Taming Alaska (So Not Prince Charming Book 1) (8 page)

Why is he working on that now? “Dad, are you okay?”

“
Mi hermosa hija
.” He gives me a tired smile. “I’m fine.”

“What are you doing?”

“
Nada
. Don’t you worry. I have some work to attend to, but I’ll be out in a moment to toast your happiness.” He gives me one of the exhausted looks Mom used to give me.

Maybe she’s right about money and men. Taking care of all the estate has dragged him down.

“Are you sure?” I don’t want to leave him here with the stack of papers on his desk when I could do it pretty quickly. “I could help you.”

“I’m fine.” He waves me off. “Run along. It’s your day, Princess.” Unlike Shane, the nickname doesn’t sound snarky coming out of Dad’s mouth.

That’s when my drug lord uncle presses his warm hand onto my shoulder almost causing me to have a heart attack.

“
Tio
,” I say, sounding more startled than I should. Unlike Fay, I wouldn’t have invited this man.

“Congratulations.” He kisses my hand, sending a ripple of creepy goosebumps up my arm. “If you don’t mind, Cynthia, I’d like to speak to your father in private.”

I know I should stay and listen to give my dad advice, but he nods at me to leave, so with great hesitation, I do.

In the guest room where I dressed earlier today, I hear the murmurings of lovemaking. I peek into the room where Fay and, oh sweet goodness, Trevor are locked in an amorous embrace. Wait until she sleeps with him. She’s in for a surprise.

I scoot past them before either sees or hears me snickering. Maybe, I shouldn’t have left her in charge of the guests.

In the sunroom, cluttered with linen-covered tables and deck chairs for the reception, Blake’s laughing and chatting with one of the waiters, a very cute one, nice firm butt, muscular build, not one of his lemon-yellow hairs out of place. Too pretty for me. His hand cups Blake’s elbow while he leans into him, a tad too friendly, but Blake pulls back from him, chuckling politely.

What Shane said a month ago comes to mind, slightly rattling me. I’ve already proven Blake is far from gay. He’s always ready for me in bed. He just hasn’t done it for me yet, so there must be something wrong with me that a man that sexy hasn’t made me scream out an orgasm. It’ll happen. It has to.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, joining them.

The waiter hangs his head before I get a good look at him and scurries away to hand out hors d'oeuvres. He must worry that he’ll be fired for neglecting his duties.

Blake kisses my forehead. “Nothing that would interest you, my pet.”

Okay, I’m not your dog. He better stop that immediately.

I quickly forget his condescending name for me when his smooth hands brush against my arms. I love that he takes care of himself, and that he’s refined and that his touch jolts me fully awake, making me feel alive.

I tug on Blake’s hand. “I have a surprise for you.” This will make us both happy.

He follows me into the bride’s chambers. “I love surprises.”

My arms encircle his neck and rest on his broad shoulders. I press my breasts against the solid slab of chest muscles. Married at last, and now for the big O. It’s my time. I grope his penis and balls, and he squeezes his eyes shut and groans. His cock immediately stands erect for me. He’s so not gay.

“We don’t want to mess up your dress for the wedding photos,” he says, giving me a sly smile, his teeth tugging on my lip. The seductive action of his tongue sends a shot into the dark places of my sex.

“Please,” I beg, licking my lips. I hate to plead, but desperation rears its ugly head. I’ve been close enough to taste fulfillment. I just need a little push to send me tumbling over the edge.

A wicked smile lifts one end of his kissable lips. “Anything for you, my darling.”

Better than pet.

Blake slides his hands underneath my dress, along my thighs, and yanks down my panties. His fingers glide along my slit, moistened and hot. “You are so ready, as usual, Mrs. Waits.”

I smile at my new name.

He lifts my arms, shackling them one-handed against the wall. His lips press against mine while his other undoes his buckle and zipper. There’s no mistaking his eagerness or mine. I love this man.

His hand skates along my big booty. I don’t have a skinny one like my blonde sorority sisters.

He grabs a handful of its flesh, and his kneading spikes the temperature between my thighs to its boiling point. “We could break in your beautiful ass.”

My sorority sisters love anal sex. I’m not quite ready, not until my vagina shudders out an orgasm. “Not yet.”

Using his teeth, Blake tears open a condom package and slips the latex on. I tug out his shirt from his cummerbund and slide my hand under to feel the silky curls on his chest and the abs sculpted from hours at the gym.

