AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She snickers. “I’m actually not complaining. I always wanted to be beautiful enough to be someone’s arm candy.”
“You’ve always been beautiful enough.” I run my thumbs along the side of her foot and smile at the perfect French pedicure. She’s more of a sparkling purple, chipped nail polish kind of girl, but she dotted all the i’s for tonight.
“I get to be a pain-free trophy. I appreciate your forethought, Mr. Kincaid.” She pops open an eye and smirks. “Very thoughtful of you.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Kincaid, though it’s not completely selfless. I’d really like to fuck you in these later.” I dig my thumb into her sore muscle. “I want to fuck you, baby, and I don’t want you to be thinking about sore feet.”
Pleasure rumbles though her chest. “Mmm. I approve. You gonna fuck me till it hurts, Bobby? Then when I tell you to stop, will you make me beg to get you to go again?”
My cock jumps and twitches as I think about fucking her hard enough to make her ask me to stop. Then beg me to start again.
Yes-fucking-please.
“Uh-huh. You look beautiful, by the way. Did I say that yet?”
She smiles and reaches across to run her nails along my thigh. “You did, but thank you.”
“Your feet look amazing, too.” I bring it up and nip at her ankle. “I had no clue feet could look so pretty.”
“Best forty bucks I ever spent. Seriously. They massage your feet, they bring you champagne if you ask for it, then you get to sit in a vibrating chair for an hour and gossip with Tink and Iz. Best day ever.”
“You like things that vibrate, baby?” I wait until her eyes slit open and meet mine. “I could get something for home.”
She looks me straight in the eyes in challenge. “Maybe…”
My fucking pleasure.
My body vibrates with need to tear her pretty dress to shreds and relieve some pressure, but knowing she put hours of work into her appearance, I manage to stay put.
Barely.
Change the subject. Fuck her. Change the subject. Fuck her until she cries at me to stop. Don’t ruin her outfit. “Are you excited for tonight?” Not only is she Catherine Kincaid – Bobby Kincaid’s wife, but she’s also Catherine Reilly – of the high-profile kidnapping and assault from last year.
She has more reason than one to be nervous once we step out of this car in front of all the cameras this evening.
I’ll do my best to shield her, but she knows the realities. She knows the media will ask.
“Yeah, I’m definitely excited for your big night. My husband’s being celebrated for being awesome. Hell yeah, I’m excited.”
Evade. Evade. Evade.
“Kit.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she sighs. “The media can go fuck themselves with your imaginary vibrating dildos. We’re here to celebrate with you, babe.Foryou,aboutyou. My husband is Bobby Kincaid.” Her eyes dance with pride. “Tonight, I’m good. I promise.”
Yeah.That. That’s exactly why I married her. And that’s the reason she got herself out of trouble in December. She’s the strongest fucking woman I know.
“I love you, you know that?” I push her feet down and pull her toward me.
“I do know that. But don’t ever stop saying it. Okay?”
“Never.”
* * *
Our limousine pulls up to the curb outside the hotel and function center, and even though the media have no idea who’s inside it, theclick, click, clickingof their fucking cameras and clamoring feet start anyway.
“Are you ready, baby?” I turn and watch her fidget with her hair and makeup for the tenth time in two minutes. Despite her brave speech, she’s still my shy Kit, my self-conscious Kit.
