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CHAPTER
ONE
ABIGAIL
“I’m serious, Garr,” I huff at Garrison as I hastily shove the handful of panties into my suitcase.
“I’m serious, too,” he smirks. “Make sure you pack that little black crotchless thing I like.”
“Excuse you, sir.” I lift the lacy black negligee from the drawer and hold it against me. “But this is not suitable attire for meeting one’s future father-in-law.”
“Trust me, he’d love it,” Garrison mocks me as he swipes it from my hands and places it neatly in my suitcase. Wrapping his large arms around me and kissing along my neck, he whispers, “We both know I won’t make it two days without fucking you, let alone a whole week. You’re packing it.”
“Fine,” I exhale and practically feel his smug smile stretching across his face.
Pacing through the bedroom, I repeatedly open dresser drawers and flip through hangers in the closet, trying to figure out what it is that I’m forgetting.
“Really though.” I fumble through a drawer. “What if he doesn’t like me?”
“Abby.” Garrison’s voice is gruff as he sits on the edge of the bed.
“Garrison,” I mock his tone before shrugging, “You don’t get it. You’ve got more money than you could ever spend. You know how that looks when someone like me marries into that.”
Like I’m a gold-digging whore…
Unlike him, I come from nothing. Less than nothing. Both my parents were significantly more concerned with getting their next fix than ensuring we had food on the table or a roof over our heads. Most of my childhood was spent sleeping on the backseat of the rusted Chevy Caprice or fighting off unwanted advances when we crashed with my parents’ friends. I’ve eaten more meals from a dumpster behind a restaurant than I care to count.
As awful as it is to say, the best day of my life was when the two of them overdosed from a cheap fix laced with too much fentanyl. From that night on, I had a roof over my head and food to eat as a ward of the state.
“Hey.” Garrison stretches out his hand for me to join him. “You are a talented and successful artist.”
“No, I’m a starving artist mooching off her extremely rich fiancé.” I take his hand and he pulls me between his thighs.
His large hands wrap around my waist, and I stare down at him as I let out an exasperated sigh. “He’s going to hate me.”
“You’re stressing about this way too much.” Garrison’s hands comfortingly rub over my hips.
“That’s because you’re not stressing about this nearly enough.”
Without breaking eye contact with me, his fingers tip into the top of my jeans, swiftly undoing the button. Gripping the zipper, he takes his time lowering it.
“Garr” I playfully swat at his hand. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you relax, angel.” His fingers slide beneath the silk of my panties.
“We don’t have ti—” My words interrupted by my hitched breath as he slides two large fingers inside of me.
“We can be a little late.” His fingers curl as he works against the tight confines of my skinny jeans to thrust them inside my pussy. Wrapping his other hand delicately around my throat, he pulls my face down to his to claim my mouth. The kiss is slow and deep, matching the fingers currently being used to pleasure me.
Whimpering as he pulls back from our kiss, my nails dig into his shoulders as he works me to the brink.
“Let go, angel.” His words vibrate against my lips as he adds the pad of his thumb to my clit.
“Yes,” I moan as I come, my thighs tremble around his hand so hard I struggle to stay standing.
Pulling his fingers from me, my body quivers when he slides them over my clit as he withdraws them from my pants. He pauses to wipe the wetness of my arousal on the bed sheets, lifts my zipper and rebuttons my pants. Standing from the bed, he grips my chin as he lifts my face up to his. “Feel better?”
“I mean, I don’t feel worse,” I smirk at him.
