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  Their Love

  Fiona Davenport

  Copyright © 2019 by Fiona Davenport

  Cover designed by Elle Christensen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Their Love

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  The Yeah, Baby Series

  About the Author

  Their Love

  Billionaire Jamison Kennedy fell in love at first sight with his sweet, country girl. They were from different worlds, but he knew she was meant for him. He wasted no time in sweeping Hazel off her feet and tying the knot.

  Hazel was desperately in love with her husband, but she didn’t fit in with the glitz and glamor of New York high society. However, she was determined to be the perfect wife, even if it meant losing herself in the process.

  Jamison knew something was wrong and he’d do anything to get back to the people they were when they first met. Because nothing was as important as their love.

  Prologue

  Jamison

  “One more,” I growled as I shoved my tongue into my wife’s tight channel. She cried out, and I licked my way up to her clit, sucking it hard as I filled her with my fingers. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d taken her over the two weeks since we’d been married, but each time, she was every bit as tight as when I popped her cherry on our wedding night. “Give me one more, peaches.” I’d already wrung one orgasm out of her, but I was determined to get another. I wanted Hazel’s cervix to be soft and her womb primed to take my seed when I finally sank my cock deep inside her.

  In the next second, Hazel’s hands dove into my hair and held on tight as she shouted my name while wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. I kept eating until the pulsing in her pussy began to dissipate, then I placed a soft kiss on her mound. I would never get enough of her taste; like peaches and cream.

  She was panting, the movement bouncing her perky C-cups and making my mouth water to nibble on their hard, little tips. My hands dragged along her body as I moved up and over her. I was a few inches over six feet tall. At just barely five feet, she was tiny compared to me. My muscular body dwarfed her delicate one, and it made me feel even more protective, adding fuel to my already out of control obsession with my wife.

  But, despite her slight frame, my girl was strong and could take everything I gave her in bed. I’d been afraid of hurting her at first, but on our wedding night, I’d lost myself to my mating instincts and ended up fucking her like a caveman. Afterwards, I’d mentally beat the shit out of myself for losing control and more than likely, scaring the crap out of my sweet, young wife. I’d done my best to hide the possessive, jealous beast raging inside me since we’d met. But when I finally claimed her, he refused to be contained any longer.

  To my surprise, Hazel had clutched my ass, bucked her hips while kissing my neck, and asked, “Can we do that again?” Ever since then, she’d taken everything I had to give her; quickly losing her inhibitions and becoming a fucking tigress in bed.

  Hazel gazed up at me with deep green eyes that were clouded with passion. “More,” she whispered as she circled her legs around my waist.

  “You want my cock, peaches?” I purred as I rubbed my thick shaft between her soaking wet folds.

  “Yesss,” she hissed as her muscles tightened.

  I positioned my fat, swollen head at her entrance and circled my hips twice before I slammed my bare cock into her unprotected pussy.

  We had two and a half more months before our honeymoon would be over, and I was determined to breed my little wife before reality intruded. Now that we were married, she was bound to discover just how deep my obsession with her went. I was fucking crazy over her, and I wasn’t ever letting her go. She was finally wearing my ring, but I wanted her tied to me in every way possible.

  Chapter One

  Jamison

  Hazel looked like a fucking goddess in a gold, strapless gown, with her hair curled on top of her head, and her features slightly enhanced by her subtle makeup. And it was pissing me the fuck off. If another asshole leered at her tits, I was going to ruin everything when I killed him.

  My sweet girl was awed by the life we led, and I didn’t want to burst Cinderella’s bubble. She’d grown up in a small town in upstate New York. Her family owned an orchard, and I’d met her on my way to a meeting in Ithaca. I’d stopped by a roadside stand to buy some fruit, and she’d floated over to help me. She’d lifted her cherub face and smiled at me with her rosebud mouth, her green eyes twinkling, and the world had fallen away. I’d felt as though the ground had disappeared beneath my feet.

  Like a fucking idiot, I’d simply stood there and stared at her. Her plump cheeks had turned pink, and she glanced down as she brushed long strands of coppery hair behind her shoulder.

  She was young. Too young for me. She was wearing a pink headband with a checkered bow for fuck’s sake.

  “How old are you?” I asked. Then I silently berated myself, not only because those were the first damn words I’d ever spoken to her, but because my instantaneous, raging attraction had caused me to be rock hard and uncomfortable. Which meant the words came out a little too harsh.

  She’d blushed harder and dug the toe of her pink canvas tennis shoe into the dirt. “Um, eighteen,” she mumbled. “My birthday was yesterday.”

  I’d managed to stifle my huge sigh of relief. And yet…fucking eighteen? Damn, that made me seventeen years older than her. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Happy birthday, peaches,” I’d said in a much smoother tone. I wanted to reach out and run my finger over the pink dusting her cheeks and nose. I was betting that her skin was softer than silk.

