Completion (14 page)

“Why not? I usually do, anyway.”

“Shut up, Mrs. Kane.”

Then he put on a good show, dipping her almost in half and kissing her soundly.

“Shall we look?” Tate asked, propping herself up.

“No,” Jameson moaned. “Sleep. Please, for the love of god, woman, let me sleep.”

“Did you really think I was going to let you sleep on our wedding night?” she asked, then bit him on the chest. He jerked away.

“One of these days, you really are going to give me a heart attack,” he warned her.

“Good thing I inherit everything,” she pointed out.

“Hey, Sanders gets half.”

“Yeah, but I'll just marry him after you're gone, so same diff.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“C'mon, let's go look,” her voice lowered to a hiss as she wiggled her body next to his.

“Why do you like to look at that shit?” Jameson asked.

“Because it's fun.”

“'
Fun
'? Tate, it nearly destroyed us on not one, but
two
occasions,” he reminded her. She shrugged.

“It's different now.”

“How so?”

“I'm your wife. I'm undestroyable now.”

Jameson couldn't argue with that.

“Fine. Get the computer.”

Tate scampered off of the bed, ran out of the room naked. Then she came back in and jumped on the mattress, holding the laptop. He took it from her and opened it, resting it on his stomach.

“Go here,” Tate instructed, tilting the machine towards her so she could type in the Google search bar.

“You owe me for this,” Jameson warned her, working his hand into the hair on the back of her head.

“What!? It's just an article, barely anything. How can I owe you for that?” she asked, ignoring him while she scrolled through web pages.

“Because I said so,” he replied, fisting his hand.

“
Pffft,
like that matters,” she snorted. He pulled sharply.

“Hey. Watch your fucking mouth.”

“
You
watch it.”

“I think having my last name has given you a new set of balls,” he told her.

“
Ooohhh,
then you must be extra excited about being married to me,” she joked.

Play time's over.

Jameson rolled over quickly, causing her to shriek and the computer to fly off the bed. He pinned her down to the mattress.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” he growled. She smiled up at him, but there wasn't anything sweet about it.

“I think you heard me,” she purred.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you always want to piss me off?” he snapped, driving his knee up between her legs, forcing them apart.

“Cause I think it's fun,” she breathed, then gasped when his hand gripped her thigh roughly, yanking her leg up so it was next to his hip.

“You're not gonna think it's fun in a minute,” he warned her, moving so he was kneeling between her legs.

“I'm sure I will.”

Jameson didn't care that they were both exhausted from having sex all night. Didn't care whether or not she was ready. Didn't care about anything but being inside her. He held onto his cock with one hand, pushing all the way inside her in one go, slamming his hips to hers.

“Fuck, Tate, you wake up wet for me,” he groaned. She managed a laugh in between her gasps.

“Only for you,” she breathed.

He pulled away from her and she moaned. He forced her onto her stomach, slapping her on the ass before pounding into her again.

Sex between them had always been different,
special
, because of the innate trust they had in each other. Jameson liked rough sex, liked to have heavy hands and heavier words. He wasn't practicing some “art form” or “lifestyle”, he just got off on calling a woman a cunt and grabbing her throat. Tatum wasn't looking for a “master” or a “sexual advisor”, she just got pleasure of out of being called a cunt and someone grabbing her throat.

For some people, sex was about leading a certain lifestyle, or almost a kind of performance art, and that was completely fine. Jameson believed people should do whatever worked for them, but it wasn't what he and Tate were doing. They were just two people screwing. Fuck safe words – they didn't need them, because it wasn't a game for them. Jameson would never hurt her, and Tate knew that. It was trust. It was sex.

It was making love.

“Oh my god, we should get married again if this is how you're going to act the next day,” Tate moaned. Jameson slapped her on the ass again.

“What the fuck does it take to shut you up?” he demanded, hiking her hips up higher and pumping as hard as he could. She groaned, pressing her hands flat against the headboard and pushing herself back into him.

“Not sure. Maybe you should keep trying,” she panted. He grabbed her hair and yanked, forcing her upwards. She moved her hands to grip the top of the headboard.

“I gave you a fucking wedding. I gave you a fucking ring.
I gave you my fucking name
. The least you can give me is what I want,” he snapped at her.

“I
always
give you what you want,” she moaned.

“
Always,
” he agreed, letting go of her hair and sliding his hand around to her jaw. She turned her head towards him, taking his index finger into her mouth. He groaned as she sucked on it, working her tongue around it like it was his dick.

“
Fuck,
Jameson,” she cried out as he moved his hand to her throat. Circled his fingers around it and squeezed.

“
Jameson, Jameson,
” he mocked her. “Now she says my name. Remember when you tried to call me Kane? Now that you share the name, you won't say it.”

“Because it sounds good on me,” she chuckled.

“Fuck you. I made this name, it doesn't mean anything on you, you stupid slut.”

“You may have made it, but I'll make it better.”

Jameson let go of her throat and put his hand in the middle of her back, forcing her down so her face was flat on the mattress. Then he reached around her, forcing his fingers in and around all of her warm heat.

“It's time for you to shut the fuck up and come.”

For once, Tate didn't have any smart ass comeback – she complied. Tate was a full-body orgasm-er, he could watch it take hold of almost every inch of her. Watch as a blush spread across her shoulder blades, just like he knew it would be spreading across her chest. She cried out, dragging her nails down the headboard, and he felt her pussy lock down on him. He growled, dragging his nails down her back, and her whole body shuddered.

