My Fiancé Called Me Boring, So I Slept With His Uncle novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Not Yet

The night plays through, Sadie leaves $240 on the nightstand, and her father swings at her in the dressing room before the staff announces that Ezra Maddox, Colby's uncle, has arrived.

He did not stop.

He kissed me again, slower now, and his hand moved down my ribs and over my hip.

My bra was already gone.

I did not remember him taking it.

His mouth found my breast, and I arched off the sheet and said something that was not a word.

"Tell me," he said against my skin.

"Don't stop."

"That's not what I asked."

His tongue circled my nipple, and I gripped his hair and pulled.

"Lower," I said. "Please."

He made a low sound in his throat and kissed his way down my stomach.

He pulled my skirt off, then my underwear, and I lay there bare in the dark with my heart slamming.

He pushed my knees apart and looked at me.

"Look at you," he said, rough. "You're soaked."

I had never been so embarrassed or so wanted in my life.

Then his mouth was on my clit.

I cried out and my hips jumped off the bed.

His hands held me down by the thighs, and his tongue worked me in long, slow strokes, and every one went through my whole body.

"Oh my God," I said. "Oh, that's, don't..."

"Don't what?"

"Don't stop."

He laughed against me, and the sound went straight through me.

He slid one finger inside my pussy, and I clenched around it, tight and wet and shaking.

"So tight," he said. "Easy. Let me."

He added a second finger, and it stung and then it did not, and he curled them while his tongue kept moving.

I came with a shout, my back bowing, my fingers tearing at the sheet.

He did not let me come down.

He kept licking me through it until I was sobbing into the pillow, and then he came up my body and kissed me, and I tasted myself on him.

"I need you," I said. "Now."

He undressed in the dark.

I felt his cock against my thigh, thick and hot and hard, and for one second I was afraid.

"Look at me," he said.

I looked at him.

He settled between my legs and rubbed the head of his cock through my wetness, slow, slicking himself.

"This will hurt," he said. "I'm not going to hurry it."

"I don't care. Fuck me."

He pushed in.

It burned.

I gasped and dug my nails into his shoulders, and he held still with his forehead against mine, shaking with the effort of it.

"Breathe," he said.

I breathed.

He sank deeper, inch by inch, until he was all the way inside me and full and I could feel every pulse of him.

"There," he said. "You took all of it."

The burn faded into something heavy and good.

I rolled my hips, and he swore.

He pulled out slowly and thrust back in, and I moaned, and he did it again, harder.

"More," I said.

He gave me more.

He fucked me deep and steady, his hips driving, the bed knocking the wall, my legs locked around his back.

"Fuck, you feel good," he said. "Tighter. Just like that."

"Harder."

He pulled me up into his lap and I rode him, my hands on his shoulders, his mouth on my throat, his hands gripping my ass and pulling me down onto his cock.

I had no idea I could feel like this.

I came again with my face against his neck, clenching hard around him.

"Ezra," he said, hoarse, and I understood after a second that he was telling me his name. "Say it."

"Ezra."

He rolled me onto my back and thrust hard, three, four, five times.

Then he groaned and came deep inside me, shuddering, and held me through every pulse of it.

I told myself it was strategy.

Somewhere around the second time, I stopped telling myself anything.

My alarm went off at 10:04.

I slapped it silent with my eyes shut.

Everything ached.

When I tried to sit up, I sucked a breath through my teeth.

An arm slid around my waist and pulled me back against a warm, solid chest.

"Not yet," Ezra said, rough with sleep.

"I have somewhere to be."

"So do I." His mouth brushed my shoulder. "It can wait."

It was a very good argument.

His hand drifted lower, and for one dangerous second I forgot what day it was.

Then I remembered.

I caught his wrist and slipped out from under his arm.

"Sorry. Engagement party."

I dressed with my back to him, in a torn blouse and a blazer buttoned over it.

Then I took every bill out of my wallet, fanned them, and dropped the stack on the nightstand.

I gave him my laziest smile.

"Thanks for last night, handsome. I'll book you again."

He stared at me.

I could not tell if he was angry or amused, and I did not stay to find out.

I did not look back.

The Carrow Grand ballroom was ready by 11:20, and so was the bride's dressing room.

My father was waiting inside it.

He crossed the room in three steps and swung at my face.

I caught his wrist in the air and held it.

"I have an engagement party in forty minutes," I said calmly. "Do you want me to walk in with a bruise?"

Martin Brannigan's face went red.

"Where the hell were you? Your phone was off!"

"I'm here now."

He leaned close so the makeup artist could not hear.

"If anything goes wrong today, every box in my study goes in the trash. Your mother's things. All of it."

Those boxes were the only part of my mother I had left, and he knew it.

They were the reason I had said yes to this wedding.

"Perfectly clear," I said, and let go. "Has Colby arrived?"

He looked at the carpet.

"His phone is off," he said. "The Maddoxes have people looking."

The door banged open.

A hotel manager stood there, out of breath.

"Mr. Brannigan, Ezra Maddox just walked in."

My father went stiff.

"Who is Ezra Maddox?" I asked.

He stared at me.

"Gerald's brother," he said. "Colby's uncle. The one man in Harlow Bay you do not cross."

I held very still.

Ezra.

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