I clasped my purse strap like a talisman and stared at him. He lowered his hand gracefully and entered the dining room. I followed.

We navigated the restaurant. Some stopped eating and stared as he passed, but most ignored him.

We were placed at a small booth in the dining room's back. I chose one side and put my suitcase next to me to discourage him from sharing my seat, but he didn't try. Instead, he sat across from me, poured two enormous glasses of red wine, and ordered the asparagus salad for both of us.

He said, "You'll have asparagus."  I watched as he shook out and folded his napkin.I followed suit, although the tablecloth seemed long enough to act as a napkin. I adjusted it and draped it over my skirt.

King sat across from me, one arm on the booth, head cocked arrogantly.I was waging a losing war, not with King, but with myself.Luke King's sexiness was to blame.

He sighed. "You hung up before I asked what to wear."

"You choose this?"

I glanced down, feigning astonishment.

Before he could speak, the waitress brought our sandwiches. She chirped at him, but I wasn't listening. I was intrigued by his careful wineglass strokes. I didn't know he'd ordered my lunch until the waitress left.

"Miss Green, you're provoking me."

I re-eyed him. His look cut me deep.

"Maybe."

He reclined. "Why dress like a prostitute?"

"That's what I'll be, right?"

"No. You're my wife."

I scowled. I disagree, and I doubt many others would if they knew the reality. I'd rather be honest with you."

"You know who I am, Miss Green. This is just to shame me."

I handed out the amended contract with unsteady fingers. Luke King leaned back and flipped through it slowly. Ms. Stock underlined the revisions in the contract, so he lingered over each one while drinking wine. He looked up sometimes.

He rested. "None of these changes are very drastic," he said.

I'd been trying to ignore him and decide what to eat first, when he said.

He ate carefully. "Minor adjustments."

" Major modifications include a one-year contract review and renewal. I approve." He observed me for a while, then hailed a passing waiter.

He requested a pen.

Luke King initialed, signed, and dated each phrase and page in front of me using a ballpoint pen.

I drank my wine.

"Can't you sign today?"

"I..." My mind whirled. A Bic ballpoint would transform my life. My father would be back in business, while my mother would be through treatment.

My eyesight clouded. I attempted to breathe deeply, but my chest felt heavy.

"Miss Green?"

I saw a movement opposite me.

I didn't know what to do until I felt the booth lower and he slipped in next to me, concealing from the dining area.

He felt warm and powerful.I became jittery. My heartbeat quickened.

He said, "Don't pretend." He poured me more wine.

I responded, "No thanks."

He handed me wine and urged me to drink. I put his glass down.

He shook his head as I passed by. He replied, "I Like seeing you touch yourself in my elevator while thinking about me."

I panicked. He approached as I tensed. He kissed my ear.

"Don't be so smug," I shouted as he kissed my earlobe. "I haven't sex in six months-oh..."

Luke King's hot, gentle lips brushed on my pulse.

Under him, I shivered. Panting, I gripped the tablecloth to prevent from touching him back. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to taste him so badly.

"Our marriage would be mutually advantageous," he remarked. "You may like it,"

"No one likes forced sex for money," I said.

He grinned and brushed my hair. He kissed my throat and neck tenderly.

"I never force. Always desire."

My chest contorted. I knew but couldn't say it.

His breath warmed my neck. "Think I can't satisfy you? So? "

His words sank into my skin and bones, igniting me. How could I tell him that orgasms weren't my main concern?

His leg touched mine. I wished I'd worn trousers instead of a skirt because of his body heat. His fingers traced trembling patterns on my thigh. Lips and tongue danced with my delicate neck, and his fingers skimmed my breast swell. My thighs felt hot and wet.

"I could make you climax here," he hoarsely whispered.

"You'll scream,"

His statements infuriated me. "Try," I murmured.

Pulling back, he smiled again. "You're perfect," he remarked. " His fingertips tickled my leg and skirt. My throat was lumpy.

One long, hot finger touched my pussy's soft mound, distracting me.

I was still looking at the space where he had been and trying to summon the presence of mind to respond when I felt his enormous, hot hands on my knees.

