“Wes…really. Anton’s just messin’ around. Relax.” I went over to his side, and he tugged me closer. I kept forgetting that since his captivity he had this new jealousy trigger that I was not used to or particularly fond of. It positively irked me to no end that he suspected every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the near vicinity to be making a play for my attention, which really wasn’t the case. Not even close. Even last night, he’d gotten into it with the waiter at dinner because, according to Wes, the guy had sized up my chest. Surprise, surprise. I have huge knockers. Most men size up my breasts. I’m so used to it that I notice it more when a man doesn’t talk directly to my chest when he first meets me than when he does.
Anton came over to both of us. “Weston, amigo, I am happy for you and Mia. It fills my heart with extreme joy to hear that she has found her forever. I can see, too, that you are taken with her. As am I. As an amiga. Nothing more, nothing less. I say these things, how you say, piloto automatico? Mia is a hermosa mujer.”
I remembered Heather telling me that hermosa mujer meant “beautiful woman.”
“Your fiancée, she brings out the silly side. You understand? Si?"
Wes exhaled slowly, and his shoulders visibly relaxed to a normal position. He closed his eyes and tipped his chin down as if in supplication. “I’m sorry, Anton. I don’t know what’s going on. Even her friends are bringing out a fierce side in me. Please, forgive me, okay?” Wes’s request was sincere, and I could tell that, with Anton, it would be immediately forgiven. He was not the type to hold on to trivial misunderstandings.
“Ah, no problemo. Now, mu?eca, where do you want me for this interview?”
“Um, let's start with the room with all the Puerto Rican art.”
Anton grinned. “See you there.”
I waited until Anton was out of the room, grabbed Wes’s hand, and took him down the hall to the back of the penthouse where I knew Anton’s den was located. The second we got there, I held the door open so that Wes could precede me.
A million emotions were storming through my system, and there was only one way I knew to get them out fast. Between him spilling his love for me on national television all the way to the caveman macho man threats, my entire body was tingling with excitement, happiness, anger, fear, anxiety, and everything in between.
The second I got through the door I closed it, spun on a heel, and threw my arms around Wes. Before he could speak, my mouth was on his and my tongue down his throat. Thank. God. He tasted like a thousand tiny Pop Rocks candies sizzling over my tongue. I moaned into his mouth as he palmed my ass. I sucked his bottom lip at the same time I pushed against his chest until he fell onto a long padded bench. The thing could have been used for sitting in front of the fireplace or as a footrest. I had no flipping clue, but I knew exactly what I’d be using it for right now, and if I knew Anton well, which I thought I did, he’d give me one helluva slow clap.
“Whoa, sweetheart, what’s going on? I thought you were going to ream me for going all alpha asshole on your friend. Honestly, I don’t know what came over me.”
I didn’t really care. Frankly, I was more focused on getting his belt undone than anything else.
I pulled my skirt up to my waist. Wes couldn't decide whether to open or close his mouth, and his eyes were riveted to my exposed skin. I’d worn black thigh highs and a simple black lace thong under my pencil skirt.
“Look, we don’t have a lot of time, but I need you. Right here. Right now. So whip it out.”
My man eyed me like I was a chocolate donut sitting next to his cup of coffee. “Christ, I’m marrying the perfect fucking woman.”
Wes lifted up in a squat style move, unbuckled his belt, and exposed his hardening shaft. He stroked it until there was a pearl of liquid on the tip and it had grown to full size. I knelt on the bench and licked the crown, allowing that tasty pearl to coat my tongue before I swallowed him down.
“Fuck, yeah.” Before I could move into a better position, a searing blast hit my bare ass once, twice, three times. “Don’t you dare suck me off,” he growled and pulled me away by gripping a handful of my hair. The hair stylist was going to be so pissed.
Wes sat down on the bench, and I whimpered at the sight of his dick so hard and ready. He leaned back, both hands on the flat leather edges of the bench to support his weight. “Straddle me. Take me to the root. All the way to the very end.”
Happily, I straddled the bench, pushed aside my thong, centered his wet tip at the entrance to my sex, and slowly slid down. Inch by tantalizing inch, his thickness stretched and filled me. Once he was rooted deep, with my ass cheeks pressing against the soft skin of his balls and the scratchy zipper from his opened pants, I leaned back.
“I want to watch you take what you need, sweetheart. Now move.” His voice was a low, throaty rumble that sent another zing of lust running through my system.