She shivers, letting out a sigh as my mouth works higher. I pause to flick my tongue along the backs of her knees until she squirms, and then I trail my tongue up her inner thighs, one at a time, moving so slowly it makes her shiver with want.
“You have perfect thighs.” I rest my chin along one and gaze up at her, across the expanse of her belly. She watches me with a sly smile.
“Perfect thighs that lead up to perfect hips…” I run my tongue up each of her legs, one after the next, and then trace the tip of my tongue along the crease where her legs meet her hip bones. “An impossibly fucking perfect pussy.” Without warning, I press my face between her legs, running my tongue along her slit, pressing so hard she gasps and bucks up against me. But I pull away, gripping her hips with both hands and flipping her over beneath me.
She laughs, which quickly shifts to a gasp as I run my tongue over the little dimples in the small of her back. “A perfect ass, too.” I trace my tongue down, before lightly biting her cheek. She gasps, and I grin when she glances over her shoulder at me, scandalized. “Can you blame me? I mean, look at this ass.” I squeeze her other cheek with my free hand and lean in to kiss the red spot I left with my bite.
“And I’ve barely even really appreciated your ass, you know.” I reach up to massage both of her cheeks in my hands. Then I spread them. Her eyes go wide. “Someday, we’re going to have to explore.”
She catches her lower lip between her teeth. “Someday,” she agrees, looking torn halfway between desire and worry.
I wink at her, then lean down and run my tongue along the cleft between her cheeks. “If your ass is as sweet as your pussy…” I run the flat of my tongue along her until I find the tight pucker of her asshole. I lick at that spot, circling it with the tip of my tongue until she moans aloud.
Then I grin, chuckling softly, my hot breath making her feel even warmer where I just licked. Then I let go of her ass and trail my tongue up her back. I count every one of her vertebrae with my tongue. I nip and bite at her hips, her love handles. I tell her what perfect hips, shoulders, arms she has. I kiss along her neck, and flip her back right-side up beneath me, until I finally reach her mouth.
“This perfect mouth?” I whisper, tracing the edges of it with a fingertip. “I could kiss it all day and not get tired.” I press my lips to hers, and she sighs a little, parting her lips to allow me entry. My tongue twines around hers, toying with her. She’s so soft and supple, irresistible. I break our kiss just far enough to lean back and study those gorgeous baby blue eyes of hers, as beautiful and clear as the sky over Maui.
“I love you, Sinclair,” I whisper.
Those blue eyes go wide and round, as she realizes what I just said. Her reaction makes me smile. Even after all this time, I can still surprise her, clearly. But she only takes a second to recover. “I love you, Ankor,” she whispers back, and that name in her mouth, my name, fits me better than Marco ever did. I love being Ankor with her, because it means being myself. Not Marco Helmtree, wealthy billionaire, tech world wunderkind.
Just Ankor. Swim instructor, beach bum. Sinclair’s. And that’s really all that matters to me, in the end.
I kiss her again, soft and slow and sweet, and she arches up to meet me, her naked body pressed flush against mine. I’m so hard I can barely stand it. But I’m going to take my time with her. This time, and every time, from now until forever. That’s my silent promise to her.
“I love you,” I whisper again, just to be sure she’s heard it. Just to be sure she believes me. Then I slide my hands down to part her thighs.
“I love you, Ankor.” She arches up against me, and she’s so fucking soft it drives me wild. I can’t remember ever being this hard before, this eager for someone. “I want to feel you inside me.”
That’s all I need. I run my hand between her legs, all the way up until my fingers are cupping her pussy. Gently, I spread her lower lips. Ease one index finger along her slit, working my way back and forth. “I love feeling you shiver like that,” I murmur, when a shiver of pleasure runs through her. I lean down to kiss the arch of her neck, and let my teeth graze her skin lightly, just to make her do it again.
She smiles, turning so her lips graze the stubble along my jawline. “I love when you make me shiver like that.”