He moans and mumbles my name. My tongue explores his full lower lip then trails up to his ear. He laughs, forcing my hand onto his erection as he presses it inside me.

I could use a little more foreplay here.

As the rhythm of him pulses against me, my nerves light on fire. Almost there, almost, almost. His cock jerks and releases, and once again, I’m left hanging. I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh God. This is completely unfair.

“You didn’t come this time,” Blake says, disappointment shadowing his eyes.

I have never come, not once. He doesn’t need to hear my problems, not on our perfect day. I’m good at faking it. My friends said it would happen after I got married to the man I love. They swore it would. A pout pulls down my lips.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, kissing me. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. We need to join the reception before they miss us. I’ve already been given grief by my groomsmen for disappearing to be with you. I love you, Mrs. Waits.”

The words temporarily soothe me, but I hang back, sexual frustration welling up inside me.

Blake wipes a tear from my eye. “Aw, honey. Don’t be upset. You’ve always enjoyed it before.”

Shall I tell him now? No. It’s our wedding day. “Tonight, sex on the plane?”

He reaches for my hand. “I swear I’ll make it up to you. Come on. Let’s join our guests.”

Blake stares at me with those sterling blue eyes, his lashes so thick they feather my face when he presses his cheek against mine.

Tahiti, Seychelles, Fiji. Where is he taking me on our honeymoon? His family could afford to sweep us off to anywhere.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” I don’t follow him into the ballroom where many of the guests await. Instead, I step outside through the French doors but only after slipping my panties on and checking my dress and makeup.

The warm air caresses my skin. I take off my heels, lift the hem of my dress, and dangle my feet in the tepid pool water. Most everyone is inside in the air-conditioning. I’d love to put on my bikini and jump in. I close my eyes, imagining our honeymoon on a tropical beach and us practically naked, and the length of his erection rubbing against the satiny folds between my legs. I just have to think positively. It’ll happen.

I inhale the intoxicating scent of roses that my father has nurtured in Mom’s gardens where a statue of Saint Christopher watches over the blooms. Dad says the patron saint will keep us safe.

“What the fuck?” a deep resonant voice that can only belong to Shane O’Flannery says.

I jump at the bark of his voice, ruining my moment of peace. I hate him. I hate Nikita. Why didn’t they just leave?

Turning around, I spot Nikita Harper arguing with Shane at the other end of the pool. I don’t get her. She wanted a rich man, and Shane has loads of money now, not to mention his rockin’ hard body.

Now if she could teach him table manners, clean him up a bit, and housebreak him, she may be able to salvage him.

I wiggle my butt uncomfortably, recalling the saw-offed shotgun in his jeans and reminding me of my constant sexual frustration. His kiss still lingers on my tongue, so I hate him and the blonde he dates.

Shane gets up, knocking over a deck chair and shaking a fist at her. Go ahead hit her. I want to watch. Ever since I dyed my hair blonde, Nikita has called me a cheap knockoff of her. Bitch.

Not to mention the time she gave a pole dance at a sorority party to my old boyfriend and slept with him before we broke up while she was dating Shane. Did she honestly think Shane repaid her debt by giving me a lap dance for my birthday? It was pretty good though. My sex throbs thinking about him rubbing Secretariat against my thigh.

Panting while my breasts tingle and my clit aches, I should find my husband and seduce him again. It’ll work this time. Unlike Shane, Blake has it all.

Shane combs his hair with those long, strong fingers of his that I’ve heard from the other sorority sisters is the reason why his jeans hold the Mormon Tabernacle pipe organ. I’ve only bumped up against it while my sisters have seen it firsthand. According to them, he’s quite the exhibitionist in the house shower.

“Honestly Shane, you’re broke,” Nikita says. “You can’t afford to go now.”

What? Please back up. I need to hear this. How could someone spend 500 million in a few short weeks? Even I’m not that good.

“We’ve had this planned for months,” he says. “It’s already paid for. I’ll make the money back when I start a new business. You told me you were coming.”

Don’t grovel, not for her. It’s not you, Shane.

He was a millionaire a week ago—a multimillionaire. What the hell happened? My curiosity spikes, and my ear leans toward them.

“I’m through with you.” Nikita stands and stalks off, her arms swinging and her nose bunched up in a little hissy fit.

