Possessed By You (The Consumed Series Book 3) Page 3

  “Enrique, stop. A pre-nup isn’t happening.”

  The sentence stuns me, although it shouldn’t.

  Benjamin shakes his head at whatever Enrique is saying, his hand clenched into a fist at his side.

  A pre-nuptial agreement is desired for a man of his standing. He owns most of New York and various other pieces of the world. His fortune must be protected. The only reason my mood shifts at the word is the implication that I’ll be marrying him for money.

  The thought of a contract being laid out before me, obscene numbers granted to me in case this marriage should fail, as if I wanted any of that from him, ignites a sour taste in my mouth.

  “She isn’t like that. For heaven’s sake, you spent time with her! You know she isn’t capable of being that cruel…I know, of course I know money changes people. It’s not like that with her.”

  He listens for a long time, clearly frustrated, dragging his hand through his hair and tugging on the ends. “I don’t want to ask that of her. You don’t understand. It will ruin everything.”

  I can imagine Enrique’s response. You have to protect yourself, Benjamin.

  “Fine, send it to me.” He hangs up and remains completely still, consumed in his own thoughts while the company sets up the altar by the ocean.

  My cheeks are aflame. I’m not sure if it’s embarrassment, for him or for me.

  While I despise the aspect of it, his lawyer is right. Benjamin has every right to protect himself. I sit on the bed, needing to rid of the unease that has befallen me for eavesdropping on a conversation I should never have heard, and wait to hear his footsteps.

  They come only moments later, accompanied by a soft rap on the door.

  I stand nervously. “Come in.”

  Benjamin opens the door, standing under the threshold, dauntingly beautiful.

  “You aren’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding.”

  He’s visibly uncomfortable, holding himself stiffly. It’s clear he’s come to inform me of the prenuptial agreement. “I know. I’m sorry. I just have to talk to you about something before we do this.”

  “Okay.”

  I expect him to speak, but his eyes do all the talking, gliding over my face, the dress. His intent is flattering, easily warranting a blush in my cheeks as I wait for him to say something else.

  “You’re magnificent, Darcy,” he admits, no doubt recognizing my hesitance.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m serious.” He steps into the room. “I’m so lucky to have you…lucky you want to marry me.”

  He comes close enough to take my hand but won’t meet my gaze.

  “Well, I came in here to, uh, to tell you…” He clears his throat, trying to find the right words, and I give him the time to do it. “To…to see if you wanted to stay a couple of days longer.”

  That wasn’t what I was expecting, and judging by the way his breath leaves him quick, his chest deflating, it wasn’t what he was expecting either.

  He didn’t do it. He didn’t ask.

  I try to recover as fast as I can. “Stay longer?”

  “Yes. We could make this our honeymoon,” he continues, nodding mostly to himself. When he lifts his gaze from my hand, his eyes clearing the fog, I realize he’s thrown away the idea of asking. I agree with a nod. He caresses the skin between my thumb and forefinger and smiles.

  “All right, then.”

  He turns with the intent to leave.

  I’m blurting out words before I even know it. “I’ll sign anything you need me to, Ben.”

  He freezes, his shoulders tensing for a moment. When he twists, his eyes clouded yet again, he recovers his disbelief. “How did you know?”

  “I heard you.” I gesture my head toward the sliding glass door.

  “I’m sorry you heard that. I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “I understand you’re an important man, Ben. It’s smart for you to do it, so I’ll sign whatever you like.”

  “You’re not signing anything except our marriage certificate.”

  I stare at him.

  “I trust you with everything I have. I trust you, and I never want you to believe I don’t. I had honestly forgotten about even the possibility of one until he called me after I emailed him about our wedding plans.”

  “Are you sure? Benjamin—”

  “We’re not talking about this anymore,” he says sternly. Having lost all hesitance he exuded when he entered, he takes me in his arms.

  “Let’s get married.”

  My smile widens. “Let’s do it.”