“What else do you like me to make you do?” I grin and kiss her again, harder, right as I press my index finger inside her. She moans a little into my mouth, arching up against me as I push my finger knuckle-deep into her pussy. I curl it slightly in her, dragging it out slowly, so it runs along her inner wall. Right at her entrance, I push it back in again, making her arch her hips up against me.
“I like when you… make me come for you,” she whispers, her voice hitching a little as I add a second finger inside her.
I rock my hand slowly, in and out of her, building toward a rhythm. She lifts her hips to grind her pelvis against the heel of my hand, and I gently use my free hand to press her back down against the bed, pinning her there as I finger her, slower and slower.
She lets out a little huff, wriggling beneath me. “Fuck me, Ankor. Fuck me, please.”
My smile widens. “I love hearing you beg.”
“Please,” she repeats, louder, those blue eyes fixed on me.
She doesn’t have to ask again.
Pushing into her is like coming home. A groan of pleasure escapes my throat as my cock drives into her tight, wet pussy. She feels so fucking good. Even better when she wraps those long, lean legs of hers around my waist and hooks her hands over my shoulders.
I lie down along her, one hand cupping her ass, the other pinning her shoulders to the bed. I lean back, just far enough so I can meet her eyes as I push into her, slowly, further and further, until my shaft is buried inside her, and she’s moaning with pleasure.
“God you feel so fucking good,” I murmur against her lips, distracted.
“I love how you fill me,” she whispers.
I kiss her lips, slow and sweet. Then draw out, just a few inches. Enough to push back inside her again, slow and steady. She starts to rock her hips against mine as I find my rhythm. “You are a fucking marvel,” I tell her, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face before I pull out, push back in again.
Her eyelids flutter, half-closed now. “I don’t want this to end.”
“It won’t, Sinclair. It won’t.”
We go slow that night. All night, neither of us rushed. We want to take our time, enjoy every inch of one another. And when we finally finish—when I’ve finally made her come enough times that I feel satisfied finishing myself, and letting her lick my cock until it’s clean and we’re both breathless from the pleasure—she lies across my chest, arms draped around me, eyes shut. Perfectly trusting.
I don’t fall asleep, though. Not right away. I stay up, listening to the sound of her breathing as it slows. Running my hands through her hair and wondering how on earth I got so lucky. Wanting to do anything to keep her happy, to keep her safe. To keep her with me.
Eventually I must fall asleep after all, because I wake up to the dawn light creeping through my windows, and Sinclair still wrapped in my arms, her head pillowed against my chest, her breathing slow and even. I smile and gently roll her to the side, then slip under the covers I pulled up over us last night.
I kiss my way down the flat plane of her belly, lower. I move until my mouth is against her mound, and kiss her softly, slowly. Lower, lower. I part her thighs gently and run my tongue along the crease of each leg, one after the next. She shivers and lets out a sigh of pleasure in her sleep. I smile and run my tongue along the lips of her pussy, slowly parting them with my tongue, before I press it fully along her slit.
She moans a little louder and shifts against the bed.
I keep watching her, even as I drag my tongue along her length, up to her clit, which I gently run the flat blade of my tongue along, pressing just hard enough to make her moan again. Her eyelids flutter. She shifts a little, confused,
and glances down to find me between her thighs. Her eyes go wide, her eyebrows rising… And then she reaches down to run her hands through my hair, smiling.
I press my tongue between her folds again, and push the tip into her entrance, making her moan last just a shade longer. She parts her legs, and I slide one hand beneath her to lift her ass, pulling her hips against my face.
She tightens her hands in my hair, bucking against me as I tongue her over and over. It doesn’t take long before she’s crying out my name, her whole body arched against the sheets. I keep tonguing her clit, as her toes curl and her body trembles with the force of the orgasm.
After, I kiss my way back up along the gorgeous, perfect expanse of her body, until my mouth finds hers. I kiss her again, hard and deep, knowing she can taste her juices on my mouth. She tastes so fucking good. When we break apart, I grin.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“Mm…” She shifts a little, reaching up to hook her arms around my shoulders. “Can you wake me up like that every morning, please?” she murmurs, laughing a little.
