The Cornerstone by Kate Canterbary Read Free Book Online Page A

charge. His teeth closed around me, and the sound I made—God help me, it was shameful—was one part sob, one part screech, one part newborn kitten mewl, all whore.
    Will released my nipple with a gentle kiss and stared at me for a long beat. It gave me a moment to study his tattoos: a frog skeleton on his bicep, and an anchor crossed with a trident over his heart. They were tastefully done but I didn’t love tattoos; just not my style. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember being with an inked guy. But Will’s were nice. Different. Intriguing. Maybe even sexy.
    “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Will said, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I’m going to fuck you a couple more times, Shortcake. Teach you a few things about real orgasms. If that goes well, we’ll talk about rope.”
    “Don’t call me Shortcake,” I warned.
    He dropped his forehead to my belly and laughed. “But you’re good with the orgasms and rope?”
    I shrugged. There was no way in hell I’d let anyone tie me up. “Like I said, you talk a big game. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
    “In that case…” Will pounced on me, sucking my other nipple into his mouth while he hardened against my thigh.
    Then we heard a tremendous crack and the right side of the bed buckled beneath us. Will locked his arm around my waist as the bed teetered on a steep angle, and before we could move, the other side of the bed crumbled, too.
    “That means we’re doing it right,” he said, and I laughed against his chest.
    We broke the bed that night.
    And the side table.
    And the desk.
    And the complimentary bathrobe belts, which that fucker definitely used to tie me up.
    And that was all on top of trashing a bar.
    *
    I didn’t believe in avoiding issues. My philosophy leaned toward grabbing those issues by the balls and twisting until I made them my bitches. Sure, it sounded severe, but avoidance only left problems out to rot until they were too obnoxious to ignore anymore.
    But I was avoiding Will like it was my reason for being.
    It wasn’t about after-the-fact awkwardness; I didn’t believe in that either. No, it was about him pushing every one of my buttons and driving me to homicidal urges. He was rude and narrow-minded, and I didn’t intend to start another feminist debate on my best friend’s wedding day.
    And his cock turned me into a dumb, drooling orgasm factory.
    Nope, none of that had a spot at Matt and Lauren’s nuptials.
    Of course, I wasn’t able to avoid Will or his shenanigans when it came to the post-ceremony photographs. It was as if the photographer knew exactly what we did last night and she thought, Now this would be an awesome way to mess with people and capture it on film. She parked me and Will together in every group shot, and repeatedly instructed us to “squeeze a bit closer.”
    I subtly flipped the photographer off every time, and it seemed she, and everyone else, was oblivious to my discomfort.
    Sam was still drunk.
    Nick was asking Erin every conceivable question about Portugal.
    Riley was flirting with the photographer’s assistant.
    Andy and Patrick were having another one of those silent conversations I’d ignored for months. I thought they were glaring at each other. Turned out it was foreplay. Who knew?
    Matt and Lauren were busy being the happiest people in the world, and a tiny, tiny fraction of me wanted this to be mine. For a split second, I wanted all of this, but more than the beachside ceremony, pink wedding dress, and champagne everywhere, someone who saw only me.
    Someone who adored me.
    “Squeeze in!” the photographer called.
    Will’s hand curled around my hip, drawing me closer to his hard body, and annoyance quickly replaced my jealousy. “Paws to yourself, commando.”
    “Relax, buttercup.”
    That voice was right in my ear, and it sounded exactly the same as when he was too deep inside me for my brain to function. Like I meant something to him. Like he wanted to mean something to me.