  “Peaches?” Her blush deepened, and her smile widened, revealing two deep dimples. I was so fucked.

  “I don’t know your name, but you look like a peaches to me,” I teased.

  She’d giggled and flashed those lethal dimples my way again. “Hazel.”

  Beautiful.

  When she beamed and thanked me, I realized I’d said it out loud.

  “You’re very handsome,” she whispered shyly, making me want to preen like a damn peacock. I wasn’t ignorant of my effect on women, I just hadn’t cared before now. I wore my shortish, dark hair gelled into a style that was similar to a fauxhawk but acceptable in the business world. My green eyes were dark and fringed with thick, black lashes. My face was lean with a strong jaw and nose, covered with a neatly trimmed beard. According to some ridiculous articles and “sexiest whatever” lists, even the small scar on the top of my right cheekbone was appealing. Daily visits to the gym kept me cut and strong. I was lean but ripped as fuck. As her green eyes swept over me, I felt as though my skin had been singed by fire in every spot she looked.

  I was about to reply when an older man who looked to be only a few years older than me had stepped behind her and watched me warily. From his features, it was easy to tell that he was her father. “Can I help you?” he’d asked gruffly.

  My eyes had drifted down to my peaches again but lifted to her father’s when he cleared his throat. I swallowed hard and forced myself to step away. I bought a few peaches—no other fruit appealed to me anymore—before dragging my ass back to my Maserati and lowering my big frame into the driver’s seat.

  I started the car and put it in drive, m
y eyes on her the whole time. My windows were tinted, but it seemed almost as though she could feel my gaze because she kept looking my way since her eyes met mine every time. It took everything in me to finally drive away. With every mile, it became clearer that I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life.

  By the time I reached my destination, I’d realized what a huge fucking mistake I’d made. I called my secretary and had her make my apologies to my associates as I squealed tires and drove like a bat out of hell back to the fruit stand.

  It took me a couple of days to convince her father to let me spend some time with her. If he’d pushed back even for one more day, I would have simply taken her. But it was clear that my girl loved her family, and I didn’t want to cause a rift. Still, for those two days, I was never far from her. I couldn’t stand it. I’d even found a back road onto their land and had spent a good portion of every night lurking near her window. Watching her sleep, knowing she was safe and peaceful, was the only thing that gave me any comfort.

  When I was finally allowed to take her on a date, I’d pulled out all the stops, flying her back to NYC in a helicopter. I took her shopping for a dress, then we attended the ballet—since she had ballet slippers hanging in her room and ballerinas on her bedspread—and ended the night with dinner at The Rainbow Room. Throughout the night, she’d had a look of wonder on her sweet face as she chattered constantly. It was adorable and made me confident that my plan was working. I wanted to impress her, to sweep her off her feet and make her fall in love with me. If this was the life she wanted, I would give it to her. She could have anything she wanted, and I made sure she knew it. I also gave her light, teasing touches all night to get her used to me. From the shivers some of them elicited, I knew she felt the burn between us.

  Her sweet innocence and genuine reactions had been refreshing and a huge turn on. But the more I’d gotten to know her, I found myself intrigued by her quick wit and intelligence. She was my little country bumpkin, and I hoped she’d never change.

  When we returned to her town, I’d driven towards her home but pulled over a few miles from the house. Unable to stand it even another minute, I’d unbuckled her belt and dragged her onto my lap. A simple touch of our lips was all it took to have my body engulfed in flames. I wanted more—so much more—I wanted it all. But, not like that. I decided right then that our first time would be on our wedding night.

  The next day, I had a talk with her parents. I told them I wanted their blessing but that either way, I was going to marry Hazel. I promised to take care of her, to love her, to give her everything her heart desired. Apparently, my passionate plea convinced them. Then her mother told me that our story wasn‘t so different from their own.

  They called my girl into the room, and I got down on one knee to propose. Her whole face lit up, and she threw herself into my arms with a shout of “Jamison! Yes! Yes!” I laughed and stood, spinning her around.

  I gave her a chaste kiss, mindful of the parental eyes watching us. Then I took the round, five-carat, peach sapphire on a rose gold band covered in tiny diamonds and slipped it on her delicate finger. Hazel had gasped, her face awash with shock. After a moment, her expression turned troubled.

  “You don’t like it?” I asked.

  “It’s lovely,” she responded, her tone genuine. But it didn’t erase the look on her face.

  “You don’t have to keep it, Hazel,” I assured her. “You can have whatever you want. This just reminded me of you, peaches.”

  Hazel’s expression had brightened, and she sent a soft look my way before shrugging sheepishly. “It’s so big and expensive. What if I lose it?”

  I couldn’t help it; I threw my head back and laughed so hard that a tear leaked from the side of one eye. When I finally got ahold of myself, Hazel was watching me with an annoyed glint in her eye and her hands on her hips.

  “I’m sorry, peaches. I guess we haven’t really talked about it, but you are officially a billionaire, sweetheart. If you lose it, we’ll just buy you another one.”

