Married to the Secret Billionaire

I arch up against him, pulling him closer to me, suddenly unable to get enough of his hands all over me. “You put a baby in my belly,” I agree, before I turn to gently nip and suck at the spot where his neck meets his jawline. It always drives him wild. Sure enough, I can feel him press against me, feel the hard shaft of his cock start to grow against the side of my belly. Especially once I shift in front of him, making sure to rub against his crotch, slow, back and forth, pressing just hard enough to make him sigh with desire.

But we’re still standing in the middle of the street in front of the tattoo shop, so.

I expect him to pull away, slide behind the wheel. Tease and torment me the whole car ride home. Instead, he opens the backdoor and pushes me down along the seats.

I gasp, still smirking. “Are you going to deflower me right here, sir?”

He grins and leans down, pushing up my shirt just far enough to reveal my bump, and leaning in to kiss every inch of it, slowly, making sure to take his time and drag his tongue along the soft expanse of my skin here and there, his teeth lightly grazing me now and again. “I’m pretty sure I already deflowered you once.” He winks at me.

“Better try it again just to make sure,” I tell him.

He glances at the street around us. It’s dusk, and we’re off to the side of the road. Still, we’re pretty visible. But he climbs into the backseat with me and slams the door behind himself. Good thing we already upgraded to the family size car. And good thing he always insists on tinted windows.

Triply good thing that Jonathan has the night off, and Ankor and I decided to drive out to this tattoo parlor ourselves, mostly because the artist is an old friend, who Ankor knew he could count on to keep any sightings of us quiet.

Still, it makes my heart race faster to be risking things like this, in a semi-public place. Especially with me expecting and the gossip rags running every insane story they can come up with based on the few scant details they’ve been able to scrounge up about who I am and how I caught the notoriously hard-to-land Mr. Helmtree’s eye, while he was determined to hide away, no less.

But when Ankor’s hands are on me, I can’t resist him. I can’t make myself worry about anything but getting more of him.

He leans down to kiss the inside of my knees, one at a time, before he spreads them wide to either side of his waist, pushing my skirt up around my hips at the same time. “You’re mine, Sinclair,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss my belly, his hands wrapped around my hips, possessive and protective all at the same time.

I arch up against him with a sigh of pleasure. “I’m yours. All yours.”

His hands slide lower. One slips between my legs, and he runs a finger along my slit, roughly. “Someone’s already wet for me.”

In response, I slide my hand down to his pants, tracing my fingers over the thick, large bulge in his jeans. “Someone’s already hard for me.”

“Every time I think about you,” he says, eyes catching mine. “It’s really a problem at work.”

“You might have mentioned that before.” I grin evilly, not caring much. I may or may not have a tendency to send him the kind of dirty texts in the middle of his work day that distract him even worse.

He seems to enjoy it. At least he never complains.

My hands finally reach the clasp of his jeans, and I start to undo it, impatient. He sits back a little, watching me with a smirk. I hesitate for a second, feeling his gaze on my face, and look up to find him staring. “What?” I ask, still smiling.

“Nothing. Just, when did my good girl turn into such a dirty woman?” He winks.

“Probably when you corrupted her for the first time in that pool house,” I reply, suppressing a grin of my own.

“Mm. Now that, I remember. Frequently.” His eyes bore into mine, his gaze hot and hungry. I love when he looks at me like that, like he could devour me whole.

It makes the fire in my belly grow even hotter. I push his boxers down, and his cock stands at attention, hard as a rock. I run my hands over him, savoring the velvety smooth feel of his skin, and the hard feeling of his shaft underneath. I run my hands back and forth, tightening them slowly, watching his face for the way his eyes go hooded and dark with desire.

Finally, he catches my wrists and pins them over my head in one of his hands, before he reaches down to grip his cock himself, and guide it toward my entrance. When he pushes inside me, it’s with a low groan that I barely hear, because I’m letting out a long moan of my own.