Free Taming Alaska (So Not Prince Charming Book 1) by Diana Downey Page A

thighs to its boiling point. “We could break in your beautiful ass.”
    My sorority sisters love anal sex. I’m not quite ready, not until my vagina shudders out an orgasm. “Not yet.”
    Using his teeth, Blake tears open a condom package and slips the latex on. I tug out his shirt from his cummerbund and slide my hand under to feel the silky curls on his chest and the abs sculpted from hours at the gym.
    He moans and mumbles my name. My tongue explores his full lower lip then trails up to his ear. He laughs, forcing my hand onto his erection as he presses it inside me.
    I could use a little more foreplay here.
    As the rhythm of him pulses against me, my nerves light on fire. Almost there, almost, almost. His cock jerks and releases, and once again, I’m left hanging. I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh God. This is completely unfair.
    “You didn’t come this time,” Blake says, disappointment shadowing his eyes.
    I have never come, not once. He doesn’t need to hear my problems, not on our perfect day. I’m good at faking it. My friends said it would happen after I got married to the man I love. They swore it would. A pout pulls down my lips.
    “I’m sorry, baby,” he says, kissing me. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. We need to join the reception before they miss us. I’ve already been given grief by my groomsmen for disappearing to be with you. I love you, Mrs. Waits.”
    The words temporarily soothe me, but I hang back, sexual frustration welling up inside me.
    Blake wipes a tear from my eye. “Aw, honey. Don’t be upset. You’ve always enjoyed it before.”
    Shall I tell him now? No. It’s our wedding day. “Tonight, sex on the plane?”
    He reaches for my hand. “I swear I’ll make it up to you. Come on. Let’s join our guests.”
    Blake stares at me with those sterling blue eyes, his lashes so thick they feather my face when he presses his cheek against mine.
    Tahiti, Seychelles, Fiji. Where is he taking me on our honeymoon? His family could afford to sweep us off to anywhere.
    “I’ll be there in a minute.” I don’t follow him into the ballroom where many of the guests await. Instead, I step outside through the French doors but only after slipping my panties on and checking my dress and makeup.
    The warm air caresses my skin. I take off my heels, lift the hem of my dress, and dangle my feet in the tepid pool water. Most everyone is inside in the air-conditioning. I’d love to put on my bikini and jump in. I close my eyes, imagining our honeymoon on a tropical beach and us practically naked, and the length of his erection rubbing against the satiny folds between my legs. I just have to think positively. It’ll happen.
    I inhale the intoxicating scent of roses that my father has nurtured in Mom’s gardens where a statue of Saint Christopher watches over the blooms. Dad says the patron saint will keep us safe.
    “What the fuck?” a deep resonant voice that can only belong to Shane O’Flannery says.
    I jump at the bark of his voice, ruining my moment of peace. I hate him. I hate Nikita. Why didn’t they just leave?
    Turning around, I spot Nikita Harper arguing with Shane at the other end of the pool. I don’t get her. She wanted a rich man, and Shane has loads of money now, not to mention his rockin’ hard body.
    Now if she could teach him table manners, clean him up a bit, and housebreak him, she may be able to salvage him.
    I wiggle my butt uncomfortably, recalling the saw-offed shotgun in his jeans and reminding me of my constant sexual frustration. His kiss still lingers on my tongue, so I hate him and the blonde he dates.
    Shane gets up, knocking over a deck chair and shaking a fist at her. Go ahead hit her. I want to watch. Ever since I dyed my hair blonde, Nikita has called me a cheap knockoff of her. Bitch.
    Not to mention the time she gave a pole dance at a sorority party to my old boyfriend and slept with him before we broke up while she was dating Shane. Did she honestly think