Nikita glances my way. Her scowl makes me grin back at her. I wave, get up, and slip on my shoes. She stomps inside, leaving without proper adieus, while poor Shane slumps into a chair and takes a long pull on his beer—unrefined to the core. He should be guzzling down the free champagne like the rest of my guests. Plenty of my sorority sisters would take him home. Gina’s been begging him for years.

Shane doesn’t even once look my way. Instead he peels the label from the beer bottle. I don’t wish him unhappiness. He came to my aid without blinking, but he’s not my worry. This is my day. Though I’d love to know what happened to all those millions, I wander back inside to meet and greet my guests.

The rest of the afternoon goes perfectly without any interruptions from Shane, and Nikita has left the wedding. Blake and I cut the cake. We have our first dance as bride and groom on the dance floor setup on the lawn where a live band plays. I also dance with Dad and Felipe Fuentes at his request. The drug lord dances with his mother and then Maria Fuentes titters away in his arms.

Blake unfurls my garter to throw to his men while I drink enough champagne to get up the nerve to ask Shane to dance and grill him for information on how he blew a half billion. Since his girlfriend dumped him, I’ll offer my sympathy or my congratulations, whichever he prefers.

I seek him out. He sits on a chair at an empty table and spins a bottle of bubbles—Fay’s idea of a wedding favor. He pulls out the wand and blows some. They float across the room, and Felipe dashes for them. Shane pokes a few and Felipe helps him.

Without any hesitation, the toddler crawls up onto Shane’s lap to help him blow bubbles. Shane laughs when Felipe stands on his wrinkled dress pants and leaps for the bubbles while Shane keeps him from falling. I need to have another talk with Maria, even though with Shane watching him, Felipe is perfectly safe.

This is good. Shane cannot leave with Felipe holding him down. Hitching up the skirt of my dress, I walk toward them, and Shane looks up at me, distaste puckering his chapped lips.

I extend my hand. “Would you care to dance with the bride?”

He snorts out a laugh. He fists his champagne glass like a caveman. “Not particularly.”

Felipe scrunches up his nose and punches Shane’s chest. “Not nice,” Felipe says.

Shane laughs again, lifting Felipe into the air.

The toddler lets out a whoop. “Again,” he cries, so Shane obliges.

“Are you going to deny me on my wedding day?” How else am I going to find out what happened between Nikita and him?

“Princess, don’t make me. The past few weeks have been pretty shitty, and I’ve had a lot to drink. I won’t make a very good dance partner.”

Felipe shoves Shane again. “Bad word. I’m telling.”

Shane cradles the boy in his arms. “Sorry, partner.”

“Go dance with
mi tia
,” Felipe orders, scrunching up his face while he folds his arms over his chest.

Shane gives me a wary look. “Do I have to?”

Felipe blows bubbles into Shane’s face, which only makes him smile. “
Si
.”

“Go find your mother,” I say to Felipe.

He dashes through the crowd and grabs hold of Maria while still clutching the bottle of bubbles. When she takes them away, he bawls. I shake my head at her lack of parenting skills.

“You are not my type, Princess,” Shane says, not moving from his chair. “Why don’t you run off to your husband?”

“Not your type,” I huff out, knuckling my hips.

He sets that rugged jaw dusted with stubble. “I came from nothing. A Yup’ik midwife and Wendell, the local vet/doctor delivered me and my siblings, and you came from all this.” Those long scarred fingers gesture grandly to Mom’s mansion.

Like a wild animal, my traitorous body would still lick O’Flannery off the dessert plate. “This comes from the man who patted me down and grabbed my junk.” And a kiss that lasted until I met Blake. “Any straight guy would find me appealing, and you dated Nikita. I’m definitely a step up from her.”

When his gaze wanders over me, I cross my arms over my chest, feeling suddenly naked under his scrutiny.

“She’s not a party girl like you,” he says.

I laugh. “Oh my goodness. You know how many times I’ve saved that girl from drowning in her own vomit.”

Doubt shadows his handsome face. “Cyn, quit bull-shitting me. Niki doesn’t drink.”

I laugh so hard, spittle flies from my mouth. I cover it while embarrassment heats my neck and face. “And to think, my dad thinks you’re smart. She’s been thrown out of the Cowboys Saloon. How could you not know this?”