Married to the Secret Billionaire

“If you have to ask, I’m not doing it right,” he replies, looking pained.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” I reassure him, and hop up to help with the umbrella. But I turn out to be more a hindrance than help, so I lie back on the blanket and leave him to complete the setup on his own.

Before long, we have our own little paradise arranged. There are tea cakes and sandwiches in the basket, along with some thermoses of chilled iced tea. We prop those in the sand and arrange our feast on the blanket, safely away from the sandy ground. As we eat, we talk about our favorite things. His favorite color is blue; mine is red. His favorite animal is a golden retriever. Mine would be a cat.

When we get to favorite foods, I burst into hysterical laughter. “Your favorite food is lobster?” I ask him between gasps for air.

“What? It’s delicious. Better than pizza.” He nudges me with a bare foot.

My nose wrinkles. “It’s fine, I guess. It’s basically just a giant underwater cockroach.”

He presses a hand to his chest like I’ve personally offended him. “You cannot have eaten good lobster. Prepared correctly, in a butter sauce with just a hint of seasoning, when it’s fresh…”

“Do you realize how bougie you sound right now?” I ask, rolling my eyes and nudging him back. He catches my bare foot in one hand to stop me. “First the BMW, now lobster…” I catch his eye with a smirk. “For a pool boy, you have very fine taste.”

“What does that say about you?” he asks, lifting my ankle until he can lean in and kiss the tender skin on the inside. It makes my breath hitch. He notices, and with a pantherlike grin, he pushes our plates aside and leans down, kissing farther up my leg. His lips roam across my calf, then his tongue laps underneath my knee, tasting the underside like he’s licking an ice cream cone in the sun.

I shiver and find myself lying back along the blanket, unable to resist. “What if someone sees us?” I protest, tilting my head back to glance up over my chin at the road behind us. His car is still the only one shining in the sunlight along that makeshift parking lot. And I haven’t seen anyone else the whole time we’ve been eating. But still…

“If someone interrupts us,” he says, trailing his lips up to my inner thigh, now. Then higher. Higher. “I will personally make them regret ever setting foot on this beach.”

His voice, more of a growl now, sends a shiver of electricity through me. I love when he sounds like this. So possessive, so in-charge. I lie back fully now, stretched along the blanket, as he reaches up to grasp the hem of my dress. He hikes it up around my hips, and I gasp a little at being so exposed, out here in broad daylight.

“So you’re… prepared to… fight someone, to protect my modesty?” I manage, my voice trembling a little as his mouth reaches my upper thighs. He parts my legs, and his tongue darts out to trace the edges of my panties, making my breath hitch in my throat.

“Oh yes. Or worse.” He tilts his head up, his chin propped on my thigh for a moment, eyes burning into mine. “I would do just about anything to protect you, Sinclair.”

My belly tightens. My breath stops. He doesn’t know what he’s offering. He doesn’t know how real that need is.

I push the thought down, force it away. Try to be here. Stay with him, I tell myself. But with those words fresh in my mind, it’s difficult to do.

His mouth, at least, knows how to distract me. He hooks a thumb under my panties and with a swift, practiced tug, he yanks them down around my knees. I gasp, especially at the sensation of the sea breeze across my bare pussy. But he doesn’t leave me cool for long. His tongue drifts over to my mound, then lower. He licks each of my lower lips in turn, slowly, his tongue flattened like a blade as he does. It makes me shiver and groan a little under my breath.

“God, you are already soaked.” He shakes his head with a low, throaty chuckle. “Sinclair, for a virgin, you are a very dirty girl, do you know that?” His grin flashes, hungry.

I reach down, emboldened by his stares, by the way he treats me like something precious, like someone desirable. “I blame you,” I tell him, running my hands through his thick, dark hair. “You have me so damn distracted. All I can think about is earlier, in the pool house. The things you did with your tongue…”

“Do you want me to do them again?” he asks, his breath hot on my skin.