I was still fully dressed—my shirt buttoned to the throat, my leather shoes in a wide stance as I stood before her like a king. Only my cock was drawn out for her to pleasure me.

Emma wrapped me in her warm palm, and as good as it felt, the need for control clawed at me.

“Did I say you could use your hands?” I snapped.

She released my cock with a soft whimper, placing her hands behind her back as she brought her mouth to me instead.

“There. Just like that.”

Feather-soft licks traced down the length of my shaft, stopping at my balls where she nuzzled into me, causing my breath to lodge in my throat.

Fuck.

I stroked the silky strands of her hair back from her face, watching her work and very much enjoying the show. She sucked me deeper, causing a groan to rip from my throat.

Jesus.

“Swallow that cock. Just like that.”

Emma took me deeper still, flattening her tongue and gliding along my now glistening flesh.

“Good girl.”

“Is this okay, sir?” Her tone was teasing. She knew damn well it was fucking incredible.

“You’re doing fine. And maybe, if you can make me come,” I glanced at my watch, “in the next four minutes, I’ll reward you.” The truth was, we were running late, but none of that mattered the moment Emma walked out of our bedroom looking the way she did.

She redoubled her efforts, her head bobbing, her tongue lapping, all while she made the most toe-curling wet sucking sounds against my dick. Those noises alone were enough to undo me.

After a couple of minutes watching her suck me off, the need for control flared inside me, making my palms itch. I needed to take over. Needed it almost as badly as I needed my next breath.

“Stay still,” I ordered.

Emma stopped, her mouth open, waiting for my next command.

Placing my hands on either side of her face, I pushed forward, testing her. Emma let out a tiny moan. That was all the invitation I needed. Soon, I was thrusting my hips, fucking her throat in hard jabs—again and again—until my ass muscles clenched and I came in a loud grunt, my semen disappearing down her throat before she had the chance to pull away. Not that she would have.

“Well done, pet.” I checked my watch again with a smirk before offering her a hand and helping her to her feet.

I led her to the kitchen island, her heels clicking across the wood floor as she followed. When we reached the marble island, I lifted her, sitting her right on top of it. She flinched at the chill of the stone against her bare ass.

“You okay?” I murmured.

Emma gave me a slight nod, her eyes on mine, her pupils dilated with an equal mix of desire and uncertainty.

“You did such a nice job swallowing my cock, I’m going to let you come on my tongue. Would you like that, love?”

Emma blinked at me several times in quick succession. I wondered if she was about to argue again that we’d be late for the party, but then she gave a soft sigh and leaned back on her elbows, her knees parted in invitation.

I started slowly, bringing my mouth close to her, letting my breath ghost over her slick flesh.

She was pink and soft and all mine. Knowing she was my wife, that it was my ring on her finger, made it all the sweeter. Knowing that no man would ever touch her again, that it was solely my responsibility to cherish her and pleasure her was a heady feeling, and one I didn’t take lightly. I would protect her always, would love her forever, and I’d make damn sure my bride was satisfied all the days of her life.

As I slid one finger inside her warm cunt, Emma released a soft whimper. My dick hardened again at the sound of her, at the sight of her taking her pleasure. Her hips rocked forward, and she shamelessly rubbed her pretty cunt all over my mouth.

Pulling back, I nibbled at her inner thigh, leaving soft bite marks against her skin. “Stay nice and still,” I warned.

Emma obeyed, and I rewarded her by flattening my tongue and working her clit over at a frenzied pace.

“Gavin!” she cried out, already incredibly close.

As I pumped my fingers in and out, Emma trembled, her body tightening as her orgasm drew closer still. I ate her like she was my favorite meal, lapping up every last drop of the sweet honey she gave me.

“Give it to me,” I murmured.

Emma came with a cry that was the sweetest song I’d ever heard. Afterward, she looked at me like she didn’t know whether to thank me or return the favor.

When I fetched her clothes and helped her down from the counter, she redressed, supporting herself against me, still shaky in her heels, her cheeks flushed and pink.

I loved the blissful look on her face. She looked almost confused about what had transpired since she’d walked out of the bedroom, and it was fucking adorable.

“Are you ready to go see your parents?” I asked with a pleased smirk.

Emma nodded.

“Good.” I helped her into her coat and we headed for the door.

On the ride down the elevator, I pulled Emma close, bringing my mouth to her neck.

“I love you a million billion,” I whispered against her skin.

Her eyes flashed on mine, and a slow smile uncurled on her lips. “I love you a million billion,” she whispered back.

My heart was so full, so full of her, of her love, I felt like anything was possible. She made me strong and brave and whole.

And I knew with certainty I’d love her until my dying breath.

“Let’s go have some fun tonight,” I said, and she grinned at me.

“Let’s.”

• • •

Emma

When we arrived at the office Christmas party, I was momentarily taken aback by the sight of so many beautiful women in one place. All these months, it had been easy to forget that Gavin ran an escort agency, but now? Not so much.

Gavin didn’t release my hand as he led me into the office. And he didn’t so much as glance at any of the women.

I stopped to hug Alyssa and waved to a couple of people I recognized, feeling calmer already. The invite list for their ugly-sweater party read like an enviable who’s who of the Boston social scene. Politicians and notable members of the media were there, as well as a couple of professional athletes.

And then there were my parents, standing near the punch bowl with wide eyes.

Oh dear God.

I prayed for their sake—and mine—that the eggnog was heavily spiked.

“Hey, Mom.” Gavin greeted my mother, pulling her into a swift hug with an easy smile.

She beamed, patting his chest. “Don’t you look handsome as ever, son.”

“Hi, Mom,” I said, giving her a hug.

I was perfectly okay with playing second fiddle to Gavin. It was sweet, their adoration and understanding for each other. To say that Gavin had won my mom over was the understatement of the year. They had a very cute and special relationship.

“Daddy.” I grinned as I lifted up on my toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“You two are late,” my father said.

Gavin muttered an apology as he shook my father’s hand.

“Are you guys enjoying yourselves?” I asked, feeling a little self-conscious. What I meant was, Are you scarred for life?

Gavin had insisted upon inviting them, taking this whole family thing seriously. He had parents in his life for the first time in a long time, and he was trying to make the most of it. I never thought they’d actually come, but they were trying to accept all the various sides and sometimes sharp angles to their new son-in-law, so I knew I shouldn’t complain.

“It’s been rather . . . enlightening,” my mother said, her gaze darting to where a group of escorts in their twenties were doing shots at the bar.

My father nodded toward a white-haired man across the room. “Is that the CEO of Goldschmidt’s bank over there?”

Gavin nodded. “He’s been a client for years, actually. Good guy. I can introduce you later, if you like.”

My father’s face lit up like the Fourth of July. “That’d be terrific.”

My mother pursed her lips. “Don’t you even think about trading me in for one of these hot little numbers, Frank,” she warned.

That answered the question about whether the eggnog was spiked. My mother’s tongue was already loosened. God help us all tonight.



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