A Very Dirty Wedding (62 page)

I shouldn't do any of those things.  Hendrix touching me is dangerous.  This isn't a game, not with my career at stake.  Not with everything I've worked for at risk.  I know that; I tell myself that; yet I don't move.  Every cell in my body is on edge, waiting for him.

"I want to taste you," he says.  "I want to pull those pants of yours down, and I want to kneel right here in the rain and put my tongue inside you.  I want to feel you come on my face, Addy.  I want to plunge my cock inside you and feel you come around me."  Hendrix's hand is on my back, pulling me to him, and I can feel his erection hard against my leg.  If his words didn't tell me he wanted me, that would make it perfectly clear.

"I --" I start, but his hand is fumbling with the button on my jeans.  "Shit, Hendrix."

He slides his hand down the front of my pants, underneath my panties, and I grip his biceps as heat runs through my body at his touch.  "You are so fucking wet," he says.

I can't speak, can't make anything more than a strangled cry as he touches me, his callused fingers rough against my clit.  Desire runs through me like electricity, and every part of me feels like it's on fire.  "I want you," I say.  I speak the words.  Out loud. 
Finally.
  "I want you."

Hendrix lets out a growl under his breath, primal in its intensity, and I think he's going to rip my clothes off right here outside in the pouring rain, and I don't care.  I want him more than I've ever wanted anyone.  In five years, nothing about that has changed.  That desire has only gotten stronger.

Lightning cracks, illuminating everything with bright white light for a moment.  "We should go back, before we get struck by lightning," I say, and when Hendrix slides his fingers from between my legs, I'm crushed by disappointment.

Then Hendrix is pushing me against the tree, peeling my pants over my hips and yanking them, over my thighs.  Before I can say anything else, he slides my panties over my hips.  "Did I tell you how much I like this ass?" he asks.

I grin like an idiot, and I must look like one, out here in a damn storm, with my back against a tree and my pants pulled down around my knees.  But I don't have time to think about what I look like, or about the way we're both soaked to the bone, before Hendrix drops to his knees between my legs and covers my pussy with his mouth.  He explores me with his tongue, licking me and sucking my clit, and I let out a loud moan that gets lost in the noise of the storm.

He doesn't take his time eating me out.  This isn't slow and languid.  He eats me like he's been thinking about this for years and he can't get enough, and I close my eyes and let go.  I pull his head against me as he sucks my clit into his mouth, running his tongue in circles over and over it.  When he slides his fingers inside me, I'm already so close I nearly come at the sensation, and I know I want more.  I want all of him.

I moan his name, not caring how loud I am because it's carried away by the wind, urging him to fuck me harder with his fingers, when what I really want is his cock.  When he groans, the vibration reverberates through my pussy, bringing me higher.  I run my hands over my breasts, barely covered by the sheer fabric of my shirt, and the stimulation practically sends me over the edge.  I want to wait, to savor him doing what he's doing between my legs, but he has me so far gone, I can't.  When I come, I cry out his name, my hands gripping his head as my muscles clench around his fingers.  The release is so intense, and I've waited so long to be with him, that I cry when I come.  I fucking sob, the tears intermingling with the rain.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HENDRIX

FIVE YEARS AGO

I look at the house one last time before I leave.  It's five in the morning, and the sun hasn't come up yet.  I'm slinking away from this place like a coward, without saying a damn thing to Addy.  Not even goodbye.  And certainly not the other thing I should say, the thing that really matters.

The cab driver closes the trunk and I sink back into the seat, refusing to turn around and give the place a backwards glance.   It's better this way.  I said goodbye to our parents last night.  My father gave me his one sentence of sage advice: "Don't fuck up the Marines."

Addy was the one person I wanted to see, but she was gone last night, out at a movie or something with her friends, and I didn't wake her this morning.  Those are the excuses I gave myself, and they're total bullshit.  I could have seen her.  I just didn't have the balls.

I stare at the envelope in my hand, the note I was going to leave for her but chickened out before I could slip it under her door.  Instead, I stood there staring at her door this morning, my heart beating loudly in my chest, willing her to open the door so I could tell her in person.  I slip the envelope in my backpack.
Fuck it.

I'll get over her,
I tell myself.

The problem is, I know when I'm lying to myself, and this lie is a big one.  Addy isn't the kind of girl you ever get over.

* * *

PRESENT DAY

"I'm not going inside," she says.  She's standing by the car, her umbrella over her head, which looks ridiculous since she's already soaked through to the bone.  I'm standing an appropriate foot away from her, just in case anyone is watching us, when I really want to finish what we started.  "I don't want to see them, especially after…"

"After I had my tongue inside you?"

