Page 127 of Consummation

“Tokeep?”

“Yes.”

I throw my arms around his neck. “I love you, too,” I shriek, tears of joy springing from my eyes. “I choose you, too, forever and ever and ever! Yes, yes, yes. I choose you, too, baby!Yes!”

And just like that, even before I can say, “Well, color me happy!”—(which I was totally gonna say, by the way, but how thefuckcould I possibly remember to say my line now?)—my beautiful gown is hiked up, my pretty lace panties are on the floor, and Josh’s donkey-dick is sliding in and out of me, filling me to the brim andmaking me scream. Oh, God, this is insanity. I’m not only screaming with pleasure, I’m crying and howling, too. I’m either thoroughly enraptured or possessed by a freaking demon, it’s not clear which.

After several minutes of fuckery that can only be described as “a mini-porno-version ofThe Exorcist,” Josh lays me down on my back on a table in the suite and fucks me with breathtaking fervor, whispering into my ear as he does about how much he loves me and how hot I am with my little baby bump and how good and wet and tight I always feel for him—and, within minutes, I’m convulsing with an orgasm that curls my effing toes and blurs my vision (and also makes my green head spin round and round on my shoulders).

When we’re both done, Josh hulks over me on the table for a long moment, catching his breath. “Holy fuck,” he says, his breathing ragged. “That wasn’t according to plan.”

I breathe deeply, trying to calm my racing heart. “Are we gonna be late now?” I gasp.

Josh straightens up, his eyebrows raised. “Late for what?”

“For the opera?”

Josh chuckles. “Oh, Kat.” He pulls me off the table and wraps me in his strong arms.

“What? That’s where Richard took Julia in the red dress—to the opera in San Francisco.”

“Yeah, I know—I’ve seen the movie,” Josh says, rolling his eyes. “But this ismyfantasy, remember?—and I’d rather poke needles in my eyes than go to the fucking opera.”

I giggle. “Oh, thank God. I was gonna be a good sport about it, of course, but I’d rather poke needles in my eyes than go to the fucking opera, too.”

Josh kisses my forehead. “Don’t you worry, PG. You’re withme, remember? The Playboy—and where I’m taking you today is gonna curl your toes and soak your panties a thousand times more than any stinkin’operaever could.” He winks. “I guarantee it.”

Thirty-Six

Kat

Our limo pulls up to a small airport displaying a sign at the entrance that says, “Boeing Field.”

“Are we flying to San Francisco?” I ask.

Josh grabs my hand. “No questions. Your only job today is toreact—not to try to figure things out.”

“Richard took Julia to San Francisco,” I say.

“We’re not going to the opera, and we’re not going to San Francisco,” Josh says. “No more questions.”

I survey the long line of small jets lined up on the tarmac. “But we’re flying somewhere?”

Josh puts his finger to his lips.

The limo winds its way through a gate and stops at a hangar about fifty yards from a small jet with its door opened wide and retractable staircase down.

“Are we going somewhere on that plane there?” I ask, pointing.

“God, you’re a terrible listener,” Josh says.

“Sorry. But are we going somewhere on a private plane? I’ve never been on a private plane. Oh my God.”

“Ssh.”

The limo driver opens our door and Josh gets out first.

“Don’t forget our bags in the trunk, please,” Josh instructs the driver. He bends down and peeks at me in the backseat. “You ready to make my hottest fantasy come true, Party Girl?”

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