  ***

  “The Wedding March” is being played by a lone violinist, and the cheerful melody makes my knees knock together in fear. I focus on my bare feet against the makeshift aisle that has been assembled, which is leading me toward the shoreline and toward my future husband.

  Conjuring up all courage within me, I lift my gaze, my heart beating wildly. At the end of the aisle, Benjamin is staring at me, a smile splitting his face in two. It’s an unusually breathtaking smile, and oddly, one I’ve never seen before. It’s contagious. I can’t control mine either.

  I’m the luckiest woman alive. I know it full well. If it wouldn’t make me a complete fool, I’d be running to him. Benjamin takes my hand the minute I’m close, planting me before the minister, who smiles at both of us.

  When he begins to speak, my eyes soak in the setting. The clear sky, the singing wind through the branches of the trees, the crash of waves along the shoreline. Sand swirls in the air but magically doesn’t hit us.

  It’s perfect we’re alone. I look back at him, blushing when I find him watching me.

  I’m saying “I do” before I know it, holding my breath as I wait for his vow. With relief, I let out that breath as the two words ring strong and confident in his low tone.

  There’s no dreaded pause of thought, no crack in the declaration.

  We’re both clearly so sure of this.

  When rings are produced, I chuckle, amazed by how much Benjamin was able to accomplish with only a day to prepare. He takes the slim silver band and slips it onto my finger. Visibly shaking, I take his and, less confidently, slide it onto his ring finger. He flexes his hand and admires it, his expression full of wonder.

  I doubt he ever believed he’d have such a promise on his hand.

  Our eyes don’t leave each other as the minister concludes the ceremony.

  Benjamin squeezes my hand tightly and mouths, “I love you.”

  With hopeful tears in my eyes, I mouth it back.

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  We collide, as if we’ve been waiting our entire lives to make it to this point and can only now race to the finish line. His hands are buried in my hair, my fingers pressed to his smooth jaw. Our mouths, pressed and formed as one, begin to smile together.

  When we detach and everything in my world tilts on axis, only then does this become real. Benjamin’s lips are against my ring finger, and my eyes are drinking in the sight of him…my husband.

  CHAPTER THREE

  True to his word, the only contract I signed was the marriage certificate.

  Darcy Scott. Mrs. Benjamin Scott.

  The water paints orange and red in front of me, the Indonesian air thick and moist. Benjamin is escorting the wedding crew to the boat that will allow us to be alone once again. My mind is alive, full of accomplishment and blinding happiness. Because as of today, Benjamin is truly mine.

  Having not heard him approach, arms encompass my waist from behind. Knowing it’s only him and me, I relax into his hard frame, wanting to remain in this moment for just a bit longer.

  The sky is a hazy pink color when Benjamin slips his hand into mine and laces our fingers together. We enter the bedroom, a quiet understanding between us. While Benjamin flicks on a light, I stand at the threshold, hardly breathing, oddly nervous.

  “You’re my wife,” he says, planting himself a few feet from me.

  I nod and he chuckles, sha
king his head.

  “What?”

  Obviously amused, he says, “I just never thought I’d ever say that.”

  He saunters to me, taking his time crossing the space. When my cheek is against his palm, my eyes close, savoring his touch. “I never want you to stop saying it.”

  “I never will.”

  Benjamin bends his head, sealing his mouth over mine, ridding the entire world from this room. There is no past, no other life we have to go back to. Right now, we are our own entity, safely trapped in this private place where we can love and scream and worship without reluctance.

  Our hands move in patterns. In his caresses, he relieves the straps from my shoulders and, tracing my curves with his palms, urges the soft material down. The dress slides on its own until it passes my hips and drops with finality around my feet. I’ve worked over his chest, untucked and buttoned his shirt, which displays a glimpse of the washboard abs hidden beneath.