If the darkness and the rain weren't obscuring my vision, I'd say Addy was blushing something fierce.  I love seeing her blush.  "Yes," she says, bringing her hand to her mouth like she's remembering.  "They'll know something happened."

"If we don't go inside, they'll wonder where we are," I say.

"I texted my mother and told her I wasn't feeling well and you were taking me home."  Just then, Addy's phone lights up and she checks it.  "Shit.  My mother says there's flooding down the hill.  The bridge is out."

"The bridge is out," I repeat.

"Fuck."

My cock should deflate at this news, but it doesn't.  It's hard still, pressed up against the zipper of my jeans as I look at Addy, soaking wet, her formerly filmy shirt now completely transparent and clinging to her breasts.  "I guess you'll have to lust after me a while longer," I say.

""Me lust after you?" she asks, smiling.  "You're the one with a huge -- "

"A huge cock?  Yeah, I know.  But thanks for noticing.  They don't call me Cannon for nothing."

"I was going to say a huge hard-on," she says, giggling.  "People call you Cannon because it's your middle name, not because of your dick size."

"Have you ever seen my cock?" I ask.

"No," she says.

Not yet,
I think.  "Exactly.  When you do, you'll understand."

Addy laughs, the sound light.  "You're full of yourself."

"You're about to be full of me too, sweet cheeks."

She slaps my arm.  "Not in the parents' house," she says.

I pause for a minute when I reach the door, Addy behind me.  "You sure the Wicked Bitch isn't lying?" I ask.

Addy rolls her eyes.  "I forgot you used to call her that.  I haven't heard anyone say that in years.  No, of course I'm not sure.  But you know it's true – remember, it used to always go out when it down-poured.  It was one of the things you hated about being up here."

I exhale loudly.  I turn around, my back against the door.  "Being stuck here doesn't change anything, you know," I whisper.  "I still intend to make you come on my cock tonight."

Addy's face flushes red, and I feel pleased with myself.  "Who calls you Cannon?" she asks.  "Girlfriends?  Is it girlfriends?"

I laugh, opening the door and letting us inside, where we're immediately greeted by the Wicked Bitch herself, walking down the hallway.  "I can't believe the two of you," she hisses.  "Embarrassing yourselves like that.  And humiliating your father and I.  This dinner was about business, Addison Stone, and since you apparently don't think enough about your future to care about business deals, I'm left doing that for you."

"It didn't look like business, Mother," Addy says, her voice clipped.  "It looked like a blind date.  Not that I asked you to set me up with anyone.  Did you ever think that might be awkward for me?"

"Why would it be awkward?  Are you and Jared back together?  You are, aren't you?  Jesus Christ, Addison, he's such a PR nightmare."

"I'm not back with anyone, Mother," she says, sighing.  "Can I just go get changed?  Are there any clothes here I can change into?"

"I don't know why the two of you left dinner and went running around outside in the rain," Wendy says, turning and walking down the hallway.  We follow her, and I note how much inside the house has changed since I was here last.  Everything has been redecorated, modern and clean and devoid of charm.  It fits Addy's mother.  "I'll have the maid bring you some dry clothes.  Honestly, what on earth did the two of you have to talk about out in the downpour?"

"I was telling Addy why everyone took to calling me Cannon after I left home," I say.  Beside me, Addy chokes.  She tries to cover it up by coughing several times, but her face is red.

"See?  You caught your death out there, and now you're taxing your voice by coughing.  I'll have the maid bring you up some hot tea.  I wouldn't think telling Addison about your middle name would warrant running around outside like a couple of lunatics.  Besides, didn't you ride around in tanks or something?  It seems like an obvious thing to call you.  I mean, you're a soldier."

"I was a Marine, Wendy," I correct her, irritation in my voice.  "Actually, it was a
long
story that was
hard
to tell."  I emphasize the words, hoping the innuendo is clear to Addy, and by the way she's practically doubled over now, I can see it is.  I can't tell if she's laughing or coughing or dying of embarrassment. 

The Wicked Bitch rolls her eyes.  "I told the Colonel that hiring you wasn't a smart idea.  Leaving the table at dinner was unconscionable.  I'm so angry with you I can hardly stand to look at you."

If she could hardly speak, it would be a hell of a lot better.

She dismisses us with a gesture.  "Go," she says.  "You're in your old rooms – they're guest rooms now.  But you can find your way.  The Bentons are staying in the guest house.  You'll have an opportunity to redeem yourselves in the morning."

Addy nods.  "Whatever you say, Mother."  She's up the stairs quickly, glad, I'm sure, to get out from under her mother's penetrating gaze.