With a smile, I lean in to kiss her again, harder. “Every morning for the rest of our lives,” I promise when we break apart. The smile I get in return is enough to keep me going for a long, long time. “But there’s one more thing.” I wink, and leave her staring after me in confusion, still piled under the covers of our bed.
After a few minutes, she calls from the bedroom, “Am I supposed to stay here?”
“Just be patient,” I respond from the kitchen. It takes a little longer than I intend, truth be told. It’s been a while since I’ve tried to cook anything for myself—one of the benefits of being first rich, and then working as a swim instructor at a resort where board was included. But I still remember one dish, which one of my nannies taught me as a child, saying I’d need it at some point.
It takes a couple of tries, by which point Sinclair has probably guessed what I’m doing, to judge by the distant laughter from the bedroom. But eventually I get it right. I fill the breakfast tray I’ve had lying around for years, completely unused, with the pancakes I’ve just made. I add a little flower to the corner—the kind of flowers I’ve been bringing home for her every few days, just a little reminder of Maui.
Passion flowers, of course.
Then I add coffee, and bring the tray in to her, lying it across her lap as she stares at me over the top of the book she picked up to read while she was waiting.
“Okay, seriously.” She’s smirking. “What’s the occasion? Why are you spoiling me?”
“Because I want to,” I reply, dropping into the bed beside her and stealing her fork to take a bite of the pancake. I lean in and kiss her cheek quickly. “And because you deserve to be spoiled like this. Every day of your life.”
She eyes me, one eyebrow lifted. “Are you agreeing to make breakfast every day of our lives?”
“Okay, maybe not exactly like this, but…”
She laughs and takes a bite, then nods.
“Good?” I ask, my eyebrows rising.
“Fantastic,” she murmurs, and leans in to kiss me, her lips tasting like butter and syrup. Then I kiss her back, and we both forget about breakfast for a while.
13
Ankor
It’s been three perfect months in New York. Three months of life with Sinclair. And in those three months, I’ve learned more about love and romantic relationships than in my entire life before now. There’s nobody else I’d rather spend every day with. Nobody else I’d rather come home to after a day at the office; nobody else I’d rather spoil every chance I get, with carriage rides through Central Park and trips to the opera. The look on her face at the singing alone was more interesting to me than the show itself.
I love her reactions to everything. How overjoyed she is at life itself.
We take weekend trips up to my parents’ place in the Hamptons while it’s still warm. I convince her to swim at the beach, even. The waves aren’t as big here in the north of the Atlantic as they were in surf-central Maui. She swims out deeper than I’d have expected her to, surprising me. Even when we rent a fishing boat to go out, she doesn’t seem scared anymore. She leans over the edge of the boat, laughing as dolphins appear and jump alongside us.
In the evenings, we grill fish on the beach with my family, laughing and joking. Margot and Sinclair spend more time together, especially on days when I need to go into the office to help with new product development or launches. It makes me happy to see them getting along. My sister has always been critical of the women I’ve dated—and to be fair, unfortunately, she’s always turned out to be right in the end. So it makes me smile to see her approval of Sinclair.
Not that I’m surprised. Nobody who meets Sinclair can resist her.
On weekends we’re not with my family, we go to the theater, musicals and plays alike. Or we see concerts in the park. One day we walk all the way down to the south pier just to see it. She gasps at the sight of the Statue of Liberty, then, and I can’t resist. I book us a private helicopter ride, taking us around the statue itself, so close it almost feels like we should be able to reach out and grab it.
She laughs the whole time, eyes bright with delight.
And I want to spend the rest of my life doing this. Spoiling her. Taking her out, enjoying her reactions to the world.
That’s how I find myself alone on Fifth Avenue, prowling some of the best designer jewelry stores, a man on a mission. Because just any ring won’t do. I have to find the right one. The perfect one, just like her. A ring that tells her exactly what she means to me, every single day she wears it.
