But all thoughts are halted as an actual goddess appears from behind the door, looking like Bambi caught in headlights for a few seconds before her eyes connect with mine and she schools her features.
Jesus.
Long brunette hair that is left down and framing her face, a slight tan to her skin that almost glows, curves in all the right places that instantly make my dick want to go exploring, full lips that just beg to have your tongue run over them and your teeth nibble them as you work her into a frenzy… and those eyes… light blue’s that have an array of emotions swirling in them. Determination, feistiness, doubt, nerves, excitement… And those tight jeans, come-fuck-me ankle boots and sleeveless shirt that has a couple of buttons open at the top but in a classy way rather than a slutty way… Jesus, fuck.
She seems to snap out of whatever daze she was in and fixes me with a hard stare, her emotions shutting off, and in its place, nothing but confidence. She walks further into the room, her jaw clenched, her chin lifting slightly as she comes to a stop in front of my desk, and I allow my lips to pull into the smirk that I had been holding back as I looked up and down her beautiful body and naturally gorgeous face.
“Mr Knowles, my name is Kat Wiltshire, and I am here to ask a favour of you.”
Her voice is like fucking music to my ears.
This woman is sex on legs and then some.
And her words bring me nothing but joy.
“I am here to ask a favour of you.”
This is going to be fun…
The music starts to play, and the guests begin to stand. There are a fair few here because I am a fucking crime lord, so if people get invited to my wedding, they come, no questions asked.
I turn around as the doors open fully and watch as my bride stands there, the light framing her like an angel. I have to control my jaw from dropping because she is fucking stunning. Wearing a gorgeous cream dress that highlights her perfect curves and shows off her slightly tanned shoulders, I have to admit that I did fucking good when she failed to pay up. Her long brunette hair is curled around her face, hanging loose, just begging to be wrapped around my hands and pulled as I fuck her senseless.
And then there is her face. Her beautiful face which she has kept as natural as possible, but let’s be truthful here, the woman doesn’t need any make-up. She’s naturally gorgeous, and she doesn’t even realise it, which just makes her even sexier.
Yeah, I hit the fucking jackpot, and it’s a damn shame that I have to break her in order to make her see that it is only me who can own her heart, her body, her mind, and her soul.
She begins to walk down the aisle to the music, each footstep bringing her closer to me. God, I could literally pick her up like a damn caveman and carry her out of here, but I won’t because I have a job to do and a show to put on. So, I school my features, keep my face straight, all the while keeping my eyes on her.
Kat Wiltshire.
My wrecking ball.
She’s going to try and fight me; I can see it in her eyes.
That’s okay though, because it makes it more of a challenge, and a challenge is always sweeter when won.
You see, I’m going to be an absolute bastard to her, I’m going to make her hate me, make her wish that she had died rather than chosen to be my wife.
Why?
Because I’m a sick fuck that needs to break those that get this close to me in order to make sure they are all fucking in. I can’t have room for doubt. I won’t allow myself to be burned by anybody, not even her.
She’s getting closer, and I am so ready for this to be over and to start our new life together.
Her light blues sparkle despite the fact that she hates me. I know how good I look in a suit, and it shows on her face. We’re going to have to work on her poker face, make sure she keeps those slight twitches hidden from predators. She’s going to need to hone her skills, and I’m going to help her.
She stops in front of me, and I take a moment to just appreciate her.
Even her fucking cheekbones are perfect. Such a shame we couldn’t have met before now. Before my heart became stone and my tolerance for bullshit was at an all-time low.
I study her lips––her full, plump lips that are slightly parted and begging for me to devour her. I reach my hand up and brush my fingertips over her cheek. I don’t miss the blush that creeps up her neck and her eyes closing for a brief second as she allows herself a stolen moment to savour my touch.
I lower my voice and whisper so only she can hear. “You ready to do this?” It’s the one and only time that I will show her a softer side of me.
She holds my gaze and I see the indecision in her eyes. I know this isn’t the way she would have chosen to get married. I took that choice from her, and I don’t care. She’s mine, and today will seal the deal.
“Yes,” she whispers as she blinks away tears that threaten to fall.