The Wicked Bitch narrows her eyes at me.  "Addy is a disaster," she says.  "Constantly sabotaging herself at every turn."

"The only thing that's close to a disaster I've seen is you and my father's meddling in her life," I say.

The Wicked Bitch smiles smugly.  "You've always had a soft spot for her, haven't you?" she asks.  "You've always been blind where she's concerned.  I told your father that, and he insisted you were different. 
The Marines have changed him,
he said. 
He's responsible.  Trustworthy.   Addy's always looked up to him.
And you've been back in her life for all of what, a minute?  You think you know her?"

"She's twenty-two," I say, "She's not seventeen.  You're her manager and that's it.  You don't run her life.  And from where I stand, she's done a good job of that."

Addy's mother laughs.  "She nearly lost her record deal," she says.  "And you know
nothing
.  You think she's not texting that boyfriend of hers?  Or sneaking around with him?  Ask her about it.  You think you have a handle on her?  She's charming you the way she does everyone else."

Anger rushes through me at the idea of Addy being with anyone, much less the douchebag ex-boyfriend who'd better not be in the picture, so help me God.  "You don't think I'm doing my job?  Fire me."

"I'm not going to fire you," the Wicked Bitch says.  "That would make her rebel even more.  But you're going to keep me apprised of what's going on.  I'm her manager.  I need to know."

"Every detail," I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm.  "Should I make you know what she eats and what time she takes a shit?  I can send photos if you like."

"You're crude," she says.

I shrug.  "I guess you can take the man out of the Marines, but you can't take the Marine out of the man, huh?"

She wrinkles her nose, looking at me like she's smelling something repulsive.  "They didn't teach you diplomacy in the military."

"Diplomacy isn't exactly a priority," I say.  "Any other job advice?"

"Watch yourself, Hendrix," she says.  "Addy will have you wrapped around your finger in no time at all.  She's a manipulator."

"Actually, I think you have her confused with someone else," I say.  "You."  I turn to head up the stairs, wondering if she suspects anything between her daughter and me.  I wonder if what happened outside, or hell, the thoughts I've been having, are written all over my face.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ADDY

FIVE YEARS AGO

"He left this morning," Grace says, flopping down on my bed.  "I thought you knew he was leaving.  He had to report for boot camp."

I feel like someone punched me in the stomach.  "I thought he'd say goodbye."

Grace rolls over onto her back and twirls a long strand of dark hair around her finger.  "That's weird, yeah?" she asks.  "He said goodbye to me last night.  I guess since you were at the movies, he didn't want to bother you when you got back?"

"I guess."  My head is swimming, and I have to sit down.

"What's wrong?" Grace asks.  "You look pale.  Do you need a soda or something?"

"No, I --" I start.  What can I say?  I fell for my stepbrother, and he kissed me, and I was naive enough to think it meant something to him.   Then I heard him tell all his friends horrible things about me, but I still thought he might make a last-minute declaration of love before he left for the Marines.

I'm a total idiot, a girl who's read far too many fairy tales.

"What?" Grace sits up.  "It's not Hendrix is it?"

"Huh?" I ask, distracted by my thoughts of Hendrix.  My stomach churns at the thought of him joining the Marines.  What if something happens to him, and the last feelings I had toward him were hate for what he said about me?  I'd never forgive myself.  "No, it's not Hendrix."

"You guys were like, really good friends there for a while, huh?" Grace asks.  She grabs one of the bottles of nail polish from my desk and starts painting her toes.  "Ugh, pink.  Don't you have any more edgy colors?  Can you really see me wearing pink?  I mean, no offense, it looks good on you, obviously."

"I think there's some in the bathroom," I say, numb.  I don't care about nail polish.  I can't think about anything except Hendrix.

"Don't worry about Hendrix," she says, hopping up and disappearing into the bathroom.  "Although, can you really see him being a Marine?  That would be like me joining the military.  They're going to shit their pants when they see him walk into boot camp with blue streaks in his hair."  When she reappears, she has a bottle of blue polish.  "Speaking of blue, at least you have something that's more useable than that pink crap.  Do you think he'll come back all 'roided out and like, prison hot?"

The thought of Hendrix getting "prison hot" makes me shiver, and I try not to think about what he might look like after being with the Marines.  I've fantasized about Hendrix too many times to count already.  Far too many times to be good for me.  I need to put Hendrix out of my head.

* * *

PRESENT DAY

"Just a second," I call.  The door opens before I can say anything else, and I reach frantically for the towel I tossed carelessly on my bed, getting tangled up in the pile of wet clothes on the floor at my feet.  Looking up, I see Hendrix shutting the door behind him.  I hiss at him through clenched teeth to get the hell out of my bedroom before someone catches him, but he just stands there, grinning at me.  "Turn around."