I’m in the sixth store already.
“Let me just fetch some of our new designs from the back,” the manager is saying. “We haven’t put them out in the window yet; they’re new…”
I smile, which makes him run even faster. Only when he’s out of sight do I let out a sigh. So far, nothing has seemed right. Some are too gaudy. Others too plain. Some just downright ridiculous looking. Like a cocktail ring, not an engagement one.
Engagement.
I’ve talked it over with my parents. They worry I’m jumping into this too soon. But they do like Sinclair. Even Margot does. That’s a first for my family. Normally everyone hates whatever girl I’m dating within three minutes of meeting her.
Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve yet to meet someone who’s immune to Sinclair’s charms.
I’m lost in thought when the jeweler reappears. Before he even sets the tray down, my eyes go wide. Because there it is. Perfection. The ring I’ve been looking for.
It’s not a traditional diamond. It’s a sapphire, almost as blue as Sinclair’s eyes—or as blue as the ocean where we met. It’s flanked by two princess cut diamonds, and ringed by smaller diamonds as well, but the effect isn’t showy or gaudy. It’s tasteful. Rich without flaunting it.
“I’ll take it,” I say without bothering to look at the price.
The man’s face lights up. There’s a reason every jewelry designer in the past five blocks have been fawning over me. Commission is a lovely incentive.
He reads me off the price, and I hand over cash, plus extra. “For you,” I tell him, and that only makes his smile bigger.
He’s still wrapping up the box when the doors breeze inward. At first I think it’s just another customer. But then, an irritatingly familiar voice pipes up.
“Well, fancy seeing you in a place like this.”
I turn, my fists tightening with fury. Sure enough, there’s Lily, planted right across from me. She looks the same as ever. Cheap high heels, two seasons’ old outfit, sloppily applied lipstick. She’s also got her cell phone out, and before I can react, she snaps a photo of me, straight on. In a fucking jewelry store.
My face goes red. “Do not post that, Lily.”
“Always trying to tell me what to do. You’re so controlling, Marco, do you know that?”
“God, you are full of yourself.” I scowl and turn
back around to accept the shopping bag from the man behind the counter. When I do, the guy catches my eye.
“Would you like me to call someone, sir?”
“That’s all right, I can handle this.” The last thing I’m doing is feeding the local tabloids the news break of the year by calling the cops on my possessive ex. I take the bag and brush past Lily toward the exit.
She grabs my arm halfway out the door. Her hands settles on the bag. “I can’t believe this. Are you really buying an engagement ring for her?” She practically shouts the latter half of the sentence, and the moment I stick my head out the door, I can see why. The street is crammed with people. Some of them no doubt recognized Lily from her YouTube channel and stopped to watch her. More still, unfortunately, seem to recognize me, once they catch a glimpse. More camera phones appear in every direction.
Fuck.
“Lily, this is none of your business.” I try to walk away but find myself walled in by the crowd.
“None of my business?” She storms after me. “How is it none of my business that you cheated on me with some hooker in Hawaii?”
“She’s not a hooker!” I turn on her, face red, fists balled. It takes effort to reign myself in. I can’t do this. I can’t break down and fight in public. It’s not a good look, no matter who Lily is, no matter what she’s done to me. “Don’t talk about her like you know her. You don’t know either of us, Lily, especially not me.”
“I loved you. And this is how you treat me?” She’s good. She even has fake tears glittering in her eyes.
I have to resist the urge to roll mine. I wonder if she’s been taking acting classes. “You never loved me, Lily, you loved the attention. Even now.” I fling my arms out and turn in a slow circle, gesturing at everyone in attendance. “The Lily show is on air. That’s all I ever was to you, Lil. A prop. A means to an end. You wanted more fame than you had before, more money, more attention. Well, now you have it. I hope you and your fame are very, very happy together. But I’m done being used. I’ve found something real.”
Married to the Secret Billionaire Page 12
