TWENTY NINE

Justine

After Ronan leaves, the crew pack up and we try halfheartedly to finish dinner. I don't taste any of it.

Nobody sticks around for dessert. Mom and Hamu offer, but I gently turn them down. I need some time to process what happened.

Only, I'm not sure how to do that.

I should have told my parents the thing was staged. That it was fake. I wasn't sure if Ronan would want me to do that, though, and we didn't have time to discuss it. I should have known the family dinner was coming. The truth is, I was so distracted today with the spa and the book signing I wasn't thinking too much about it. Or about anything except how wonderful he had made me feel, pampering me like that.

I hate that I let him down.

Opening my phone, I start to type out a new message. I can't find the right words, though. It's getting later and later, but I'll never be able to sleep tonight if I don't make sure he's OK. I just need him not to be angry with me.

When I've deleted the fifth draft message, I abandon that approach. Screwing up my courage, I hit call instead.

After the seventh ring, I've just about given up hope. I'm about to hang up, when Ronan answers. "I can't believe you're calling after that. I hope it really is you and not Amy or one of the other Married for a Day people making you do this."

I'm tongue tied for a moment. "No, I—it's me. I just wanted to know if you're OK. I'm sorry, I'll—"

He gives a heavy sigh. "You indulge me far too much. I don't deserve your sympathy."

I blink. "You're not angry?"

"Are you?"

"I—no. Just worried."

There's a long silence. I'm starting to doubt he's still there, when he speaks again.

"Justine? Can I ask you to do one more thing for me tonight? I don't deserve it, but I need something to take my mind off—well I need a distraction."

My heart stutters against my breastbone and my fingers get all tingly. He wants me to be his distraction? My answer is automatic. "Of course. What can I do?"

"I'm at home. My real home. I'll send my car. Come here?"

"OK."

"Thank you." That's all he says before he hangs up. A few seconds later, he texts the instructions for where to meet his driver.

Ronan: I mean it. Thank you. I'm sorry I'm such a stubborn bull sometimes

I don't have a good reply, so instead I grab my purse and head downstairs to find Harvey waiting. He must have been close by.

The drive to Ronan's real home is short. I guess that's why he asked me to pick this area of town when I made the booking. When I ring the bell, he buzzes me up and opens the door. He's bare chested, wearing only a thin pair of sweats. It's a look that's fast becoming my favorite look for Ronan Kernos. As much as I like the polished billionaire businessman, I love the ruffled, vulnerable-looking minotaur who's starting to let me scratch beneath the surface a little.

And let's face it, I'm half in love with those pecs and those abs. They sure don't hurt.

As soon as I enter, he steps into my personal space, an intense expression on his handsome face. He gathers me into his arms and buries his nose into my neck. I was craning to look around his brawny shoulders and get my first glimpse of his apartment, but his lips against my skin make me forget everything else.

I gasp when his lips trace up my neck, finding that spot behind my ear that makes me weak at the knees. "Ronan!"

He groans against my skin. "Let me make you need this as much as I do right now. I fucking need to lose myself in you."

Heat instantly surges through my body.

"OK." My voice is breathless even before he kisses me.

Ronan practically tears the front of my dress open, exposing my cleavage.

Once we lock lips, I barely get to come up for air. The pleasure of his lips and tongue on mine is too addictive. His hands roam my body, restlessly tug at the dress, and fondle my ass through the thin layer of fabric. He backs me up until I'm pressed up against a wall. I have the vaguest concept of the layout of his apartment, catching a glimpse of an enormous double-sided fireplace and a huge flat screen. Then I have to clutch for his shoulders when he slides a hand up my thigh and rubs possessively at my pussy through my panties.

Oh god! How does he always know just how to touch me? It's like he knows more about my body than I do. Next moment, he's sliding the underwear aside to push a finger through my folds. I groan. I'd like to lift my leg and give him access, but there's nothing to put my foot on. I want him to keep touching me just like this. Just like this because it feels so good.

He circles my clit with his knuckle and I moan with pleasure. The feeling trickles down my spine and pools in my center. Knees trembling, I long to be on my back under him, looking up at his intense expression.

Instead, he lifts my arms and pins them against the wall above me, holding me with a single hand while his other continues circling, teasing.

All the time I'm getting closer. Winding tighter against his fingers.

Then he stops. "I want to hear you beg for it, Justine. Tell me what a needy little slut you are."

I shake my head, my horror showing on my face. "I can't say that!"

He spears a finger inside me. It's thick. Slightly calloused despite his desk job. My pussy clenches, seeking more.

Instead, he holds still.

"Ronan!"

"You want me to make you come, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me you're my good little slut and maybe I will."

He delves deeper, lifting me onto my toes, but never giving me the movement and friction that I crave.

"It's not a dirty word, Justine. It's beautiful. When you're like this you're beautiful and I want you to feel it."

