Taken off-guard, I don’t expect it when she pulls some jujitsu ninja move, kicking my feet out from under me. I smack my head on the floor as I land on my back and lose my hold on the champagne bottle. The pain in my head is as disorienting as the ninja moves, so the next thing I know Amalie’s straddling my hips.
It’s impossible for my body not to react in ways it really shouldn’t. Amalie’s feminine curves are drool-worthy, and right now that perfect ass of hers is positioned right on top of my cock—my suddenly very achy, aware cock. She shifts back, breaking the cock-ass connection, which is probably a good thing, considering what she’s just told me. I can’t believe the one woman I’ve wanted for the past year but couldn’t have is half-naked on top of me. She’s also just married my cheating dickhead of a cousin. It’s like fate can’t get enough of kicking me in the balls.
When her hands go to the zipper on my pants I’m forced into action. Instinctually, I want to do the exact opposite of what I should. I mean goddamn, she’s trying to get her hand in my pants and I’m compelled to stop her. It’s a damn tragedy happening here.
She slaps my hand away and grabs my tie again. Fisting it close to my throat she leans in, eyes wild, angry and desperate. A sneer pulls up the corner of her pretty mouth. “You’re going to let me fuck you and you’re going to like it.”
I’m so goddamn hard right now and those words only serve to make it worse, or better, depending on how one looks at it. And yes, I fully agree with that statement: If she fucked me right now I am positive I would like it, a lot. Maybe more than any other sex I’ve had with any other woman because she is the ultimate in forbidden temptations. But it’s a really bad idea. And I’m pretty sure she’ll regret it two minutes after it’s over. Or maybe even while it’s happening.
Despite knowing this, despite being aware that I must stop her, I hesitate. It makes me a very bad person for those suspended seconds.
In that brief time I consider a number of things, such as how this is a messed-up situation. One where I recognize that having sex with my cousin’s brand-new, jilted wife is a colossally bad plan. Because it is. Even if he doesn’t deserve her and never did.
But, for a protracted moment I consider how this would be the most epic fuck-you to Armstrong, ever. And if anyone deserves it, he does. I shake that asshole thought, because as fun as it would be, I’m not like him. I’d never use someone, especially a woman already on the receiving end of his bullshit, as part of a game.
As this blows through my brain, Amalie grasps my chin, fingernails biting into the skin, and her mouth descends on mine. Her lips are soft, warm, but her mouth is hard, aggressive. Jesus. It appears she’s actually serious about fucking me. She does this thing with her tongue that makes my cock kick . . . and then her free hand edges between our bodies again, gliding down until she’s palming my desperately excited erection through my pants.
That’s when I take action to stop this madness. Clamping an arm around her waist I flip her onto her back. The floor is hardwood and slippery, making it difficult to find any traction.
I fight to get her hand away from my cock, which works, but then she hooks her legs around my waist.
“Amalie, stop!” I groan around her tongue. It’s not the most convincing of attempts. It’s actually pretty poor. She’s like a koala, with the way she’s wrapped around me. Flipping her over may have made it worse.
“You don’t want me to stop. I can feel how much you want to fuck me.” She rolls her hips, as if to prove her point.
She’s right. But if I do this I’m just as bad as Armstrong. I might want her, but I don’t want to hurt her in a bid for the revenge he seems to seek on me endlessly.
I push up with the intention of righting myself, turning my head when she goes for my mouth again. She latches onto my neck instead, bites me, and sucks. That’s definitely going to leave a mark. Probably a big one.
She scrambles to maintain her hold, legs tightening on my waist. She could crack nuts with her inner thighs. “Goddammit! You have to! You want to! Why won’t you just take me?” Her rage melts in to a broken sob. “Please, Lexington. I hate him. I don’t understand. Make it stop.”
And that’s the moment the door slams open.
Three: OMG
Amie
“Holy mother of what the fuckicles! Bane, do not let anyone in here,” Ruby pushes him back through the door, then slams it shut, throwing the lock. Her eyes are saucers. It’s understandable.
I’m still wrapped around Lexington. Still trying to get him to have sex with me, and he’s desperately trying not to. And now I’m crying. Sobbing actually. I’m positive I’m having some kind of mental breakdown. On my best friend’s boyfriend’s brother of all people. And I thought Armstrong getting a blow job from not-me was as bad as it could get. Obviously I was wrong.
Ruby stalks across the room, hissing in an angry whisper. “What in the ever-loving hell are you doing, Lex!” She punches him in the back and shoulder, aiming for places where my body parts are not latched onto him.
“It’s not how it looks.” He scrambles to get up, but I’m still clinging like plastic wrap. I can feel his hard-on—thick and ready against me. It’s clear he likes what he sees, if he’d just given me what I wanted then maybe I wouldn’t feel so empty of everything.
Even as I think it I know it doesn’t make any sense. That my actions come from a place of devastation and desperation. I’m so angry and hurt. I feel broken and lost, stupid and embarrassed. There isn’t any one emotion I can hold on to that fits right now.
“Amie, you need to let go of Lex,” Ruby says softly. As if she’s talking to someone teetering on the edge of reason. Which is about right.
I shake my head even though I know I should do what she says. I’m just humiliating myself even more right now, but letting go means seeing his reaction to my loss of sanity and I’m not ready for that yet. Lexington shifts until he’s on his knees. He’s stopped trying to pry me off. In all honesty, he might need a crowbar. If I hold on to him long enough maybe he’ll just absorb me and I’ll disappear. Yet another strange and implausible thought, proving all rationality has completely evaporated. They’re whispering back and forth, the words not really registering through the haze of pain and anger that’s consuming me.
“Oh my God. Amie, honey, what happened to your dress?” Ruby asks.
“She cut herself out of it.” One hand leaves my body for a second, so I assume he’s gesturing to the pile of satin, lace, and beads I left behind in my transformation from bride to mostly naked crazy person.
There’s a deep inhale followed by a beat of silence, during which Lex’s palm moves up and down my back. It feels nice. Calming. I want it to go on forever and ever. I want him to reach inside my heart and have the same effect on the ache in there.
“Right. Wow. I’m not sure how I missed that. Okay. I guess a robe will have to do for now. She can change on the way home.”
Soft fabric is draped over my shoulders and I shudder at the sensation.