Page 44 of The Auction (The Black Ledger Billionaires #4)

I kiss her—hard, filthy—so she can taste herself on my lips, and walk her backward until the back of her thighs hit the first pew. Her gaze drops to my mouth, and I see it—the hunger, the way her pupils blow wide when she knows what I’m about to do.

“I have an idea,” I murmur, my grin slow and deliberate.

I reach up, pulling the comb from her hair, letting the veil slip to the floor. It pools around her heels like a surrender flag. She’s standing there in only her bra, panties, and those fucking heels that make my blood run hot.

I make quick work of the bra, then hook my fingers into her panties and drag them down her legs, tossing them aside.

Lowering myself to the ground, I lean back until my head rests against the polished wood of the pew. I spread my knees, patting the space between them.

“Get that pussy up here and let me worship you.”

Her breath catches, but she does as she’s told—one knee on the pew beside my head, then the other. I wrap my hands around her thighs, pulling her down until she’s hovering right where I want her.

The first taste hits my tongue like a drug. I groan against her, holding her in place as I drag my mouth over her, slow at first, then deeper, hungrier.

She braces herself on the back of the pew, hips rocking, head tipped back as a cry tears from her throat. The sound bounces off the high ceiling, echoing through the empty church like a confession.

I tighten my grip and bury my face in her, determined to wring every moan from her until she forgets where we are, who we are, and why this should be a sin.

Every filthy word that falls from her lips makes my cock throb harder. Praise drips from her like sin, her voice breaking on moans that spike straight through my chest and settle low in my gut.

When she starts to come, she grinds against my mouth, rocking hard, yanking on my hair like she’s trying to fuse me to her. My name tears from her throat, loud, desperate—like I’m the god she’s been praying to.

I ride it out with her, sucking her clit until she trembles and shudders against me, tasting every ounce of her pleasure.

“I need you in me,” she pants, breathless, voice wrecked. “Now.”

I’m on my feet in a second, my chest heaving. “Don’t move.”

My fingers fly to my belt, yanking it open, pushing my pants down just enough to free my cock. I wrap a hand around it, nudging the head through her slick folds, coating myself in her wetness before plunging in—one deep, punishing thrust to the hilt.

She arches hard, her head tipping back, a cry tearing from her lips that sounds like angels singing. My own groan rumbles through the space, mixing with hers.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” I grit out, my hands gripping her hips. “You’re my home, Cass. Exactly where I’m meant to be—inside you. Loving you.”

I drive into her, my pace hard and relentless, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. I spread her ass cheeks apart, watching myself slide into her, over and over, and it’s so fucking beautiful I almost lose it right there.

“Look at you,” I rasp, thrusting deeper. “Look how perfect you take me.”

She cries out, her voice breaking as she comes again, clenching tight around me.

“Play with your beautiful tits,” I order, my voice dark, rough. “Pinch those pink nipples until they are red for me.”

She obeys, fingers toying with those perfect peaks, and I drop one hand to rub her clit, working her through it. She shatters beneath me, her cry ringing out like the sweetest blasphemy I’ve ever heard.

“Listen how beautiful my whore comes for me.”

But I’m not done with her. Not even close. I want to feel her squeeze my cock again—tight, desperate—while she comes apart in my arms.

I grip her hips and lift her clean off the pew, her legs wrapping around my waist in an instant. Her tongue is down my throat before I’ve even taken a step, her nails raking over my shoulders like she’s trying to mark me all over again.

I cross the space to the altar, pressing her back against it. She gasps when I lift her higher and slide back into her, slow at first, just to feel that perfect stretch again. Then I hook her legs over my arms, spreading her wide for me like an offering.

Her arms brace on the altar behind her, head tipped back, her hair spilling over her shoulders as I fuck into her. Her full breasts bounce with every snap of my hips against hers, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the hollow quiet of the church.

“Look at me, baby.” My voice is rough, commanding. “Let me see those green eyes when you choke my dick with your tight pussy.”

Her gaze locks on mine, wild and glassy, and it’s all I need. “Rub your clit. Come with me.”

She does, circling that spot with frantic fingers, her breaths coming in jagged bursts as I pound into her. We break together, my hips slamming into hers as I spill into her, her body milking me for every last drop.

But she doesn’t stop. Even after I’ve emptied inside her, she’s still rubbing her clit, pinching her nipples, her voice breaking on a cry. “I’m—oh, fuck—I’m about to come again?—”

I shift, setting her down just enough to move us, then sit on the altar steps with her straddling me. My hands grip her hips. “Ride me.”