  His breath is coming in short gasps when I’m discarding his belt, adoring his chest with rough kisses. His skin tastes of ocean and flames that came from the fire pit that’s still roaring outside. Driven mad, I praise him with desire, trailing myself down his body while my hands shove his slacks lower until he can step out of them. My lips hover over the trail of hair at the base of his stomach, my hand stretching over the front of his briefs.

  I’m on my knees, consumed by so much need that I can hardly move.

  I take hold of his briefs and slowly guide them down, my face tilting up to give him my eyes. His eyes won’t miss this, his hand sinking into my hair.

  The second I take him in my mouth, his head falls back, a startled sound erupting from his chest. Enjoying his abandon, I watch intensely while he struggles to keep his composure, struggles for air. I trail my fingers over his muscular thighs, and a shudder snakes through him.

  My hair is trapped tight in his grip as I lap the length of him, dragging my tongue over his girth. He’s extremely aroused, painfully erect due to my teasing.

  When I suction my mouth around him, taking as much in as I can, he gives himself into his surrender, allowing me to own him, to completely overpower him. It won’t last for long, so I bask in it.

  “Fuck,” he gasps when my fingers descend further than his cock to massage his balls, intent on running this pleasure through. However, his grip tightens on my hair almost painfully as he drags me back up to his face. “I need you.”

  He devours my mouth, forcefully enough that I fall back a step, but he catches me. He guides me without breaking toward the bed, until my knees hit the side.

  While I scoot back into the mattress, he follows, a dark, sexy presence ready to possess me. My arms surround him as he settles naturally between my legs. His mouth drifts from mine to my jaw, my earlobe, my throat, until he’s hovering against my breasts. His fingers knead the peaks, no doubt feeling how fast my blood is pumping, evidence of what he does to me.

  He devotes his mouth, his tongue, his attention to my nipples, suckling greedily. His teeth nipping make goose bumps arise throughout my skin. He’s ravenous and intense, sliding my panties down my thighs, his breath hot against my ribs.

  “I can’t believe we’re married,” I whisper into suffocating air. When he’s rid me of my last article of clothing, his hands glide up my legs and flatten against my thighs, spreading them further apart so he can move over me.

  “I like it,” he responds.

  I’m small beneath him and aware of how massive he is. His dark green eyes gleam with lust, urged on by my submission. We’re pressed up to each other, hands full of sensitive flesh as he slides into me slowly.

  He swallows my moan with his mouth and rocks into me, leaving one hand beside my head to steady himself. I expect his usual aggression but receive something else entirely. Instead of rough torture, mind-blowing pounds, he grinds into my cervix with slow passion. A smile breaks across his face while he looks down at me, and I’m breathless.

  He looks so happy.

  His body is heavy on mine, but the perfect kind of heavy. It’s the heaviness you hope to feel every day for the rest of your life.

  Joined in the deepest way possible, I’m struck by realizations, one that stands out above all the others.

  I’ll never be alone again.

  No matter what happens from here on, I know he’s with me, and that’s enough.

  It’s really enough.

  Somewhere we shift, both ending on our sides, my back molded against his chest. He enters me from behind, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. His hand is burning my hip. His moans praise my ears as he presses his face into my neck, giving all to me.

  My muscles tense, contracting as they prepare for a wave of pleasure. He’s buried deep, nudging my cervix over and over again. My own shaking rakes through him.

  “Ben.”

  “Come, love. Come for me,” he urges, aware of how close I am. At the first explosion, I squeeze my eyes shut, my mouth dropping open as the orgasm courses through me in repetitive droves. Instead of following suit, he continues to slide in and out, dragging on the ecstasy. His lips are at my neck when I come down, but he doesn’t let go. He grasps my jaw, snapping it toward his. He takes my mouth fiercely, and his rhythm strengthens.

  “Touch yourself,” he whispers onto my lips, indicating he’s not going to come until I do again. I lay my trembling fingers over my sensitive sex and bite my lip while I circle my clit.