"What?" he whispers.  "Your taste is still on my tongue, but you don't want me to see you naked?"

"Don't say that."  I scramble to get the towel wrapped around my body, mindful of the fact that Hendrix isn't doing what I tell him to do.  Not only is he not listening to me, he's standing there shirtless, his chest still damp from the rain.  Shirtless and sexy.

"Don't say what?" he asks, his voice low.  He crosses the space between us so quickly that I inhale sharply.  "Naked?  Or that your taste is still on my tongue?  Would you rather I say that I was licking your pussy?"

"Hendrix," I whisper.  "You can't talk to me like that.  Not here, in this house."

"Or what?"  He steps close to me and puts his mouth close to my ear, taking one finger and trailing it up my arm and over my shoulder, then across my collarbone.  He slowly, lazily runs it up the side of my neck, and I'm left so on edge, so wanting, that I could cry again.  "What are you afraid of, Addy?"

"You," I whisper.  It's the only word I can choke out, the only thing that escapes my lips.  I don't say all of the other things going through my head, the things I want to say.

I'm afraid that everything I've worked for will be destroyed.

I'm afraid of falling for you all over again.

I'm afraid you'll rip my heart to shreds, the way you did when you left.

I'm afraid you'll break me.

The look Hendrix gives me is practically feral.  He makes a sound, deep in his throat, his hand on the back of my neck, and I think if he kisses me again, he'll destroy us both.  But he just looks at me.  "You're right," he says.

"What?"  All I can feel is the warmth from his hand on my neck, the heat that radiates from his palm down my body, pooling between my legs.  I'm a raw nerve, a ball of need and desire, and as much as I want him to go, more of me wants him to stay.  More of me wants him to pick me up and fuck me against the bedroom wall, right now.

He groans, as if he can read the dirty thoughts that are running through my head, and pushes me against the wall.  "Drop the towel," he says, his voice gruff and gravely.

"What are you doing?" I choke out the words, my palm up to push him away, but instead I end up sliding my hand over his chest and down his rippled abdomen.  I can see his hardness pressed against his jeans, and all I can think about is having him inside me.

"I'm doing what I told you I was going to do before," he says.

"Hendrix, right here is not the place.  Our parents -- "

"Are we both going to pretend you're not aching for me?" he asks.  "That you're not soaking wet with the thought of having me inside you?"  He reaches underneath the towel, between my legs, and touches me gently with the tip of his fingers, and his touch makes me practically melt.

"I don't know if this is a good idea, Hendrix," I say, protesting, but weakly.  My resolve isn't even weak.  It's practically non-existent.

He wraps his hands around my wrists and pins them to the wall above my head, then holds them there with one hand as he traces his finger gently over my lips.  "This is
not
a good fucking idea, Addy," he whispers, his finger moving slowly down the front of my chest to my cleavage.  "This is the worst fucking idea in the world."

"This
is
the worst idea ever," I say.  "We should be reasonable."

"I've never been a reasonable man," he says, stepping back from me and surveying me.  "Take off the towel."

I draw in a sharp breath, but I do exactly that.  I slip my finger under the edge of the towel, and it drops softly to the floor.  I'm left standing there completely naked, with Hendrix's eyes on me.  He surveys me for a moment, then steps forward, inches away from me, his mouth so close to mine as he teases me, his warm breath on my skin. 

He puts his palm on my stomach, exhaling heavily as he slides it up between my breasts, his eyes never leaving mine as he covers my breast with his palm, his thumb immediately on my nipple.  When I moan, he whispers.  "Careful, don't let the Wicked Bitch hear you.  I have a feeling she wouldn't like this."

The thought of our parents finding out makes my heart nearly stop.  "Shit, Hendrix," I whisper.

Hendrix smiles and drops my hands.  "You can walk away at any time, sweet cheeks," he says.

"No, that's not what I meant.  I -- "

He raises an eyebrow and sinks to the floor between my legs.  "Open your legs for me, Addy."

"Again?"

But the way he says it, looking up at me like he is, makes me think I'd be stupid to do anything except that.  He touches the tip of his tongue to my clit, and it sends a jolt of arousal ricocheting through my body, down to the tips of my fingers.  I run my hands over his closely-cropped hair.  "Oh my God, Hendrix."