There’s no hesitation, no build-up—she sinks down onto me in one smooth motion and starts riding me hard, taking exactly what she wants from me. The slap of her hips against mine is filthy, perfect.

“Lean back,” I order, my voice low. “Let me see how pretty you look taking my fat cock in your tight cunt.”

She braces her hands behind her on my thighs, leaning back so I can watch every stroke, every stretch. I reach up, pinching and tugging at her nipples, watching her chest rise and fall with ragged breaths.

“Fuck, baby… you’re gonna make me come again.”

The cum from earlier slides down her thighs, coating my lap, oozing down my balls and dripping to the floor beneath us. It’s so filthy I almost lose my mind.

“I’m—oh—” she gasps, voice breaking. “I’m coming again?—”

“So am I.”

I hook my arms under hers, locking my grip on her shoulders and pulling her down as I thrust up hard, meeting her stroke for stroke until we shatter together.

Her body clamps down around me, and I let go, groaning against her mouth as the world narrows to the heat, the squeeze, and the way she says my name like a prayer I’ll never stop answering.

We stay locked together, kissing, rubbing, moving slow. Every brush of skin makes us both shudder—too sensitive, too raw, too full of each other to stop.

“I love you,” she whispers against my mouth.

“I love you too, Cricket.” My voice is rough, but it’s the truth in its purest form. “I went fucking crazy when I thought you were gone. I haven’t rested a second since you left my sight in New York.”

Her hands slide up my neck, her eyes shining. “I’m here now.”

Eventually, our breathing evens out, and she glances toward the door with a smirk. “How exactly am I supposed to walk out of a church in just panties and heels?”

I chuckle against her neck, nodding past her shoulder. “I brought you some clothes.”

We finally separate, and I grab the torn wedding dress from the floor. I wipe myself off, then I stare between her legs, watching my cum run down her creamy thighs.

My smirk pure sin. “I want to push that cum back inside and fuck my baby into you.”

“Oh, my god.” She shakes her head at me but smiles as I lick up the column of her throat and wipe between her legs with the dress. “You just came twice.”

“And I could come again.”

She pulls out jeans and a soft T-shirt from the bag, slipping them on while I tuck myself back in and gather her discarded “bride” costume, dumping it in a bin near a side exit.

When she’s dressed, I pull her in, sliding my hands into the back pockets of her jeans as we sway together in the quiet, just looking at each other. No barriers. No chains. Just us.

“You ready to go home?” I ask.

She nods.

“I need to tell you about your mom.”

Her eyes widen instantly, and I hurry to get the words out. “She had a little fall, but I took care of her. Shanae’s with her—she’s okay. That’s why it took me a little longer to get to you, baby, but she’s fine.”

Her eyes water, and she breathes out a shaky, “Thank you… for taking care of her.”

I brush her hair out of her face and give her a soft smile. “She’s got some good news for you.”

Her chin trembles. “Is it… about her cancer?”

I grin now, teasing, because I know what she doesn’t. “You won’t tell me the secret ingredient… so I’m not telling you.”

“Sugar,” she blurts out. “It’s a pinch of sugar.”

I blink. “Seriously?!”

“Yes. Now tell me.” Her eyes are desperate, her hands curling into my shirt.

My throat gets tight before I can say it. “She beat it, baby. She’s in remission.”

Cassidy gasps, her mouth falling open as tears spill down her cheeks. I feel my own vision blur. “She’s going to be okay.”

She laughs and cries at the same time, cupping my face and kissing me before wrapping her arms tight around my neck. I hold her like I’ll never let go.

“Let’s go,” I murmur against her hair. “I want to take you home. I fucking hate London now.”

She laughs into my chest.

“After I take you to see your mom,” I add, pulling back just enough to look at her, “I’m hard launching you on my biker account. We’re going to record so many biker couple videos you’re going to be sick of me.”

Her smile is radiant. “No, I won’t.”

“You’ll forever be my backpack?”

“I’ll forever be your everything.”

I smirk at her and she already knows something shit-ass is coming her way. “You’re the best billion dollars I ever spent.”

I full on smile at her when she narrows her eyes.

“One billion, two hundred and thirty-three dollars and seventy-four cents… to be exact.” Her hand slides down and squeezes my cock. “But who’s counting?”

And as she walks away from me, that round ass swaying with each step I think:

Fuck. I’m going to marry this woman.