Page 45 of Screwged for Christmas

“Crap,” I swear under my breath. “I can’t.” No use in lying. My nipples are hard and straining against the delicate silk of my bodice and I know the second he sees the fine outline of their excitement because he growls his appreciation.

Everything I ever felt for Aron floods back in and I’m back in his car on my eighteenth birthday and I’m just as flushed and needy to have his hands all over me now as I was then. I crave to have his mouth savoring my skin and to feel his hard cock pressing into me.

He takes my chin in hand and before I can protest his hot lips are crashing into mine. He demands I open and the second his tongue glides across mine I’m moaning into his mouth.

This is definitely not a dream. Surreal, yes. But I’m not dreaming Aron’s lips on mine nor am I dreaming about the way he’s holding me—tightly to him like I’m his.

And then all the pent-up desire I’ve hidden away in a tightly closed box in my heart tips over, taking over. Right there in front of everyone I wrap my arms around my kidnapper’s neck and lose myself in his hot kiss.

His possessive hands clench around my waist and his body heat envelops me with so much warmth the falling snow is no longer a bother. Not as long as I have his large body engulfing me protectively.

My brother tugs at my arm, saying something, but nothing and no one can break the magic of having Aron’s tongue in my mouth and his hard body pressed up against mine.

Flashes flare and news crews shout question after question.

None of them matter.

I melt into him like I was meant to be his.

How many times had my mother caught me watching him instead of doing homework? Countless times. I’d dreamed about wearing a dress like this and walking down the aisle to him.

The cold woman made it no secret I could do better than simple-minded jock. But he was more than just muscle. He was tender and had brains to go with the brawn.

Back then, having the fairytale love and marrying for love only happened in movies and books. My mother made it a point to drive in the fact fairytales didn't belong in the head of an heiress to a billion-dollar corporation.

Hundreds of people depended on my family to provide them jobs and that required level headed people at the helm. I’m no party-girl who can elope with the boy next door.

I break the kiss. “Aron, this can’t happen.”

“You’re thinking too much.” He pulls me to him and takes my face between his warm palms. In my peripheral, I can see the throng of guests spill from the church and with everyone looking Aron brushes his lips over mine. But I guess the small contact ignites a fervor between us because the passion in the way he swoops in and claims my mouth for another toe-curling round sends a flood of fire through me to heat me to my very soul.

Strong arms scoop me up and I’m tucked inside the limo with the world shut away from us in a blink.

I’m on Aron’s lap and the partition between us lowers a few inches.

“Driver. Don't stop until I tell you too,” Aron rumbles without taking his eyes off me.

“What are you doing? You can't kidnap the bride from her own wedding.”

“I already have, baby.”

CHAPTER 4

NOELLA

The limo pulls away from the curb just in time for me to spot my flustered mother exit the church with my not-so-soon-to-be-husband at her side who resembles a lost puppy and not the cute kind.

A strong hand wraps around my neck and pulls my attention away from the passing view.

“God, I’ve missed you.” Hard lips claim mine. For long moments we do nothing but drown ourselves in each other’s taste and the feel of holding each other. Time, the meaning of everything happening—all of it is shoved to the side while we enjoy the feel of one another.

Beneath my ass, his hard cock pulsates making my already wet pussy clench with need for the man I fell for long before I should have. I press down a little to let him know I feel the same way and he growls quietly. Behind me I hear the driver chuckle before he raises the partition again, sealing me in the back of the limo with the jock.

With one hand holding my mouth to his, his other slips beneath my dress to caress over my calf and past my knee. He sinks those strong fingers of his into the softness of my thigh pulling a deep groan from me in appreciation.

Possessive and claiming.

The thrill of his warm touch has hot liquid pooling between my legs and wetting my panties, and I can feel all my dripping juices slide down to wet my asshole.

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