The Marriage Clause (Dirty Sexy Rich 1)

A slow smile spread across his lips before he dipped to taste me again.

When he released me, we were both breathing hard. It didn’t matter that we were standing on a busy city sidewalk, parting people like Moses and the Red Sea as they went around us. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, it was only him and me.

I wiped at my mouth as reality returned. Luca would use every second of the week to try to convince me to marry him. Perhaps in addition to his need to please his father, it was a game and his pride was on the line. It couldn’t possibly be because he truly did love me.

I wouldn’t entertain something so foolish.

But I could do this kicking and screaming, fighting the entire way, or I could concede for the sake of a smoother ride to the end. Could I beat Luca at his own game? Could I shut off my heart and play the part of his fiancée, knowing full well I intended to walk away when it was all done?

Honest answer? I wasn’t sure. I wanted to be strong enough to follow through with my plan, but there was a part of me that still yearned for what I’d thought I was getting when I was sixteen.

God, I’d loved him so hard.

They always said first love was the most powerful. Win or lose, the experience left a mark. I would bear Luca’s mark on my soul until I died.

Dramatic? Perhaps, but there was no other way to explain the hold he had on me.

Time to forget all that. Time to play to win.

“Okay, Luca,” I finally said, my tongue darting to taste where his lips had been. “I will stop fighting you on this and play the part of your fiancée until our deal is up. Where to next, honey?”

He slipped his hand into mine, answering, “On to Alcatraz, then shopping. I have a few places in mind, and I think you’re going to love them.”

I forced a smile and allowed him to pull me along, keeping step with his stride.

From the outside looking in, we might’ve looked like lovebirds out on the town, but I knew the truth.

At least... I think I do.

CHAPTER TEN

Luca

I DIDN’T TRUST Katherine to accept our deal without argument for the rest of the week. My fiancée wasn’t malleable or meek, and knowing she would tell me to shove it was invigorating.

I know—stupid—but she captivated me in a way I couldn’t explain, not to my father, not to myself. All I knew was I would do anything to keep her.

If that meant lying, deceiving, strong-arming... I was beneath nothing, but if she wanted to play games with the master, I’d certainly indulge her. She thought that by playing the part of the sweet fiancée, she’d play me, then walk.

I would never let her walk.

But if she expected me to play fair, she was naive.

My cock hardened at the thought of tonight.

The moment Katherine walked over the threshold of Malvagio, the sensory overload would start.

Sights, smells, sounds—the club was a smorgasbord of consensual debauchery.

Katherine was a powder keg of repressed need. All it would take was a spark and she’d ignite. And I fully planned to be the one holding the match.

Maybe it was playing dirty to push all her buttons at once, but I didn’t have the luxury of slowly wooing her. Seduction was my best chance.

Once on the ferry to Alcatraz Island, the wind whipping her hair across her face, I pulled her into my arms to shield her from the bracing cold. She shivered and settled against me, choosing warmth over pride. Her scent teased my senses; her soft behind pressed against my groin. I sprang an erection nearly immediately, and I didn’t try to hide it. If anything, I pulled her closer so that she knew exactly how she affected me.

Her sharp inhale told me she knew.

I leaned down to whisper against the shell of her ear, “You have the best ass. The memory of bending you over the bathroom counter...sliding my hard cock into you...it still turns me on to this day.”

Katherine swallowed but recovered enough to quip, “Hold on to that... No repeats are scheduled on this trip.”

I laughed, knowing she was struggling. Her shallow breath and the restless wiggle of her backside against my cock was evidence enough that she was lying through her teeth, but I enjoyed the chase.

Pressing, I said, “That’s a shame. You have the sweetest O face. The way your toes curl and your mouth goes slack, your eyes squeeze shut as your breath is held captive in your lungs...it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. When I jerk off...it’s your face I picture.”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” she shot back, her tone breathless.

“I haven’t kissed my mother since I was ten,” I told her, allowing my mouth to drift down the column of her neck. “But I remember the way you taste. The sweet tang of your pussy haunts my dreams. The way your belly trembles and your thighs quake when you reach your climax...the way you gush, flooding my mouth when you come...your taste is an addiction I can’t quite quit.”

“Stop,” she demanded, but the word was weak at best. “No sex.”

“Who’s having sex?” I questioned with false innocence. “We’re just talking.”

“But you’re talking about sex.”

“Ah, well, you never said we couldn’t talk about sex,” I reminded her, neatly snaring my little spitfire with her own words. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the scent of you on my cock...teasing me throughout the day, reminding me of how perfectly I fit inside you...the way you moan, clutching the bedsheets as you come hard...yeah, definitely my favorite memory.”

“Luca...”

I ignored her plea. The ferry was moderately full, the nasty weather having put off many of the tourists hoping to see the infamous prison island, but there were enough people to make touching impossible and I wanted to slip my hands down the front of her pants to see if her core was as wet as I believed it would be.

The inability to do as I pleased only heightened the anticipation for tonight. I savored my own frustration as I continued to stoke hers.

“Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

Her quick no was telling.

I sighed, tightening my hold around her waist, my thumb lightly stroking her belly over her sweater. “Want to know what I think? I think when you close your eyes at night, your hand drifting down to your dripping pussy, you finger yourself with me in mind. I think you come with my name on your lips.”

“You have quite the imagination,” she said, glancing around the ferry to see if anyone was listening. “I don’t think of you at all.”

“No?”

“Nope.” She added with a sniff, “I have slept with other men, you know.”

I stiffened. “Careful.” Unlike my family, I hadn’t expected Katherine to remain celibate until I married her, but I didn’t want her past lovers rubbed in my face.

But I realized my mistake too late.

“Oh, yes, when I really want to get off, I think of—”

I turned her roughly to face me. “You like to live dangerously,” I said, my tone low, daring her to continue. The more I thought of someone else with Katherine, the more I wanted to break something. “Don’t let your mouth overload your pretty ass.”

Her angelic smile was anything but. “Jealous?”

“Territorial.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Jealousy is an emotion reserved for those who want but can’t have. Territorial is the need to protect what is already yours.” Katherine held my stare, her chin lifting in a subtle motion. Defiance flitted through that expressive face, but she remained silent. “Make no mistake, Katherine, you are mine,” I murmured, brushing my lips across hers. “Always.”

The tiny shiver in her frame was the only confirmation I needed. She talked a big game, but Katherine was a quivering ball of need, her body reacting to mine with delicious readiness, no matte

r how vehemently she protested.

“Alcatraz Island,” the ferry operator called out, and Katherine wasted no time in scuttling down the ramp, putting distance between us.