Married to the Secret Billionaire

“I’m going to come,” he murmurs, voice low in his throat, tight as he tries to control himself. “I want you to swallow it, Sinclair. Swallow my cum.”

I moan in agreement, and that sensation alone, the vibration of my mouth around the shaft of his cock, is enough to set him over the edge. He grips my hair one last time, drives his cock all the way into my throat and finishes hard, coming in my mouth. I swallow, reflexive, and pull back a little, starting to lick every drop from his shaft. I fucking love it, the sensation, the taste of him.

I never knew cum could taste so damn good.

“My hungry girl.” He smirks, and I pause to grin up at him, knowing he loves the look of my face afterward. He runs a hand through my now-soaking wet hair again, and gently pulls me to my feet in front of him in the shower. “My turn.”

Needless to say, the shower takes a while longer.

We wind up running the hot water all the way down to lukewarm, which is impressive in an office of this size. But at least by the time we finish, not only am I breathless and flushed, but I’m completely pie free.

We finish dressing and stumble back out into his office to find that the sun has already set, and it’s well past our dinner reservation. Neither of us care.

Ankor grabs his things as I wait for him by the door, flushed with pleasure, smiling as I watch him. He pauses, glancing toward his chair and frowning. He swipes a finger along the edge of it, and it comes away stained a purplish color. Blackberry. He shakes off the bit of fruit into the garbage can and glances in my direction, curious.

“Well, the cleaning staff are definitely going to have their hands full tonight,” he murmurs, making sure to leave a wad of cash on the desk as he goes. He’s always considerate like that. Another thing I love about him.

He extends his hand to me, and I slip mine into his grip, loving how strong his hand feels wrapped around mine. How safe and protective.

For a while, I think I’ve gotten away with it. But then the elevators close behind us, on our way down through the now empty office toward the lobby. Once we’re alone in the lift, he turns to me.

“So, are you going to tell me what that was all about?”

“All what?” I ask, trying for an innocent smile.

All it gets me in return is an arched eyebrow. “So you just came into my office covered head to toe in pie for fun.”

“You weren’t complaining about the taste,” I pointed out.

“Would have tasted better if I could have eaten a slice—although I’m not complaining about getting to eat some off of my favorite dish.” The elevator reaches the ground floor, and he makes sure to take the opportunity to smack me on the ass firmly as we step out of it.

I roll my eyes over my shoulder at him, and then we both break off to wave to the doorman, who’s squinting at me suspiciously, as if wondering what I did with all the mess I had earlier. My cheeks flush. I wait until we’re out in the fresh air of the unusually warm autumn night.

We stroll another block before Ankor nudges me. “Well? What happened.”

“You know…” I hesitate, the story on the tip of my tongue. But then I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. Honestly, Ankor, the past, all of it… it doesn’t scare me anymore. It has no hold over me now. What happened in the past is over, and it can’t hurt either us.” I squeeze his hand. “What matters is what comes next. What matters is where we’re headed, you and me.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss the top of my head. “You realize I’ll get this story out of you someday, right?”

I chuckle softly. “I know. But trust me. Right now? It does not matter.”

“I do,” he murmurs. When I frown a little, confused, he adds, “Trust you.” Then he winks. “So, if you’d rather not talk about it now, we won’t. Let’s talk about where we’re headed instead, then.”

“Where are we headed?” I ask, because we’ve turned in the opposite direction of our apartment.

“I have an idea,” is all he’ll say in response. Even when I pester him.

But pretty soon, it becomes obvious. We’re steering toward Central Park. I’m not about to complain. It’s my favorite part of the city, especially at this hour, with dusk in the sky and the stars—what few you can see in Manhattan anyway—just starting to peek out between the clouds above.

It’s a warm night, even for this late in fall. It’s my favorite time of year—the leaves have started to change overhead, and closer to the park, instead of the usual city scents, there’s the scent of trees and dry leaves crunching under our feet. And the scent of hay, then the tangy smell of horses.