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“No.” He shoves two fingers inside of me, making me moan like the weak woman that I am. In agony. In defeat. “Oh yeah. You really can’t stand me now.”
My hands fall to his shoulders and I cling to him, closing my eyes so I don’t have to see the smug expression on his stupidly handsome face. I don’t even know why we’re arguing, but of course it leads to this.
It always leads to this.
A gasp escapes me when he removes his fingers from within my body and grabs hold of my waist, lifting me up. My legs automatically wrap around his hips, anchoring myself to him.
“Look at me,” he demands and I slowly open my eyes to find his face in mine, his expression completely closed off, yet his eyes are full of turbulent emotion. “Don’t ever forget who you belong to. You’re a Constantine now.”
I say nothing. There’s no point in arguing because it’s true. I am a Constantine now.
Whether I like it or not.
“If I ever find out that piece of shit tried to talk to you, I’m killing him.” He leans in, his mouth at my temple, kissing me tenderly. “I don’t care if it starts a full-scale war, I’ll tear him apart, and enjoy every second of it too.”
I’m trembling so hard my teeth start to chatter.
“Did you see they’re talking about our wedding on the gossip sites?” His voice is so casual, yet also edged with fury.
“N-no.” I shake my head.
“Tinsley sent me a few links earlier. She wanted to warn me.” He tilts his head, his mouth brushing against mine as he speaks. “Not that I care. He’s the asshole who shouldn’t have been there, sniffing around his ex.”
“I—”
He rests his fingers against my lips, silencing me. “Don’t tell me how you feel about him, or me or anyone else. I don’t want to know.”
We stare at each other, our chests brushing with every accelerated breath, my core throbbing, my entire body aching.
Despite everything he just said, the threats he made, and how scared I feel, there is one thing that still remains clear.
I want him. And he knows it.
I think he wants me too.
He pushes his fingers in between my lips and I let him, our gazes never straying. I pull them in further, licking his fingertips with my tongue and his eyelids grow heavy as he watches me suck his fingers like they’re his dick.
“Did you ever suck his cock?” he asks me.
I pause, not wanting to answer him. He doesn’t want to hear the truth.
But my pause is answer enough because he rips his fingers from my lips and kisses me, his mouth rough, his tongue like a weapon as it lashes with mine. I moan low in my throat, letting him do whatever he wants to me, knowing in the end I’ll get what I want.
Him. Buried deep inside of me.
His hands are everywhere, tugging at my bikini, reaching behind me to undo the tie before he’s shoving the top out of the way. He squeezes my breast, his fingers working my nipple as he continues to kiss me and I lean into his palm, craving more.
When he ends the kiss, I whimper, but he ignores me, wrapping his lips around my nipple. A softohleaves me and I grip the back of his head, my fingers entwined with his wet hair as I hold him to me.
He sucks hard, his tongue lashing at my flesh before he pulls away, teasing my nipple with soft flickers of his tongue.
“This is what I wanted to do to you last night,” he growls against my chest. “You were so fucking drunk, there was no way I was going to touch you.”
“I wouldn’t have stopped you,” I admit.
He pauses, his gaze finding mine. “I wanted you to remember.”
Perry continues lavishing his attention on my breasts. Until my bikini top is long gone, floating away on the water. I grip him to me, squeezing my legs around his hips, the unmistakable ridge of his erection pressed against my center and I shift my hips in an attempt to rub against him.
