Page 480 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Mira

He paints his orgasm on my face, my mouth, my tits.

He comes and comes, and there’s so much cum, it drips down my chin and clings to my nipples.

He holds me in place with his grip on the back of my head, but even if he didn’t, I wouldn’t move.

This… He’s given me power over him. He’s used my body, and it brought him so much pleasure, I know for a fact, he wouldn’t have been this open and he wouldn’t have let himself be this vulnerable with anyone else.

So why can’t he tell me about the incident?

Why can’t he share what happened to him?

Why is he holding himself back? And why has he never taken off his clothes in front of me?

He squeezes out the last of his cum, then reaches down and massages it into my cheeks, across my mouth, down my throat, and around my breasts. His cock twitches, and by the time he raises his gaze to mine, he’s hard again.

"You’re gorgeous," he murmurs, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "You deserve better."

"I want you."

"I’ll never be able to give you what you want."

"I don’t believe that."

"Believe it." He tucks himself inside his briefs and zips himself up, then pulls me to my feet. He hauls me to him, fits his mouth over mine and kisses me. There’s a desperation to how his lips close over mine, a yearning to how his tongue tangles with mine. An anguish to how he holds me close, a sea of agony to how his thighs push into mine. When I place my hand over his heart, it’s galloping with all the emotions he’d never allow himself to reveal.

And when he releases me and peers into my eyes, I glimpse the regret in them before he shuts me out.

"Don’t do that, don’t hide what you’re thinking. Don’t conceal whatever thoughts are going through your mind. Don’t brush aside the sadness, the fears, whatever it is that feels too big for you to face alone. We’ll do it together."

He doesn’t respond.

"Edward…" I cup his cheek. "Talk to me."

He looks at me through that mask of the hot priest again. "I think we need to take a trip."

"A trip?" That’s the last thing I expected him to say.

"I promised Arthur I’d take you on a honeymoon."

"A honeymoon?"

He rubs his thumb across my mouth. "So you can earn your orgasms."

I glance at the flakes of snow that float down, only to melt when they touch the car.

Outside, the Christmas lights on Regent Street light up the city.

The display windows of the shops show off their festive decorations.

There are crowds of people on the sidewalk.

Families, children, everyone is out shopping.

I can make out the shop windows of Hamleys—the biggest toy store in London—and the throngs of kids with their parents milling around outside.

One day, when I have kids, I’ll be able to buy gifts for them, put up a Christmas tree at home, and surprise them on Christmas morning with their presents.

Of course, I do need to get pregnant first. I cross my fingers.

Hopefully, my time will come before too long.

It has to. Meanwhile, I’ll have to make do with the gift I bought for Eddie, which I have hidden in my handbag.

We left the office an hour ago. He hasn’t told me where we’re going. When I asked, he said it was a surprise. Before we left, he led me to the ensuite and told me to shower. When I emerged with a towel knotted between my breasts, he gestured to the walk-in closet.

I opted for a skirt and a full-sleeved blouse, teaming it with a wool-lined leather jacket. Combined with a scarf, gloves and a hat, I was ready to go. He looked at me with approval when I strode out, then wrapped up the call he was on.

When I asked about clothes for the trip, he said it was all taken care of. Then, he ushered me to his Jaguar, slid into the driver’s seat, and we were off.

Now, I reach over and fiddle with the dial of the radio until I find a favorite radio station. The notes of WHAM!’s "Last Christmas," as interpreted by Ariana Grande, fill the car.

I begin to hum along to it.

"You really do like Christmas?" He shoots me a sideways glance.

"You really don’t?"

One side of his lips quirk. Hooray! That’s a win.

"When you smile, your entire face changes. You look younger and innocent."

His eyebrows draw down. "But I’m not."

I glance away. Why did I have to go put my foot in my mouth?

The music changes to Mariah Carey’s, "All I Want for Christmas."

He winces.

When I reach over and shut off the music, he doesn’t protest. We drive in silence, and once we cross the city limits, he relaxes a little.

"You must have celebrated Christmas when you were a priest?”

He hesitates, and I’m sure he’s going to stay silent, but then he nods.

"It was a special time of the year, when the spirit did seem to infect the congregation.

It changed the tone of the prayers. There was something magical about the hymns.

The one time when the veil between this world and the next seemed to thin enough to feel the presence of The Other. "

He lapses into silence, and I swallow around the ball of emotion in my throat. "That was almost poetic."

"That's when I was a believer."

"What do you believe in now?" The words are out before I can stop them. Because I need to know what it is that drives this man. When he walked away from his calling, how did he cope? By his own admission, he was unmoored. What is he holding onto now? How does he move from one day to the next when what he once put his faith in doesn’t exist anymore?

When he doesn’t answer, I touch his shoulder. He flinches, and it’s as if someone slapped me. I begin to retreat, but he grabs my hand, then brings it to his mouth and kisses it, before placing it on his knee. "Sorry, I’m still getting used to having someone else in my space, in my life."

"You didn’t think it through when you decided to marry?"

One side of his lips lifts. Another almost-smile. Whoo-hoo, that’s a score right there for me.

"I hadn’t thought it through when I asked you to marry me. I didn’t realize how you were going to turn my world upside down. How you were going to occupy space in my mind, my thoughts… My heart."

I freeze. "Did you say—"

"My heart, yes. I swore not to lie to you anymore, remember?"

"So you do have feelings for me?"

"Isn’t that evident?"

"But you still don’t trust me enough to take your clothes off in front of me?"