  Her jaw had dropped, and it was so adorable I had to sweep her up into my arms and kiss her until her father cleared his throat and tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Save it for the wedding night, dear,” her mother wisecracked.

  Since that was the plan, I knew I needed to get my ass in gear and make the wedding happen. Fast. I called in every favor and used every ounce of my power to threaten, cajole, or blackmail people so I could give Hazel a Cinderella wedding in one month.

  Unfortunately, some of the preparations needed to be handled in person, so I’d hired her a bodyguard immediately. However, even then, it had still been nearly impossible to go back to the city without her. I had a security system installed and had considered adding a camera to her bedroom, but I didn’t want to risk her finding it and send her running before I got my wedding band on her finger.

  I threw myself into the merger of my business and planning the most spectacular wedding since whichever royal got married recently and topped whichever one came before. The true miracle was securing St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral for the ceremony. Luckily, I’d been a good Catholic boy growing up. And though I hadn’t been back to church other than Christmas and Easter for years, I’d maintained a relationship with the priests. Plus, the marriage coordinator was my cousin. It also didn’t hurt that I’d been a big donor already, and I promised to basically finance an entire major renovation in order to fast-track our wedding.

  The reception had been at The Plaza, with the best of everything, and a guest list that rivaled the biggest A-list movie stars. I made sure my Hazel was the belle of the fucking ball.

  I’d grown up in Queens, and all the glitz and glam wasn’t really my scene, despite the billions in my bank account. But Hazel was worth it. She was worth everything.

  Which was why I found myself at another stuffy charity ball, suffering through the sleazeballs that hid their depravity behind their money ogling my wife.

  From the moment we’d left our Upper West Side townhouse, all I wanted to do was grab Hazel and run back inside and never leave. I hated sharing her, and after the news we’d received two days ago, I was feeling even more protective. You’d think knocking my wife up would ease the possessive bastard inside me. I mean, besides a ring, what else screamed “taken” better than a pregnant belly? However, it had done the opposite. I was more obsessed with my wife than ever, and every day it was a struggle to rein myself in.

  “Jamie?” Hazel’s soft, sweet voice floated up to my ears, making my cock swell. Generally, I fucking hated that nickname, but I loved the way she said it. Then again, I loved the way Hazel said or did anything.

  “What do you need, peaches?” I asked with a soft kiss on her temple. She sighed and leaned into me, and I tightened my arm around her waist. My eyes swept over her face, and I frowned at how pale she looked. Her green eyes had weary lines around them, and the sparkle that had drawn me to her from the beginning had dulled.

  “I’m a little tired, would you mind if we went home?”

  I was all too eager to comply with her request. “Of course, sweetheart.” I began to guide her towards the coat check, but we were stopped at least three times along the way. They were all clients and despite my desire to bolt, I had to give them each a few minutes. I’d recently merged my business with K-Corp, another investment firm owned by brothers who happened to be two of my best friends. We all wanted to take a step back to spend more time with our families. Merging our companies, along with some smart hires, meant none of us were spending our entire lives in the office. Still, while it was an excellent business decision, it was a big one and some of my clients were still a little skittish.

  Hazel greeted each of them with patience and a gracious smile. A frown tugged at my lips as I listened to her speak with them. Over the last month since we’d returned from our three-month honeymoon, Hazel’s speech had begun to lose the country lilt and her tone was calm and refined, rather than high pitched and brimming w
ith excitement. Less and less, I heard her cute farm girl phrases and the charming way she said, “y’all.”

  It confused me because I thought this was the life she wanted. To leave her small-town world behind and live in the fast lane. But it often felt like I was losing her. On more than one occasion, I’d been tempted to sweep her up and run away from the city and this high-society life. But, fear stopped me every time.

  It took a lot of courage to accomplish everything I’d set out to do in my life. I was known for being fearless and going after the things I wanted. Just like with Hazel. I wouldn’t have left that small little town until she was mine.

  So, it was unsettling to find myself paralyzed by a single thought. What if Hazel wouldn’t love me if I didn’t come with this life? If it was just me and my overbearing, jealous, possessive ways.

  Chapter Two

  Jamison

  When we arrived home, I hung up our coats in the front hall closet while Hazel headed for the kitchen. I followed her through the arched doorway on my right and caught up to her just as she was standing on her tip-toes to reach the second shelf of one of the cabinets.

  I walked up behind her and grasped her waist, lifting her off her feet and setting her on the counter. Then I easily plucked up the mug she’d been attempting to retrieve. In silence, I went about the task of making her some herbal tea. When it was finished, I filled her cup and waited for her to take a sip and hum in approval.

  Son of a bitch. It was the same sound she made when her lips were wrapped around my dick. “Hold that carefully, peaches,” I instructed before lifting her into my arms like a bride and carrying her up the first flight of stairs to our master suite.