When all her muscles had relaxed and she was panting and gasping for air, her head half buried under the pillows, Jameson pulled away. She mewled in protest, moving her face so she could look at him.

“What are you doing, why didn't you finish?” she breathed.

“Oh, don't worry Mrs. Kane, I plan on it.”

Another thing Jameson thought was beautiful about being in a completely open, loving,
trusting,
sexual relationship – he could come whenever,
wherever
, he wanted to on Tate.

It's the little things in life.

Tate rolled over and looked at Jameson. Smiled. He was asleep.

They had spent all day in bed.
All day.
Well, there was a trip to the shower, and another adventure on the balcony, so not technically all day in bed. But they did stay naked all day, which was pretty awesome.

She held her hand up, looking at her wedding ring in the moonlight. It was a gorgeous ring. Almost old fashioned looking, it had a large pear-shaped stone that was surrounded by lots of little diamonds, and it was all set on a thin, platinum band. But that didn't really matter to her – she had married him thinking that there wasn't any ring.

No, what she loved about the ring was what it symbolized. He had told her that he would never get her that ring, yet there it was; he had asked her to marry him. He had changed. He had given her everything she'd ever wanted.
More
.

Tate moved onto her side, ready to scratch Jameson awake, when something dinged behind her. She rolled over and saw that the laptop, which was still on the floor, had pinged to life, for whatever reason. The screen was ridiculously bright in the dark room. Jameson grumbled in his sleep and shifted onto his stomach. Trying to keep quiet, Tate slid sideways out of bed, then crawled on hands and knees to the computer.

She was just going to shut it, but the screen caught her attention. She'd totally forgotten about what she'd been trying to look up. She almost burst out laughing, had to cover her mouth with her hand. She glanced back at the bed before pulling the computer closer, scrolling down the screen.

There was a picture of her and Jameson at the top, walking out of a subway station in New York. He was holding her hand and his free hand was held up, blocking the camera flash. There were a couple pictures farther down, of them just two weeks ago, outside of the night club in New York. Tate wearing his jacket, giving the paparazzi the bird. That made her snicker even more. Then of course the oldie but goodie, Jameson and her standing in the rain, him holding an umbrella over her and kissing her.

But her new favorite picture was at the very bottom. It was the only picture she had of them on their wedding day. Jameson bending her into a dip, kissing her deeply. One arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand cupping her jaw. He was wearing one of his expensive, custom made suits. She was wearing a tube dress she bought at Forever21 for twenty bucks. So like them. So perfect.

Everything is so perfect.

Financier Jameson Kane Keeps Girlfriend in the Dark, Ruins In-Laws

Late last night, thirty-three year old financial mogul Jameson Kane married long-time girlfriend, twenty-eight year old Tatum O'Shea, in a secret beach side wedding in Hong Kong. Speculators have long wondered when – or even if – the nuptials would ever take place. No engagement was ever announced, and the wedding itself seemed to have been spur of the moment.

Mathias O'Shea, father of the bride, and his wife were also spotted in Hong Kong, having dinner with the couple, but it is assumed they weren't invited to the wedding. Shortly after their visit, O'Shea was forced out of his position on the board at J.P. Morgan, and shares in several of his companies began dropping. The O'Sheas are also being audited, and thus far the IRS has discovered several years worth of unpaid taxes and unclaimed income. As of yesterday, it is rumored that O'Shea is putting his family home on the market, to pay off some of their debts. It is unknown if the O'Sheas even know of their daughter's wedding.

Sources close to the event claim that it almost
didn't
happen, with Ms. O'Shea showing up to her own wedding an hour late. But the vows were exchanged, and there is officially a Mrs. Kane, something most people thought would never happen.

Women the world over are weeping as the man known affectionately as “Satan” is officially off the market.

Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Kane. And if you have a wedding stateside, please send an invitation our way.

I promise, there are deleted scenes and bonus material after this!

As always, to the ladies on the street team. Everything you do. All of it. Every single word, picture, post, everything.

I have a lot of trouble talking to certain people – blogs, reviewers, other authors. I get nervous, I psych myself out, blah blah blah. On Goodreads, I had noticed a reviewer had added my books to her TBR shelf. She is a top reviewer and followed by a lot of people. I noticed that she read similar books to the ones I read, and to the ones I wrote, and I loved her reviews that she had done for other people. But sending your book out to someone with that much attention and “power” as it were is nerve wracking. So I made myself a drink and sent a letter to SueBee-“Bring Me an Alpha!”. I expected a polite response, accepting the review request, but most likely no guarantee for when she could read it, as top ranked reviewers are inundated with requests. But it turned out she was excited to read my books, and was actually able to start them pretty quickly. And even better – she liked them! PHEW!

It also turns out we have similar tastes and interests, so a sort of friendship was born out of it. After she read Reparation, she mentioned that she wished there was more, that she hoped there would be an epilogue at some point. I mentioned that I had actually started one a long time ago, but it had gotten out of control, too big, so I didn't really plan on attaching it to the end of Reparation. I was just going to keep it as a story for myself. She recommended publishing it as a novella. And here we are! So many thanks, SueBee.

Again, thanks to everyone who read. Thanks to everyone who felt what Jameson was feeling, what he was putting out there. Thanks to everyone who supported Tate, with her ups and downs and all-over-the-places. Thanks to everyone who fell in love with Sanders – a.k.a. most of you. He is truly a phenomenon, and the outpouring of love and support for him has absolutely blown me away.

I am beyond sad this is over. But I am beyond excited for what's next.

Thank you.