He was squatting beneath the table, concealed by the huge table cloth.

.But my thighs split with the smallest touch from his hands, and I opened to him.

Slowly, slowly, one long finger penetrated me. I convulsed around him.

"Miss, do you need anything?"

The waitress was lingering at the table, staring at me strangely. She must've known.

My inner finger and toes curled.

"No!"

"Nothing. Thanks!"

She looked me oddly. "Lunch is coming. "

Luke King shifted beneath the table. Rough cheeks grazed my thighs.

OMG. No way!

"Ma'am?" Waitress asked, "You look sick."

I said, "Hangover a little, nothing."

I grabbed the wine glass I'd refused to mask my desperation.

Luke King sucked my clit and licked it.

I scarcely noticed when my hand knocked over my drink. I had just enough self-control to hide my head in my arms and cry into the table. As he suckled on my clit, lights erupted against my eyes. My knees curved over his shoulders, bringing him to me as I trembled with delight. The smooth, hazy roughness of his tongue tugged my clit and me into his lips. I felt like I could dissolve where I sat and be consumed without caring.

My whole body went numb as he licked back and forth between the two labia flaps with a delicate tongue. Then he alternated between inserting and removing his tongue from between my labia flap and the gutter.

He didn't stop even as I descended the heights moaning. As I looked around the restaurant, I felt everyone's eyes on me, and the humiliation sharpened my pleasure like a whetstone.

I raised my head. I looked at the waitress with a blushed face.

We exchanged lengthy glances. She knew. And I knew she knew.

I did my best. I covered my lips and held my stomach. I gasped, "Mr. King went to the bathroom.  Could you help me... find him?"

The waitress left the murder scene with wide-eyed dread. I didn't dare glance around to see who had seen my tremendous climax.

After a minute, Luke King appeared on the opposite side o, appearing calm and unflappable. Still panting, I met his stare and pushed down my skirt. My thighs stroked my pussy, causing aftershocks.

We gazed for a long time. He saved the contract from the spreading red wine.

He handed me the pen without a word.

He viewed me with desire-filled eyes.

I finally paused. I signed away my life.

I sobbed, "I'm an idiot."

Back at home

My best friend Odelia raised an eyebrow and smoked a cigarette.

"You don't care that my life is dying."

"You're not dying. You're married for money."

"Nope. For my mum, I married him." He discovered my Orgasm Button. Odelia only knew the first half. It's embarrassing.

Odelia shrugged, tapping ash into my tray.

"it's okay to marry for money. Yes"

"Yes, I would. I'm poor! And isn't he getting you anywhere in your career?" She pointed to my apartment's corner, where my newest sculpture sat unfinished until I could purchase more clay. I'd had numerous little gallery exhibits and done well, but the larger things took more money and effort than I could do after working 10-hour bar shifts.

Odelia may be right: marrying King might help my career.

He's bringing me to a speciality store in an hour to choose my dress and underwear.

Odelia said, "He's choosing your underpants."

"What sort of marriage?"

I glared. "The kind of marriage you'd expect from a wife-buyer."

She shrugged. She responded, "You can't cook." He could've found a nicer wife in England. She'd be sexier."

"Fuck you," I said. "You're not my best friend anymore."

I was worried since King hadn't mentioned friends or relatives.

Odelia snuffed her cigarette and stood. "When you're wealthy and on the headlines, don't forget the small folks, okay?"

I said "yes."

"Wanna be my hanger-on? I'll accept applications until the honeymoon."

She responded, "Sure!"

"Promise, or I'll tell everyone we know"

Not this time. I was still terrified. I sat up, took several deep breaths, and considered contacting my mom. I hadn't told her about my upcoming wedding .

I could sense her illness in her tired voice whenever we chatted. Overnight, the gap between us widened. Since my father arrived, I couldn't speak to her as I used to, even though we'd always chatted since I was a child. My father's betrayals brought us together, and she was my closest confidante.

I didn't want her to know I was getting married for money until the last minute. Luke King was affluent like my dad. He was a wealthy jerk. I couldn't stand the notion of her believing I was making the same mistake she had-she ordered me to quit our poisonous family and not look back-and I couldn't tell her I was paying for her chemo treatments, because she didn't want me to know.

