Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Stop delaying. Start walking. Right now.”
“I’m not finished,” I say sweetly. “I want a contract with the money stuff in writing. How much I get, how much Smoke gets, money for my employees, for renovations, for retirement plans—”
“Name the damn price and my lawyer will ensure it happens,” he growls at me, practically vibrating with impatient rage. “You are killing me right now.”
“And honestly? I’m having a great time.” I beam at him. “What about—”
He doesn’t let me finish. Before I can so much as whimper in shock, he grabs me, hoists me up into the air, throws me over his shoulder, and begins half walking, half jogging to the back garden.
“You are not just carrying me like a freaking bag to my own wedding,” I say, pounding on his back. I might as well spit into the wind for all it’s doing. “Carson! Put me down!”
“No,” he says. “I’m done talking.”
“What about babies? We haven’t discussed babies yet.”
He slows, stops, and lowers me down.
I brush myself off, trying to regain some dignity. I’m a little surprised the whole baby thing gets this much of his attention, but I’m also fairly pleased. In the distance, I spot two men standing underneath a decorative arch set up beside a small pond in the middle of a grassy patch. Bees and butterflies flit between the flowers. Shit, it’s really pretty, like a Disney wedding.
But I have a beast to tame first.
“What. About. Babies?” His jaw ticks, glaring death at me.
“Do you want them?”
“Yes.” He lets out a breath. “I do.”
My ovaries burst into flame. Fuck, the idea of him wanting children makes my entire body hum with a low, keening need.
“How many?” I manage to ask.
“Five.”
“Hell no, unless you’re giving birth to them. Sorry, try again.”
“I don’t have time for this.” He steps closer, but I shove my hands against his chest.
“Three kids. No more. And I get to name them.”
He practically groans. “You’re offering me children? Do you know what you’re doing to me?”
“Driving you insane.” I grin into his eyes. I don’t plan on ever getting pregnant by this asshole, but I can tell what the discussion is doing. He’s breathing hard, barely restraining himself, impatient and rage-filled, and I absolutely adore it.
I’ve never been wanted so badly before. It’s intoxicating.
“I want to take you here and now, my Ash.” He steps forward, grabbing my arm, yanking me roughly into him. If he cares what it looks like to the lawyer and the judge watching in the distance, he doesn’t stop. “I want to bend you over the fucking dirt and fuck you raw from behind right this instant. I want to fill you, love, fill you deep with my cum. I want to start making that first baby right fucking now. I want to breed you, my love, and I will, despite all the witnesses, if you can’t shut your pretty mouth and come sign the goddamn paperwork.”
I blink rapidly at him, heart racing up into my throat. Breed me? What the hell sort of sicko stuff is that? Except it’s extremely filthy and hot, which really makes me question my grip on reality. “You’d really have sex with me in the dirt? I knew you were an animal.”
He growls with rage. “Stop pushing me.” Then he starts dragging me again.
This time, I don’t resist. The fight drains away as we get closer to the waiting men. There’s a small table set up in front of them.
“Henson,” Carson barks, all but throwing me toward them. “Here she is. Show her where to sign.”
The judge clears his throat. He’s an older pale man with a bald head wearing golf shorts and a golf shirt, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Carson. Ah, everything is prepared, as you requested, but—”
“Yes, this is unusual, and yes, you will be well paid for your time.” Carson jabs a finger at the paperwork. “Sign it.”
The lawyer clears his throat. “Ms. Locke? If you would?” He holds up a pen.
I hesitate, looking at the judge, then at the lawyer. Neither of them betrays how insanely weird this moment is. Carson’s standing still, watching me like a starving lion prepared to pounce, and I don’t doubt that the only thing keeping him halfway civilized are these two men. Plus, the fact that he’s dying for me to sign.
“Thanks,” I murmur, taking the pen. The lawyer shows me where to initial. It’s a simple marriage certificate, nothing more.
“She needs paperwork,” Carson snaps. “On the fucking money.”
“I’ll draw something up.” The lawyer glances at me then quickly looks away. Like he’s afraid.
Carson shoves past me, jabs his name on the dotted line as if he’s finishing off a kill, and roars his approval.
Once the certificate is signed and witnessed by the judge, the group disperses with murmured congratulations, leaving me alone with my husband.