Page 8 of Cruel Dynasty

“I don’t want a blowjob,” he rasped. I blinked in confusion, but before I could shift up and offer whatever part of me he did want, he continued, “I want to fuck your mouth. Would you like that?”

Oh my. The gush of arousal between my legs would have answered for me if he could feel it. I bobbed my head as much as his firm grip would allow me to move. He tskked once and I realized my mistake.

“Please fuck my mouth.” I stared up at him, waiting for him to take what I offered.

Spencer brushed his thumb down my cheek. “So perfect,” he murmured. “Such a lady on my arm, and when you’re on your knees? You’re every fantasy I’ve ever had.”

I swallowed as unexpected emotions swirled through me. Spencer tugged me backward, giving himself room to stand. When he was on his feet, he urged me up until I was face-to-face with his groin. “Open your mouth, beautiful.”

My lips widened into a large O and he brought the tip of his cock to my mouth. He guided it in slowly, and I relaxed, welcoming the intrusion.

Spencer groaned as he slid the final bit, pushing himself deep into my throat. “I don’t know how the fuck you do that, but christ, it’s hot.” He shifted a bit and I fought the urge to gag. I’d never let a man be in control like this before, but for some reason, I wanted nothing more than to let him use me.

“I love seeing you there, swallowing my cock. I’m going to fuck your mouth now. Ready?” The tenderness in his voice was at odds with the primal control he held over me. Somehow that made it even sexier.

I bobbed my head as far as I could without choking, and Spencer smirked. “It’s not fair to ask questions you can’t answer. If you want me to stop, just pinch me. Okay?” He shook his head. “I did it again.”

I placed a hand on his wrist and rubbed a circle on it. His eyes hooded with understanding and he rocked against me slowly as if testing the waters. I kept myself still and open, even as my eyes burned from the effort. It only made me want him more as he moved faster, thrusting harder and harder. At that moment, I wasn’t Kate or Kerrigan. I’d become pure sensation, desire drenched every inch of my body. I only wanted him and the sweet oblivion he offered.

I would take whatever he would give me so long as I was here with him. Spencer went rigid and I accepted his climax. When he finally stilled, he released his grip on my hair and coaxed me to my feet. My knees wobbled as I stood and when his mouth closed over mine, capturing my tongue, I swayed dangerously. His hands sank into my hips, keeping me steady until finally he broke away. He didn’t speak as he swept me into his arms and carried me to the next room.

There was nothing gentle when he dropped me onto the bed. Before my body had settled against the mattress, Spencer sank to his knees, pushing my thighs apart. And then he devoured me.

4

I stared at the white gown, torn between picturing myself in it and wanting to throw up. My fingers tightened around the champagne flute in my hand, a complimentary gesture meant to showcase the celebratory nature of trying on wedding gowns. I glanced at the price tag, hanging from a delicate silk ribbon and took a large drink. Maybe I was wrong and the champagne was meant to lubricate the sale. I couldn’t imagine how much alcohol I would need before I would consider spending that much on a dress to wear one day.

But I wasn’t paying. Tod Belmond was, because it wasn’t my wedding dress but his daughter’s. Price was no object—a fact he’d made clear when he sent Iris and I off to the bridal salon this morning. I’d had a slight stomach ache ever since.

Christina, the stylist who’d fawned over us since we stepped through the door, sauntered over, her lips beginning to form a question. Then they took a sudden downward turn. She snagged the tag and tucked it quickly into the bodice.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” She pressed a hand to her chest, looking as though I’d just witnessed a murder. “It was terribly crass. I’ll speak to the girl who pulled that dress.”

“Oh, don’t.” I shook my head, which made me feel a little tipsy. I swayed on my feet but managed to recover without her noticing. “It doesn’t bother me at all. It’s just money.”

That’s what Kerrigan would say, or what she would think, at least. Maybe Kerrigan would be offended to see the price tag hanging so blatantly off the gown. I was starting to understand that the only thing rich people liked more than spending money was spending money with blind abandon. Nothing proved how rich they were more than that.

“More champagne?” Christina asked.

I looked at my empty glass. I wanted to say yes. “No. I skipped breakfast. It’s probably not a good idea.”

“I understand,” she whispered. “The dress diet. Every bride I know stops eating the moment he slides the ring on her finger.”

I pushed a smile onto my lips, my brain fighting me the whole way, and nodded. That was a perfectly normal, albeit insane, excuse for missing breakfast. I’m sure most brides did go on a diet. But I wasn’t most brides. In fact, I wasn’t a bride at all. I’d skipped breakfast, because I’d run out of time.

When Iris had arranged the appointment after we’d announced our engagement to our families, a month had seemed like a long time to find a way to get out of dress shopping. At first, I’d ignored the problem, because it only reminded me that I was playing dress up with another woman’s fiancé. Then, I’d allowed myself to be distracted by playing other games with Spencer. It was easy to forget that the clock was ticking when I was in his bed. Soon, I’d forgotten entirely until Giles had reminded me of the appointment when he brought me my morning coffee.

Now I was standing in a dress shop, surrounded by tulle and lace and silk, and all the complicated emotions I'd avoided for the last few weeks were churning in my stomach along with that glass of champagne.

“Do you have one you’d like to try first?” she asked.

I shrugged, resisting the urge to look toward the dress I’d spotted the moment we’d walked into the private salon. The perfect dress. The dress I would choose to walk down the aisle to become Spencer’s wife.

The dress I wanted but would never wear. “I’ll let you choose.”

“Shall we step into the changing room to get your measurements and—”

“Can I speak with my assistant for one moment before?” I cut her off.