I massaged my face, groaned, and checked my phone. I had 20 minutes to get to the vehicle and hadn't even showered. I should have gotten up but couldn't. I sat on my futon for ten minutes before I eventually got up, and then I had to hurry through a shower and makeup before putting on clothes when his driver called me and told me they're waiting downstairs.

He grinned and let me in.

Luke King entered.

I hadn't seen him since he licked me at our prenuptial agreement meeting. Persuading me to sign it, he dived beneath the table and penetrated me with his mouth and fingers, causing me to scream in front of everyone, including our server.

Exactly. I loved and loathed it. I'm such a weirdo!

Now Luke King was reading on a tablet in the backseat and ignoring me. My chest whirled with fear and exhilaration until I couldn't tell them apart. I climbed in, chin up. Cole slammed the door behind me, and I hid in the corner, half-hoping King would join me.

Nope.

He seldom spoke to me. When I peeked at his iPad, I saw an unknown report.

Ugh. Just like my father, who always carried his briefcase and Financial Journal-when he was home.

He's a jerk. I was set to marry his twin.

My ardor cooled and I groaned, settling for staring out the window, though I didn't actually see the buildings pass by until the vehicle slowed and I realized we were in Marseille.

Luke King closed his iPad and exited the vehicle beside me. I was astonished when he opened my door. I assumed his servants did it.

Formally, he greeted"Pardon my concern."

When I took his hand, my heart leapt. When his flesh contacted mine, a frisson of desire sent shivers down my spine and warmed my pussy. I couldn't prevent the flush on my cheeks as I suddenly caught my breath.

"Okay," I said. I kicked myself as he helped me out of the car and onto the street. "You're busy,"

He arched an eyebrow. I'd never seen such clarity in someone's eyes.

Or maybe my dumb clit decided. I started babbling. "So was my dad. Even at breakfast, he was always working. In his presence. He always had the paper out and got mad if I interrupted him..."

I didn't want to think about my father while semi-aroused. See? Even when he wasn't there, he ruined things.

"Okay. Whatever. " I mumbled, "I won't bother you."

He didn't even smile.

OMG.  I stared back so I wouldn't be the first to speak. The street emptied around us.

I shattered. "It's good you're marrying me," I said, "because I'll never find anyone else willing to listen to my blather."

At that, he smiled and took my hand in his Victorian-style elbow crook.

"Miss Green," he said, guiding me to the boutique, "you're my wife."

I followed him into the shop, surprised and pleased. I told him, "I have some inane stuff to say." "Are you sure you don't want to retract that?"

He laughed and put his arm around my shoulders as if we were a couple. I hated how his laugh rained on me. Also liked it. "I'll follow your will," he promised.

That was a challenge, but I didn't want to accept it. Instead, I said "thanks." I hesitantly wrapped my arm around his waist and felt his rock-hard body. I'd never touched him so intimately before. He was already nose-deep in my pussy, but I hadn't done anything to him.

The fire he stoked in the Italian restaurant flared up again, and I had to swallow my dry tongue and reconsider.

I wanted to sucking his scrotum. I wanted to suck it,.

The lean, well-built body next to me moved with barely-controlled energy, like a dancer or martial artist.

I moistened my lips .

"Elegance. "He said, "Nothing showy."

He was talking about my wedding dress. I sigh. I've always wanted a big tulle skirt.

Luke King released go of my shoulders and walked away.

Luke King stared at me for a bit, then motioned to the sales assistant. "Both. Bring a wedding dress and telenova."

The assistant murmured, "I don't believe we have telenova gowns."

"Whatever is nearest," King instructed.

"Thanks," I murmured, embarrassed.

I couldn't interpret his statement since the sales assistant returned with two clothes. I accepted them, thanked him, and headed for the dressing rooms.

Luke King walked into my dressing room,.

"Pardon?" As he entered, I remarked. There was space for two ladies. Luke King took up more room than his physique allowed.

I gripped my Telenova dress and stared.