  He groans, shoving his head into my shoulder, never faltering. “God, you’re clenching so hard around me.” He kneads my breast, my puckered nipple. Our bodies coated in sweat, we move in perfect unison, unnaturally aware of each other’s bodies.

  “I’m going to come,” I say, knowing I’m about to scream. He grabs my face, nodding as he kisses me.

  “Fuck, baby. Yes, do it,” he gasps.

  I cry out, unable to stop my body from squirming. Benjamin covers my fingers with his hand, rubbing out the pleasure to make sure I experience my full orgasm. His thrusts begin to slow, his breath catching against my face as he lets go and with one final slam releases himself within me.

  Time stops. We lay suspended in the astonishment, the aches, the high, completely still. His chest moves in time with mine, his gulps of air just as desperate as my own. He only shifts to pull me closer, one hand covering my breast as he nuzzles into my throat.

  I lean my head back onto his chest. He moves my damp hair away from my face and rests his head on my shoulder.

  “That was amazing,” I whisper. I feel his body shake with soft laughter.

  “Yes, it was.”

  I can’t help shivering as he gently runs his hand over the length of my body. Happily enclosed in this warm embrace, I stare at the silver band on my hand. Reaching down, I take his hand off my breast and hold it up with mine, examining both our rings. Without looking back, I know he is too.

  “I can’t believe we did this.”

  “I thought of it before,” he admits after a moment. This is news to me.

  “When?”

  “Just before the trial.”

  I tilt my head to find his eyes, disbelieving. “The trial? I was a constant mess those months. You wanted to marry me?”

  “Yes, although it would have been to prove something, rather than what this was…I wanted you to know I wasn’t going to leave.”

  “I could have been sentenced to a lot more time, Ben. Years, a lifetime. That would have been insane.”

  He stares at me, blinking slowly. “Darcy, you are it for me. You have to know that by now.”

  I brighten, finding it hard to remain still.

  “I couldn’t have this with anyone else. I wouldn’t.”

  “You are it for me too,” I tell him, my heart bursting.

  ***

  We move in unison with each other, reheating the pasta we abandoned in our desperation. I chop the lettuce for the salad while Benjamin sets up the table outside on the patio. Dressed in a matching robe, he looks thoroughly fucke
d, his raven hair wild in the wind. He heads back into the room, smiling when he catches my eyes on him.

  “You better be careful. If you keep staring, you’re gonna take off a finger.”

  I blush what I am sure is beet red. “You, sir, are no gentleman.”

  He circles the island, sneaking up behind me, and wraps his hands around my waist, kissing the back of my head. “I like you staring at me. God knows I do it enough with you.”

  I scoff and roll my eyes but love his words.

  “What? You know I can’t stop looking at you.” He moves his hands up to the sash that’s holding my robe together. I stop chopping as he begins to unravel it, reaching one hand under the fabric to grasp my breast. “I can’t keep my hands off of you either.”

  The robe parts, and the sash drops to the ground. Nibbling on the sensitive skin below my ear, his other hand travels down…down…down.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, with two more orgasms under my belt, we finally get to the table, ready to eat. Famished but still high from the post-coital bliss, we sit close to each other, eating slow and talking fast.

  I lay my legs over his, taking a sip of my wine. “When you said stay longer, did you mean it?”

  “Yes. When I talked to Cindy, I told her I was planning to propose and, if possible, elope. Mind you, I wasn’t expecting to do it in the shower, but it just happened. That’s why she let you go at such a busy time. She said to just let her know when you’ll be back.”

  “She’s honestly way too good to me.”

  I admit, part of me believes she said yes because the publicity will explode upon the news of Benjamin’s nuptials, which will only help her company. But I try to believe she’s truly, genuinely happy for me.

  “She admires you. When she told me she was planning on making you an editor, she gushed for a good half hour, not even kidding.”

  “You talked to her before she did it?” I ask, glancing up at him.