Undeniably Married (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires Book 4)

If happiness were a color, it would be the color of the dress I’m about to remove from my princess. Light, fluffy, cotton candy, sunset pink. She said okay. That means she’s in this. It means she’s going to trust me and try with me. I don’t know what that entails for her. I don’t know if it’s simply sex or dating or a relationship. But for now, I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give me and win the rest.

I wanted to tell her that I’m hopelessly in love with her, but I can’t. Not yet. Even I have a limit for rejection and how far I’m willing to put myself on the line.

My tongue swirls with hers, going deeper and taking as much of her mouth as I can. She tastes like the champagne she’s been sipping all night and smells like heaven. I want to bury my nose in her neck to inhale more of her, and I do before I kiss my way down her jaw and repeat the motion just beneath it. Her pulse thrums against my lips, and I lick at it, making her gasp and her hands shoot up to my chest.

My jacket on her shoulders has to go, and she helps me out by twisting and shrugging out of it while I kiss and suck on her heated skin. I toss the coat at one of the chairs, and then I’m back on her, searching for the zipper of her dress. At any moment someone could walk in here needing to make a phone call or simply to escape the festivities in the ballroom only a few doors down.

With a smirk on my lips, I pull back and watch her face as I unzip her dress. “We could get caught in here, you know.”

She shivers and her eyes round as my thumb glides down her spine along with her zipper. Once it’s undone, the straps slip from her narrow shoulders to reveal the tops of her perfect breasts. My hands slide up her calves, taking the stiff material of her dress with me as I lift it up and up until it’s bunched around her waist.

Then I step back and take in the sight before me.

Sorel is breathing hard, causing more of the top of her dress to fall. If possible, I swear her tits are bigger, fuller. Her hair is mussed from having my hands in it, and her thighs are spread wide, showing me the paradise I’ve been denied for far too long. The tiny scrap of lace covering her pussy matches her dress, and I fucking love how sweet and girly Sorel is. Her nails are always painted pink in one shade or another, and her clothes when she’s not in scrubs always have some sort of girly embellishment.

And she likes sexy panties.

I lick my lips and drop to my knees, taking her inner thighs in my hands to spread her wider for me. She kicks off her shoes, and her feet hike up onto the table. I drag a finger along the wet seam, pushing in a little when I reach her clit.

She whimpers, and her teeth catch her lip.

“Can you be quiet for me, my princess, or do I have to gag you with these?” I run my fingers across the lace again, so she knows what I’m referring to.

“I…” She swallows audibly, visibly turned on by the thought of being gagged with her own panties. I won’t lie. The thought has me harder than I’ve ever been. “I don’t think I can be quiet.”

Fuck do I love this woman.

“Then we’ll have to fix that.” My fist balls up the crotch, and with my eyes on hers, I rip them in one fast motion. She gasps but also rocks forward into my knuckles, so turned on she can hardly hold herself up with her trembling hands. I quirk a finger and make her bend down to accept her panties. “Open for me.”

She does, though I catch the defiant flash in her eyes. Without acknowledging it, I wad up the lace and slip it between her parted lips.

“Your cunt tastes good, doesn’t it?”

She hums against it, and I can’t stop my smile. She never fails to surprise me.

“You need to stay quiet now or we’ll get caught. You don’t want that, do you?”

She gives me a long look and slowly shakes her head. She does want that. I know she does. She likes the idea of someone seeing her or catching her or hearing her. I figured that out in Vegas on the veranda. It’s why we’re playing this game. Only the reality is, we’re at an Abbot-Fritz gala, and half the people in that ballroom are her family, so we don’t actually want to get caught. Just play with the idea of it.

I grasp her hips, yank her to the edge of the table, and cover her pussy with my mouth. A loud noise vibrates from her, muffled slightly by the thong in her mouth. That’s because I’m not being gentle. I don’t know how to slow down. I’m ravenous for her. An animal let out of his cage.

