Spoiling My Sweet Wife to Her Core novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: Wedding Night
Lizzie starts the first night; morning brings a viral video calling her a thief.
The recording ended, and the thin, scared voice stayed in my head.
It was only one sentence, and it had told me everything.
"Whitney is pregnant," I said. "And Lizzie knew."
"Preston's," Denton said.
He said it flatly.
"You know that?"
"I know what a man looks like when he's afraid of a woman in a pink dress."
I turned the phone over in my hand.
The girl whose body I wore had found out on Saturday afternoon, hours before her engagement party, and she had told no one.
That same night she was dragged out of her own party as a thief.
"They didn't frame me because I stole something," I said. "They framed me so no one would listen to me."
"Yes."
"They needed me to be the liar before I could say it."
"Yes," Denton said again. "And they've lost, because you're in my house, and the whole city has your name."
His voice was quiet, but it had an edge on it that I had not heard before.
I put the phone down.
Then I looked at him, really looked, across the candles.
His tie was loosened and his sleeves were turned back over strong forearms.
There was a faint pulse in his throat.
He was watching me.
The body was twenty-six, and the mind inside it was thirty-one.
Both of them knew exactly what they wanted.
"You didn't say what happens after dinner," I said.
He went very still.
"Nothing happens," he said. "There's a bedroom with a lock."
"You said it twice."
"I meant it twice."
I stood and walked around the table.
He did not move, though his hands closed on the arms of his chair.
I stopped in front of him and slid onto his lap, my knees on either side of his thighs.
"Lizzie," he said, low and rough.
I put my mouth on his.
For one second he held himself rigid, and then he made a sound in his chest and his hands found my hips.
He kissed me.
His mouth was hot and slow and then not slow at all.
His tongue slid against mine until I was gripping his shirt in both fists.
"Take me to bed," I said against his lips.
"Say it again."
"Take me to bed, Denton."
He stood with me in his arms and carried me down the hall.
The door of his room shut behind us with a click.
He set me on my feet beside the bed and turned me around by the shoulders.
His fingers found the zipper of the green dress, and he drew it down so slowly that I felt every tooth.
The dress fell around my ankles.
He put his mouth on the side of my neck, and I tipped my head back against his shoulder.
"You're shaking," he said.
"I'm not scared."
"I know," he said. "That's what's killing me."
His hand slid over my stomach and up, and he cupped my breast through the lace.
His thumb dragged across my nipple until I gasped.
He unhooked my bra and let it fall.
Then he turned me back to face him, and his eyes went over my body with a hunger that made me burn.
"Look at you," he said.
He went to his knees in front of me, and my heart slammed against my ribs.
He pulled my panties down my thighs and pressed a kiss to the soft skin below my navel.
Then he lifted one of my legs over his shoulder and put his mouth between my thighs.
I cried out, and my hands sank into his hair.
He licked me slowly, from my entrance up to my clit.
Then he circled it with the tip of his tongue until my knees gave.
"Denton, I can't stand."
"You don't have to," he said, and he caught me and laid me on the bed.
He pushed my thighs wide with his big hands and went back to work.
He sucked my clit into his mouth and slid two fingers inside me, and I arched off the sheets.
"Oh, fuck."
"That's it," he said, against my pussy. "Let me hear you."
He curled his fingers and found the spot that made white light burst behind my eyes.
He held me there with his mouth until I came apart.
I came with his name in my throat and my heels digging into his back.
He kept licking me through every spasm, and when I finally went limp he lifted his head and looked up my body.
His mouth was wet, and his gray eyes were dark.
He stripped off his shirt, and I saw a body made of hard muscle and old scars.
He shoved his trousers down, and his cock sprang free, thick and heavy and flushed at the tip.
I wanted it so badly that I sat up and reached for him.
"On your back," he said.
I lay down.
He came over me and settled between my legs, and the head of his cock pressed at my entrance.
"Look at me," he said.
I looked into his eyes, and he pushed inside me in one long, slow stroke.
I was so full that I could hardly breathe.
He stopped when he was all the way in, and he shook with the effort of holding still.
"You feel like heaven," he said hoarsely.
"Move," I said. "Fuck me, Denton."
He gave a ragged laugh and began to move.
At first he went deep and slow, rolling his hips so that every thrust dragged across the place that had made me shatter.
Then I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he lost his patience.
He braced one hand on the headboard and drove into me hard enough to rock the bed.
I clawed at his shoulders and met every thrust.
He took my wrists in one hand and pinned them over my head, and I loved it.
"Mine," he said into my ear. "Say it."
"Yours," I gasped. "I'm yours."
He reached between us and rubbed my clit with his thumb in tight, fast circles.
The pressure inside me wound tighter and tighter until it broke, and I screamed as I came around his cock.
He groaned and buried his face in my neck.
His rhythm broke, and he thrust twice more, deep, and spilled inside me with a shout.
Afterward we lay tangled in the dark, his heart thudding against my back.
He pressed his lips to my shoulder again and again.
"Thank you," he said, very quietly.
"For what?"
He did not answer.
In the morning, Denton was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with a tablet in his hands.
His face was grim.
"Lizzie," he said. "Look."
He turned the screen toward me.
A video from the Ashworth ballroom was playing under a screaming headline.
THIEF BRIDE WEDS BILLIONAIRE TO ESCAPE ARREST.
It had four million views.
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