Those were definitely real. And perfect. Her nipples were slightly darker than her hair, and they were just as perfect as the rest of her.
I closed the distance between us, needing to touch her. I cupped her breasts, one in each hand, and they fit perfectly. I used my thumbs to circle her nipples, then lowered my head to take one into my mouth. I heard her gasp as my lips closed around the sensitive flesh and I began to suck. I alternated suction and flicking my tongue across her nipple until it was hard and then I turned my attention to the other. Livie was murmuring words under her breath that I assumed were in her native language. I just hoped they meant she liked what I was doing.
I dropped my hand down between her legs, sliding my fingers across the soft material of her panties. She moaned, her hips moving in an unconscious attempt to get more friction. The crotch of the garment was already damp. I slipped my fingers underneath, letting my index finger trace along her slit.
Then, suddenly, we were tumbling onto the bed a
nd I was landing on my back, Livie on top of me. I stared up at her for a moment, surprised by her actions, and then she was moving down my body, pulling off my underwear, and I forgot about everything but the throbbing shaft begging for attention.
She leaned down and ran her tongue along the tip of my cock. I made a sound in the back of my throat. I desperately wanted her to take me in her mouth, but I waited for her to take the initiative. My head fell back against the mattress as Livie wrapped her lips around my cock and began to lower her head.
My fingers curled into fists, bunching my bedspread as the soft wet heat of her mouth engulfed me. She wrapped a hand around the base of my shaft, the part that she couldn't get in her mouth, and began to stroke me in time with the movements of her head. When her other hand cupped my balls, I swore. She'd seemed like such a quiet and reserved person. Where the hell had she learned to do these amazing things with her mouth and hands?
After what felt like an eternity, and just before I’d have to warn her that I needed a break or I would come, she released me. I let out a breath, my body screaming in protest. I ignored it and sat up. I would return the favor while I gave my overeager dick some time to settle down.
I pulled Livie back up into the center of the bed. “My turn,” I said as I hooked my fingers under the waistband of her panties and pulled them off. She wasn't completely bare, but the pale curls were thin, doing nothing to hide my goal. I spread her legs and then stretched out between them.
I planted kisses along the insides of her thighs, enjoying the frustrated mewling sounds she made as I teased her. I couldn't believe how responsive she was. I started with a chaste kiss that quickly became more passionate. My tongue slipped between her folds, dancing across her flesh until I found the bundle of nerves I wanted. I used my fingers to hold her open and then dove in.
“Prosím, víc!”
I had no idea what that meant, but considering her hands were gripping my hair and holding me against her, I figured it was a good thing. I slid a finger inside her, marveling at how tight and wet she was. She cried out, pushing her hips down against my finger and then up against my mouth.