Page 7 of Cruel Dynasty

He finally dropped his hands, the hint of a grin playing on his handsome face. “Are you saying that we could do worse?”

“I guess,” I teased, relaxing a little to hear him crack a joke. “Actually, I think we’re lucky. I think we could be happy.”

It was the truth. I believed Spencer could make Kerrigan happy. I believed that he wanted a real marriage. Why else would he have demanded we—or rather they—forego a prenup? Why did he care so much about bringing me to climax as much as possible? He was still keeping distance between us as if waiting for something to go wrong, but he’d shown repeatedly that he wanted me.

He wants her, the voice in my head reminded me, and you will never be her.

“What was that?” Spencer asked.

I shook my head, freeing myself from my conscience. “What?”

“You flinched like you were in pain. Are you okay?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about dealing with Holden.” It was an easy lie to reach for, but I regretted it when his eyes darkened.

“We can’t get away from him no matter how hard we try,” he grumbled. Spencer shoved his hand through his hair and glanced toward the side table, avoiding my eyes. Bringing up Holden had returned him to the gloomy state he’d been in when we first arrived. We’d taken two steps forward and three back. Would it always be like this? “I should order room service. You’re hungry.”

Part of my job, if it could be called that, was to keep Spencer happy. I told myself that I needed to do something because of that, but the truth was more complicated. An acidic taste coated my tongue as I realized that I didn’t want to soothe him because of the arrangement. I just wanted to see him smile—like he had the night he’d finally proposed. Things hadn’t felt so dire that day. Actually, we’d both been almost giddy since—until tonight. Until the party.

Weren’t parties supposed to be fun? All I felt was a vague and frustrating sense of duty to attend, and this was the second time I’d left a group gathering wishing I’d never gone at all.

I needed to do something to change the mood.

“You’re quiet,” he noted and my gaze fluttered back to him.

I pushed a smile onto my lips as I reached a hand behind my back. It was dark enough in the suite that Spencer couldn’t see what I was up to. That gave me the element of surprise, which I was certain I needed if I was going to get his mind off his brother.

“I was just thinking...that I am hungry.” I dropped my voice into a silky murmur that seemed to ooze across the room. “But not for food.” I had already unzipped my dress to the small of my back. Now I slipped it off my shoulders and allowed it to puddle at my feet.

He shifted in his seat, throwing his arms over the back of the chair, and relaxed. His gaze burned into me as I dropped to one knee, then the other. Leaning forward, I planted my palms on the ground. Spencer’s hand found his crotch and he adjusted himself as I moved on all fours toward him. It felt deliciously dirty to crawl, breasts swaying and my naked sex exposed to the air. When I reached his feet, I waited for a moment. Somehow, I knew that was what he wanted—what he expected. He shifted, reaching down to grip my chin and tilt my face up. “What are you hungry for?”

I nuzzled my face against his hand as I sat back on my knees. But when I reached for his belt, he caught my wrist with his other hand.

“I asked you what you’re hungry for,” he repeated himself.

“You,” I murmured, my eyelashes fluttering to the floor. I wasn’t sure what I’d done wrong, but it must have been something because he didn’t release me.

“Open your eyes,” he said gruffly, his eyes boring into mine. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. His hand was still on my chin. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

I flushed, excitement and embarrassment fighting for control of my thoughts. “Your...cock.”

“That wasn’t very convincing.” He released me and relaxed into the chair again. “Try again—and Kerrigan—ask nicely.”

So that was how he wanted to play it. I might have been annoyed by his game, if each second that I kneeled, naked, before him, wasn’t turning me on more and more. Spencer didn’t bother to look away. Instead, they skated over me, drinking in my flesh, fucking me with his eyes until I could feel myself getting slicker and hotter.

“Please, may I have your cock?” I whispered, but there was nothing timid about the request. Instead, I pressed my face to the inside of his trouser, kissing his thigh through the fabric. “Please give me your cock.” I continued kissing, moving my body to nestle between his wide-open legs. “I want to taste you...I want to taste your cock.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Please,” I added quickly.

“Since you’re being so polite.” He loosened his belt. It fell open and he proceeded to unzip his pants. I licked my lower lip as he pulled his dick out. He’d started to harden already, but I knew that his already generous organ would get harder and longer—and I wanted every inch of it. But when I bent to take it in my mouth he held up a finger. Adjusting his pants, he freed his balls. He smiled as he issued a one word command: “Lick.”

I’d told him I was hungry for him and it seemed he wanted me to prove it. I’d given him a blow job before, but I’d already lost count of the number of times he’d crept between my thighs to put his mouth on me. Spencer devoured me like he’d been starving his whole life. It was so intense that I often lost my handle on conscious thought. All I knew was that his mouth was claiming me.

I wanted him to feel the same way now.

Dipping my head, I brushed my tongue over his balls before drawing it up his shaft. He wanted me to lick and I wanted to please him. It was an urge that was becoming almost instinctual. I swirled and flicked, earning a grunt of approval that swelled in my chest. Spencer’s fingers caught the hair knotted at my neck and yanked my face up.