She’s mine, but I barely have a grasp on her. She’s still that water flowing to her own wake and slipping through my fingers whenever she feels like it.

With that, I don’t hold back, even with the location we find ourselves in. She peers down at me, her heavy lids, wild hair, and overflow of cleavage spilling out of her dress making her look entirely too sexy. She moans through the lace, and her shallow breathing shoots straight to my cock.

I can’t keep my hands off her. I need her like a man needs air, and having her once now and then having to go back to the event will be torture. All night long I’ll be thinking about doing this to her again.

Her hand clutches my head, her other holding her up as I suck on her clit, pull it between my lips, and use my tongue to play with it. Her sounds get louder, and I can’t help my own grunts and groans. I fucking love eating her out. It’s one of the things I’ve jerked off to most over the last month. Probably because she comes so hard when I do this.

I dive back in, alternating my tongue and fingers, fucking her and licking her up and down, swirling my tongue and getting high on her scent and taste. It drives me over the edge, and I lose control, getting rougher than I intended.

Her back arches, and her hand in my hair grows tighter. The zap of pain only urges me on. Reaching up, I wrench her dress down, exposing her pretty tits. I palm one in my hand, pinching and rolling her nipple, and she cries out so loud, it almost shocks me.

I peer up to make sure I didn’t hurt her, but her eyes are in the back of her head as I work her tits while I hold her cunt against my face with my other hand.

“Ah! Mason,” she garbles, losing it. Have her tits always been this sensitive? Christ, I want to devour them to see if she can come just from me playing with them. She rolls up into me, aching for more of my lips and tongue and teeth while driving me deeper into her body. I can feel her orgasm start to take over, and when it hits, there’s no controlling her, gag or not. She’s fucking my face and holding me where she wants me and crying out into the dark conference room as I twist and pull on her hard nipples.

I continue to tongue fuck her until she’s all but spent and her body sags. Her hands try to rip me away from her sensitive clit, but I don’t give in that easily. I pull away with one last kiss and stand, extricating the wet lace from her mouth. She licks her lips and clears her throat, and I stare down at my girl as I undo the tight knot of my bowtie and let the ends hang loosely around my neck. She sits up, her hands going to the belt and zipper of my tux pants.

“Forget the shirt,” she tells me. “We don’t have time. I need you now.”

“What’s up with these?” I ask, cupping her tits and pressing them together.

She moans and shakes her head. “I don’t know, but I hope they stay like that because whatever you’re doing to them feels so fucking good. But please, Mason. I need it.”

Her impatience has me winded, and I dip down to capture her mouth in a soul-stealing kiss. I take over on my pants, lowering them enough to free my cock. This is going to have to be faster than I want it to be because she wasn’t wrong when she said people will notice we’re gone. Sliding her to the very edge of the table, I tilt her back and crouch a bit given the messy angle and short table.

I line myself up and push in.

We continue kissing—we never stopped—and this is one of my favorite parts about fucking Sorel. The gasps she makes every time I first enter her. It’s a combination of pleasure and pain. Of me being a bit too big for her, but she loves the stretch all the same. I grip her hip and press our bodies together, going in as deep as I can. The world spins behind my eyes, and my lungs empty at the warm, velvety feel of her.

Home. Heaven. Bliss. Mine.

My girl. My wife. My Sorel.

The words pound through me and urge my body into motion. Pulling almost all the way out, I immediately press back in to the hilt.

“Oh, hell, that’s deep,” she curses under her breath and angles herself further back to accommodate me. The action causes more of her dress to slip down, and I help it the rest of the way until it’s around her waist, wanting to see all of her tits when I fuck her.

Her breaths pant past her lips on a shaky exhale as I dip down to capture a nipple in my mouth. I’m deliriously happy right now. It’s not just being inside of her again. It’s her saying okay to me. I nearly laugh at the irony of that.

I’m trying to date my wife. I’m trying to make her fall in love with me.

