Page 49 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad

She curves her back, clenches her butt.

"Three lashes, Flower," I drawl, "and you'd better not orgasm."

She tips up her chin. I snap the belt. The leather connects with her backside. Her entire body jerks. Her thighs spasm. I straighten, then lower the belt again. The crack of the strap against her skin leaves a pink welt across her butt. My cock lengthens.Fuck me.

This…thing inside of me, this need to see her ready and open and willing...for me… Why the hell have I never felt it with anyone else before? A hum winds down my spine and my groin hardens. I lower my arm and lay the last lash across her butt. She jolts, the apple rolls from her mouth, and a cry spills from her lips. All of my senses pop. I grab her hips, flip her around, then bury my mouth in her pussy. I drag my tongue up to her swollen clit and she screams out.

She tries to pull away. I grip the backs of her thighs, pull her close, until my face is jammed in between her folded legs. I thrust my tongue inside her melting channel. She grips my hair and tugs. The pain shivers down my spine, and my balls harden. I lick my tongue up her pussy lips again and again, bite down on her clit, and she arches her back off of the bed.

"Damian," she cries out, and fuck, my name from her lips… It’s sweeter than the screams of adoring crowds as I face them from on stage.

I tear my mouth from her pussy, rise up and over her, fit my mouth to hers, thrust my fingers knuckle-deep inside her channel, wrap my other palm around the back of her neck, my fingers resting on the pulse points on either side, and kiss her and fuck her with my fingers, in and out, in and out. Her core clenches around my fingers; her mouth opens further as I dance my tongue across hers. She strains against me, pushes her nipples into my chest, parts her legs wider as she tilts her hips, pushes her pelvis up, coaxes me to grind the heel of my palm into her cunt. A groan trembles up her throat. I tear my mouth from hers, peer into her eyes, pupils blown, the green now merely a circle that rings her dark irises.

"Come," I order, and she shatters. Her features twist, her lips part, and her muscles tauten as moisture floods from her center.

I pull my fingers out, ease them into her mouth. "Lick me off," I command.

She wraps her tongue around my digits, in the creases between them, across the junction where my fingers meet my palm. The slide of the wetness sinks into my blood, arrows straight to my cock. This woman... Nothing with her is predictable. Just when I think that I have her tamed, she springs a surprise that completely floors me. She holds my gaze as a tear slides from the corner of her eyes. I bend and lick it up.

She releases my fingers, tips up her chin. "Why did you do that?"

She’s come apart under me, and yet, there’s nothing timid or submissive about her…yet. "You don’t get to ask me the questions." I increase the pressure of my fingers around her neck. She swallows.

"Understand?" I lower my face to hers, until our lips almost touch, "Answer me."

"Yes," she whispers.

"Good." I release her, then slide back and off the bed. Straightening, I tug on my shirtsleeve.

"You’re already dressed in your formal clothes?" She frowns.

I glance at my watch. "Don't want to be late." I jerk my chin toward the closet at the far end of the room, "Get dressed, remember we have a wedding to attend?"

17

Julia

"Do you Amelie Elizabeth Abram take Weston George Kincaid to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Weston glances down at his bride, his features lit up with such adoration that my heart skitters. Jesus, all that love in the air. Is it possible for someone to feel so much love for his wife-to-be?

"I do." Amelie giggles.

Her simple, knee-length, off-the-shoulder, white dress should seem almost too casual, except she wears the glow that seems to often characterize brides.

Damian stands to attention on the opposite side of the gathering, not a single bone in his body relaxed.

The entire wedding has clearly been planned to be a small intimate affair, on the ranch owned by Saint and his cousin Tinkerbell. The weather is freezing, but the space is surrounded by freestanding outdoor heaters, which cast a circle of warmth around us.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Before Edward has completed his statement, Weston swoops down, drags Amelie up to her toes, lowers his head, and kisses her.

Applause breaks out from the assembled group. Sinclair pulls Summer into his side. She tips her head up and he presses his lips to her forehead. The puppy she holds in her arms whines. Summer holds the dog up to Sinclair who scratches the little fella about his ears.

The dog barks, Summer lowers him to the ground, and he bounds over to where a little girl, bends to play with him. Behind her, a tall man frowns down at the scene as if he’s not quite sure what to make of it. "That’s Liam," Isla whispers to me.

"Is he perpetually angry?" I frown.