He shrugged. "I thought you may need some help," he replied, as if his gaze weren't wandering over my body and the armload of tulle I held.

His aftershave and manly aroma captivated my nose. Last time we were in this position, he had his hands on my breasts just five minutes of our first encounter. I fought down the abrupt remembrance.

I knew from his green eyes that he was also remembering. Lips licked slowly.

I threw the dress at him. I said, "Here,"

Every inch of flesh he showed fed the fire. His breath rasped and his body tensed like a bow.

My blouse and pants fell off as I gasped for oxygen. Never felt so vulnerable. In my bra and pants, I felt like he was examining my bones.

He stood motionless as my pulse quickened and my lips parted.

He said, "Raise your arms."

I obeyed by licking my lips. He slipped my wedding gown over my head and guided my arms into the off-the-shoulder sleeves. His fingers were little rough, and they ruffled my nerves as they touched my arms.

He took the tight fabric from my face.

He said, "Turn."

Then I heard the zipper hiss as he carefully pushed up the dress.

As the dress's bodice tightened, I realized it was too tiny. "Er, I need a bigger size?"

"No," he answered thickly. "No, you don't,"

The tight bodice left me unable to breathe. His warm hands twisted me around.

He said, "Open your eyes."

"You're fantastic."

He stepped out of my path as I pointed to the door. I climbed the platform. First, I looked in the mirror.

Well... It wasn't a Telenova gown, but I instantly understood why the assistant laughed.

White, fluffy fabric swaddled me. My chest was lost in the frenzy of flowers and sparkle. My tiny shoulders couldn't support the neckline, and my boyish figure was lost in the enormous skirts. I looked like a youngster in her mom's wedding dress. Not womanly enough.

Not a surprise. I looked like a small girl, and never more so than when my life was slipping away.

I looked terrible in my fantasy dress.

I swallowed my emotions and ran back to the changing room with the skirt.

Luke scowled. "What's wrong?" he inquired. My disappointment must have been visible.

I shrugged bravely. I agreed. "I should go classy."

, I shut the door and massaged my eyes while he stood there.

He said, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I" I sputtered.

"I thought this outfit was wonderful. Nope. I want to appear like a princess in one, but..." I sighed. "Whatever. It's meaningless."

He paused. He answered, "I understand." "Could it be changed?""

"It's irrelevant." I twisted to reach the zipper.

He responded, "You've desired that outfit since you were a child."

I chuckled. "I'm not a young girl anymore, even though I appear like one."

He stretched his hands and thought. "The distance between dream and reality deepens with time,"

I responded, "Whatever." Tears blinding my eyes, I turned aside and unbuttoned the garment. I didn't want his fancy clothing.

His warm hands touched my shoulder. Some pitiful urge prevented me from ignoring him. Everything sucked. I wanted it fixed. Why wasn't I shopping with mom and Odelia? Why wasn't I marrying my boyfriend? How come?

My shoulder was squeezed. I sensed him withdrawing.

I took his hand.

I didn't know what to do with it when I caught it, so I remained there.

Luke hesitantly followed me. Then his fingers tightened, reigniting our electric charge.

"You look wonderful in white," he muttered, then pulled his hand away and began unraveling the dress, unhooking the fastenings, and tortuously pulling down the zipper. My back was slowly exposed, and he kissed every inch.

I was aroused. My legs went wobbly and I placed my hands on the wall to steady myself. His gentle, warm lips tugged feelings from my skin I didn't know existed, and I bit my lip.

I said, "Oh."

He withdrew.

"Joyce? "

I urged him, "Don't stop."

"What?"

I'd heard an edge in his voice when he'd trapped me in his office and made me come.

I said, "Keep kissing me."

"You can't make demands," he replied. Then he grabbed my neck and dragged me away from the wall.

This was a hazardous game, but I didn't care. I loved his lessons. His hard palm held me up as I sank against him.

He said, "Spread your legs." His breath drove goosebumps up my neck and scalp, and I obeyed without thinking. I widened my posture by walking outwards.

His palm grasped my hair, not cruelly but firmly. He controlled me.