I let out a shaky breath. "Please, Ronan. Not that."

He frowns and pauses.

"Please," I beg.

That finally seems to get through to him. There's no way I could use that word. Not after the way Cameron made me feel for being so needy.

He releases my arms. A tender touch caresses my face. "We don't have to use that word. You tell me what you feel comfortable with. But I want you to know how much I like it when you're like this."

My core pulses with warmth and only about fifty percent of it is his fingers inside me. The rest is his sweet words and the care with which he is treating me.

"Really? You like that?"

"Fuck, yes." He takes my hand and places it over the huge bulge in the front of his trousers. His cock pulses beneath my fingers. "See what you do to me? That's you, Justine. That's how I get every time I get a glimpse of this side of you."

A warmth blooms inside my chest; I gather my courage. "I like being dirty for you. I like it when you make me need you so badly."

"Better," he coos. He moves the fingers still inside me ever so slightly.

I moan.

"Tell me what you want."

He curls those fingers and presses against a place inside I'm desperate to have stroked.

I buckle. "Ronan! I want your cock. I want to feel it right there. All the way inside me. And I want you to look at me when you come and make me feel beautiful."

He freezes.

I think for an awful moment I've gone too far. Said something too shocking. He doesn't want emotion. He wants pure sex. That's all this is. But the truth is when he touches me like this—when he looks at me that way—he does make me feel beautiful. More than anyone I've ever known.

That feeling he gives me has so much power over me. When he asked me to tell him what I want, I couldn't help but obey.

Ronan sucks in a sharp breath.

I sob when he withdraws his fingers, but the next second he pulls the dress from me in one swift motion. "You want to feel beautiful, Justine. You should. Come with me."

Without giving me a choice, he bends and scoops me off the floor, carrying me down a dim corridor into the largest bedroom I think I've ever seen in my life. In front of an enormous walk-in wardrobe is a series of mirrored panels on sliding doors. He sets me down in front of one and turns me to face my reflection. Standing behind me, he places his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look. To take it in.

As his possessive hand slides down to cup my breast and lift it, my gaze travels down with it, all the way to my belly and the light patch of red hair at my pussy.

I blink and take how the pale blue gray of his skin looks against my pink. How his broad, muscular frame surrounds my reflection, making me feel small and dainty. His huge horns sweep out on either side of his bovine head. It's monstrously beautiful and captivates me.

For a moment, my eyes meet his in the reflection and I gasp at his heated, hungry look. Something hot and hard presses at my back and reminds me, despite his temper and his walls, this sophisticated monster wants me.

Me!

When he could have anyone.

Maybe it's only because we've been forced together under these circumstances. Maybe it's because I'm convenient. But a small part of me whispers it's more than that. That part of him needs part of me. And I'm only too happy to give.

"Put your hand between your legs and touch yourself," he tells me in a raspy voice.

Unquestioningly, I obey.

My own fingers don't feel anywhere near as good as his, but I circle my clit while my mind swims with memories of his touch even as he toys with my breasts.

"Spread your legs, Justine. Let's see all those juices coat your fingers."

I do it. My body hums with awareness as he watches.

"Now look how beautiful you are being so needy for me."

He's right. Instead of seeing the flab of my belly or the way my breasts are smaller than I'd like, instead I see my flushed, pink nipples and the flare of my hips as I spread wider for him.

I see his powerful shoulders tensed with need. I feel the evidence of it behind me in his swollen erection, and I rub faster, filled with need and pleasure and desire.

"Stop."

Panting, I do as I'm told.

"Get on the bed."

With shaking limbs and a throbbing clit, I hurry to obey.

"Where do you think you're going?" A hand on my ankle yanks me back as I crawl onto the mattress, before I can turn over.

He slaps my ass. "Ass up, like a good little girl. Let me see you arch your back and get ready for my cock."

My back arches instantly, displaying my pussy for him. I throb with need for him but it's still a surprise when the fat head pushes just inside. I gasp when he thrusts further still, parting me, spreading me wider than I think I can go.

Then he nudges inside, slides in deep, and my toes curl as my hands grab for something to hold.

"This one's just for you, Justine."

I don't have long to wonder what he means. Ronan holds my hips and begins thrusting, hitting that very spot where I wanted him. With all the teasing, my legs are already shaking. My walls tighten around him.

"Just for you. Take what you want. Close your eyes and take it. But know the next one is for me and I want you looking at me."

Oh! He means my orgasm. I don't think I could hold it back if I tried.

The mounting pressure builds as if I'm on the runway knowing the plane is about to take off.

When it finally happens, I'm genuinely flying for a moment. I forget all about what happened earlier. Any worries about how big my ass looks like this disappear. All I can do is feel Ronan thrust on and on, shallow and unrelenting, sending me soaring into a climax that seems to last an age.