I can hear him inhale deeply, and the fact that he's between my legs, smelling me, while our parents are downstairs, is so ridiculously...inappropriate...that it makes me blush.  "I'm going to take my time now that we're out of the rain, Addy.  I've dreamt about putting my face between your legs," he says softly.  "I've fantasized about my tongue on your clit, licking you, feeling you come on my face.  Do you know how many times I've thought about it?"

I can tell that my face must be scarlet, from the heat that rises to my cheeks.  "Hendrix."

"You're blushing," he whispers.  He takes my clit in his mouth, gently at first, and then sucking so hard I have to grip his head, unable to stifle my cry.  Then he pulls his head away and looks up at me.  "You're going to have to be quiet, Addy, or I'm going to give you something to put in your mouth."

No one has ever talked to me the way Hendrix is talking to me now.  "Careful," I whisper.  "I'm not sure that would keep me quiet."

Hendrix makes a sound, primal in its intensity, and grips my ass cheeks tightly, pulling me down on his mouth with a ferocity that takes my breath away.  His tongue is everywhere, licking me, probing me, and I feel my knees nearly buckle underneath me.  When he pulls his face away, I'm clutching his head to stay upright.  "You taste better than I could have imagined," he says.

"You imagined what I tasted like?"  The thought intensifies the throbbing between my legs.

Hendrix doesn't take his eyes off my face as he slips his fingers inside me, and I moan softly.  "I've jerked off to the thought of it a thousand times," he whispers.  "I've come thinking about my tongue inside you."

"Oh God."  What he's doing with his fingers, his magic fingers, is almost too much.  His touch is nearly unbearable.

"Tell me you've come thinking about me fucking you, Addy," he says, his fingers stroking me, more insistently now, pressing against the oh-so-sensitive place inside me.

"I thought about you, Hendrix," I gasp, barely getting the words out.  "Even before you left."

"Tell me," he says.  "Tell me what you used to do thinking about me."  His fingers continue to work their magic, but he covers my clit with his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, sucking as he strokes me.

"I...oh God..." I cling to his head, pressing him against me, trying to force my voice to remain no louder than a whisper, mindful of the fact that our parents are in the house, that if they discovered us, everything would be over.  It would all be ruined.  The fucked up thing is that I think the threat of discovery actually makes it more intense.  "When we swam at night, I...oh shit...I'd come back here and touch myself thinking about you."

Hendrix moans against my clit, and the vibration nearly sends me over the edge, just like it did outside in the rain.  "Tell me, Addy."

"I laid on the bed in this room, thinking about taking your cock in my mouth," I whisper.  My breath is ragged, my words choppy and punctuated with my gasps.  Hendrix's fingers keep stroking me, and I'm so close.  He moans again, and the fact that Hendrix is so turned on pushes me over the edge.  "I came thinking about you inside me, riding me.  I came thinking about you coming inside me."

"Fuck."  I can hear him moan the word, his mouth filled with me, and I come hard, biting down on my lip so I don't scream, my hands clutching his head so tightly to me that I think he might not be able to breathe.

I'm still coming, my muscles clenched tightly around his fingers, but he doesn't let me rest.  When he slides his fingers from me, I practically cry out at the feeling of emptiness.  But he turns me, guides me to sit on the ottoman beside my armchair.  "Sit down," he growls.

I mutely obey, focused more on the throbbing ache between my legs than anything else, until he strips off his clothes and stands in front of me naked, his huge cock inches from my face.  "Holy shit," I breathe.  The words escape my lips before I can even think.

Hendrix raises his eyebrows.  "Does it meet with your expectations?"

"I'm not sure I can..." But I can't take my eyes off him, and I reach out, guiding him to my lips.  I touch my tongue to the single drop of pre-cum that glistens on the tip, tasting its saltiness.

Hendrix groans, gripping a handful of hair at the top of my head.  "Wrap those sweet lips around my cock, Addy," he says.  It's not a request; it's a command.  And I comply, taking him in my mouth.  I run my tongue down his length, as he murmurs his approval.  "Shit, Addy, your mouth feels better than I could have imagined."

Hearing him speak that spurs me on, and I moan as I suck him, cupping his heavy balls in one hand while I stroke the base of his cock with the other.  Having him in my mouth, the way I've fantasized for years, makes me drunk with lust.

When Hendrix pulls at my hair and tells me how he's jerked off to the thought of me sucking his cock, I swallow him deeper, spurred on by his words, until I think he's going to explode.  He fucks my mouth, thrusts himself deeper past my lips, his grip on my hair tight until he's close. 

Then he pulls out of my mouth without warning.  "Fuck, Addy," he says softly, his voice breaking, as he comes all over my breasts, one hand still gripping my hair.  When he stops, he looks at me, his expression sheepish.  "Shit.  I don't know what came over me."