Page 4 of Father Knows Best (A Family Affair #1)
“Oh.” Geo’s eyes linger on the diamond setting eating up my hand. The hurt in his eyes is gone as he pulls me into his chest. “Congratulations, Avery.” After our embrace, he shakes Sutton’s hand. “Congratulations, son.”
We head inside and celebrate with Mercer Properties, and Sutton keeps his hand on my thigh beneath the table—and my dress—the entire evening.
“Do you want to take it off or leave it on?” he asks as his tie sails to the floor, joining his perfectly pressed white dress shirt, blue slacks, dress socks and shoes.
And soon? His underwear. Please Sutton take those off before you crawl into bed, I think to myself before dropping my eyes from one gorgeous thing to the other–my ring.
I slide it up over my knuckle, then down again.
“On. It fits perfectly. I don’t think I’ll ever take it off in my life. Like, ever,” I admit, extending my hand beneath the lamp on the bedside table, twisting and turning it beneath the light, coaxing out twinkles from the oversized stone.
The mattress dips as Sutton crawls over me, sliding his hands under the hem of my dress, his palms skating along the bare flesh of my thighs until they find my panties.
He makes that groaning noise as he kisses me, celebratory champagne still flavoring his lips.
Sutton tugs my panties off, and doesn’t even look at them before casting them to the floor, and reaching over me to click the light off.
His lips skate the harsh curve of my collarbone as he nudges my legs apart with his knee.
Traces of tonight’s celebration hang in the air–the champagne we enjoyed at the restaurant, the cigars that Geo and Sutton shared on the curb together after dinner, the whiskey Sutt and I sipped by the fire as soon as we got home, his cologne braided with the faint scent of his skin and sweat—all of it envelopes me, and emotions swarm.
“I love you, Sutt,” I tell him as he slips two strong fingers past my lips, sinking easily inside my eager body. “Ahh.” I can’t help the moan of appreciation that escapes me when he presses deep, curling them.
He kisses me everywhere as he warms me up with his fingers, bringing me to orgasm before he gets inside of me.
That’s the first step in our lovemaking routine.
Next, he’ll make me come on his cock–though he’d never put it in such terms. He will fuck me deep and slow, only letting the powerful, explosive strokes out when he’s close to orgasm.
Then, he’ll explode inside me, twitching and groaning as he empties himself, and I’ll squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on the heat he gives me, and how good it feels.
Then, we’ll exchange our adoration for each other, and after, we’ll brush our teeth and drink water, and go to sleep.
I always come multiple times when Sutton makes love to me, and I love nothing more than having his bare body over mine, feeling him throbbing, hungry to come inside me.
But our lovemaking is fairly routine, which is why I can almost guess his next words as he brings his mouth to my chest, tugging my dress down enough to expose my strapless bra.
He loves fucking me in my dress while he’s naked—I suppose it’s the kinkiest thing about Sutton Mercer.
“Are you ready for me, baby?” he asks while his lips roam the curved hem of my strapless bra.
I fill my hands with his hair, and look into his storming eyes.
Sutton drags my bra down, and with his eyes on me, sucks one stiff nipple into his mouth.
Another one of his incinerating moans has me aching, and I press one hand to my belly, desperate to feel him there, thick and throbbing.
I nod, feeling my bun break free against the pillow.
Sutton loves my messy hair after he makes love to me, and seeing the flare of adoration in his eyes when he strokes fingers through it along the pillow makes me love it, too.
“Yes,” I breathe, lifting my head just slightly to peer down between us.
His naked, hardened body is on top of mine, and despite the fact that the lights are off, my eyes have adjusted, and I can see everything.
Sutton’s belly, thickened only by muscle with a trail of trimmed hair traveling to his groin. He shoves my dress up around my waist, and kisses each of my exposed nipples again before gripping his erection in his veiny hand. He looks up for his second confirmation, per usual, and I nod my head.
I remember the first time I made love to Sutton Mercer. It took us an hour to work him inside of me. I was a virgin, and Sutton is big. No matter how many times he has me, he still always makes sure it feels okay before he gets going.
I find my vision again in the darkness, blinking down between us as he grips himself at the base.
There is nothing sexier than watching Sutton touch himself, but it’s rare that he lets me.
The only time I was on the receiving end of the erotic experience of watching him masturbate, it was an accident.
It was our first away trip, and we weren’t sleeping together yet.
I got up in the middle of the night to use the restroom and I walked in on him stroking himself over the sink.
I wanted nothing more than to become the sink—to fall to my knees in that hotel bathroom and let him pour his release down my throat while he lost himself in the pleasure I gave him.
Instead, I discovered that Sutton, despite his Adonis figure and gorgeous phallus, is private.
“That feel good, baby?” he asks, driving between my thighs, kissing the side of my throat as he drops his thumb to my clit.
He doesn't have to finger my clit when he makes love to me—I can probably orgasm just from feeling Sutton hard inside of me. But I don’t tell him not to, because the more of Sutton on me, touching me, tasting me and inside me— the better.
I nod my head. “You feel so good, Sutt.” My legs quiver all around him, and the muscle in my belly twitches as my eyes burn. He feels good, so good that I grow emotional with him inside me tonight, his ring on my finger, his last name about to be mine.
He kisses my lips, then the tip of my nose, picking up his pace.
His cock is slippery and hot, and every time his groin slaps mine, I think I’m about to come.
He doesn’t tell me to wait, and he doesn’t try to align our orgasms. Rather, he fucks me through it when I unravel beneath him within the first few pumps, and I cling to him, watching as he comes undone inside me mere minutes later.
I stroke the ends of his hair as he steadies his breathing, and after a few minutes where he softens and calms inside me, Sutton pulls out.
We clean up in the bathroom together, and while we’re over the sink, brushing our teeth, I reach across and snap the waist of his gray sleeping pants.
He got dressed in the dark bedroom before we went to the restroom. Per usual.
Sutton cocks an eyebrow in the mirror, minty foam in the corners of his mouth. “What?”
I look at my reflection in the mirror. Tied up in my white satin robe, the skin showing is flushed with arousal, even still.
My blonde hair hangs in a tangles that used to be a bun, and there’s a smudge of mascara beneath each eye.
I grab the tie at my waist, heart racing, and tug it open, exposing my naked body.
Sutton sizes me up before he bends at the waist, spitting and rinsing. Reaching, he takes me by the hips, intense gaze on mine as he reties my robe.
“You never want to sleep in the nude?” I ask, tone hampered by his reaction, trying to hide my disappointment that he covered me up.
I don’t hold a huge desire to be nude. I like my body, but more than that, I like Sutton’s body , and merely the idea of sleeping next to him naked turns me on—unreasonably so.
Sutt wrinkles his nose and takes my hands in his, waffling our fingers. “No, I do not want to sleep in the nude. If there was ever an intruder, an emergency, a fire—” he tips his head to the side, studying me for a moment. “Why?”
I stare into his soulful hazel eyes. His cum slides down the inside of my thigh, and I know if I told him, he’d tell me to use the restroom and clean up– again . Instead, I bring my legs together and savor the warm stickiness in private. “No reason.”
We get into bed, and I stare at my ring in the moonlight. I’m now engaged to the sweetest, kindest, sexiest, smartest, most successful man I know. He holds me until he falls asleep, and after he does, I reach between my legs, and place my hand in the mess left behind, and drift off.