She moans, and I pop away from her nipple to bite into her bottom lip. “Try to be quiet, princess.”

“It feels so good,” she whines.

“I know,” I whisper, because it does. “But be my good girl and try for me.”

“I thought you were my good boy.”

I smirk against her lips. “I’ll always be your good boy, but since you’re so rarely my good girl, I’m gonna need you to work on it so you don’t get caught getting fucked on a conference room table.” Thrust. “Is that what you want?” Thrust. “You want someone to walk in and see your pretty face all flushed as I make you come on my cock?” Thrust.

“Your wickedly dirty mouth isn’t helping me stay quiet,” she pants, and her eyes close as I fuck her harder.

I pump faster, setting a rhythm with quick, shallow fucks. I’m too tall for this angle, but I make it work. I can’t stop touching her everywhere I can, alternating watching my cock slide in and out of her tight heat and her face as she gets fucked. She’s urging me on, meeting me thrust for thrust, hiking her legs up and over my forearms as I pick up my pace, needing to bring us both over the edge. I kiss her and swallow her sounds and my own as I move faster and harder, the smacking of our bodies together making my balls draw up and my abs tighten.

I want to wrap my hand around her neck, but that’ll show for sure, and we still have dinner with her family after this.

“Dirty. Fucking. Slut.”

“Oh, god!” She’s barely hanging on, one arm wrapped around my neck and the other struggling to support her weight. “Mason,” she cries, getting closer, her thighs trembling against my forearms.

“You’re so tight, princess. I can’t…” I grit my teeth. “I can’t hold off much longer. Tell me you’re there too.”

All she can do is nod as her head falls back and her lips part. “Yes. God, please, right… there.”

I pound her exactly where she’s begging me to, and it sends her flying into a sweet abyss. She grips me tighter, and I adjust her, so I take on her weight and hold her tightly against me. Her pussy spasms, clenching my cock in the most beautifully painful way, and I explode into her, pistoning my hips and filling her with my cum.

For a moment all I can do is hold her and breathe because if I move, I might pass out. I’m having a headrush to beat all headrushes as it is.

I love you. In my daze, the words almost slip out. They’re right there on my tongue, jumping up and down like anxious little fuckers, trying to break free. Dammit, this needs to stop happening every time I have sex with her. She’s not ready, and I’ll only sound like an obsessed asshole. Which, in fairness, I am but still.

Slowly I pull out of her and pick up my jacket to remove the satin handkerchief so I can clean her up with it.

“Ah! Oh my god, stop.” She swats my hands away, and I chuckle.

“Sensitive or too intimate?”

“Both!”

I roll my eyes. “Here.” I hand her the cloth. “It’s all yours, but you should get used to being intimate with me. That’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“You’re not supposed to be like this. I’m unprepared.”

“What?” I laugh the word.

“Perfect.” She lands a kiss on my lips. “I’ll run to the restroom. Help me zip up first.”

She stands and turns around, and I place a kiss on her spine as I rezip her dress, feeling like a hero, like a million bucks, like I can fly.

When that’s done, I redo my bowtie, put back on my jacket, and run my fingers through my hair. We’re both flushed, and no doubt if anyone saw us together right now, what we were just doing would be obvious. I take her panties and my cum-soiled handkerchief and stuff them both in my pocket.

“Ready, Mrs. Fitz-Reyes?” I hold out my arm for her as she finishes with her hair, using her camera app to help her along. Smart girl. Only women think of these things.

She slips her phone back into her purse and takes my arm. “I’m ready, but you need to stop calling me that.”

I open the door and grin over at her. “Never. You’re my wife.” I kiss her cheek. “Get used to it. I don’t plan to change that now.”

She opens her mouth to lay into me when someone steps in front of us, blocking our clean escape. Oh shit. My heart starts to pound at the sight of the elderly woman with a perfect blonde bob, regal features, and fiery green eyes that miss nothing.

Sorel gasps, and her face flames. “Grandma. Hi.”