Dirty Little Promise (Forbidden Desires #2)

Emma

We’d adjusted to living together with only a few minor bumps in the road. Gavin was a neat freak and employed a housekeeper who came twice a week to do all the cleaning and laundry. I joked that that fact alone was worth marrying him for.

His sexual appetite for me hadn’t cooled, not that I’d wanted it to. The fact that he needed me pretty much daily—that he couldn’t seem to pass me by in the hall without stealing a kiss—it made me feel incredibly wanted. Incredibly loved and cherished.

We alternated cooking and ordering takeout, and generally figured out a simple system that worked best for us. My favorite was the quiet nights we spent in the media room, sharing a ten-dollar pizza and a sixty-dollar bottle of wine while cuddled together on the couch.

When we first announced our engagement and then our wedding date just a few weeks later, it had been difficult to convince our friends and family I wasn’t pregnant. From our first date to our wedding day was only three and a half months. But when you knew, you just knew.

This was no shotgun wedding. My affections for Gavin had begun almost a year before we officially met, so to us, of course, it felt like much longer. A year of an unrequited crush, a year of yearning—it was a long time. And we were done waiting. It was a whirlwind engagement, but we wanted to spend every night together, to wake up together every morning. He was my other half, and his presence made me feel whole.

By Christmastime, when I wasn’t “showing” and was still drinking an occasional glass of wine, Bethany and my mother were forced to finally ease up about the whole baby thing.

But I didn’t want to think about that right now, didn’t want to think about the conversation about kids I’d forced onto Gavin the night of our wedding. We would figure it out and navigate it in our own way, just like we did everything else. I had to have faith—the alternative was just too grim—and it was Christmas, time to be festive and happy.

Pushing those thoughts from my brain, I turned toward the full-length mirror again, hurrying to get ready for the ugly-Christmas-sweater party we were attending at Forbidden Desires tonight.

I knew Gavin was going to appreciate the black silk stockings and black Christian Louboutin heels he’d gotten me. He hadn’t even said anything; they’d just appeared. But he was always doing things like that lately, ordering me wonderful gifts online, or picking up things he thought I’d like in cute little boutiques on his way home from the office.

Sometimes, for no reason at all, silky lingerie would arrive in a gift box. A designer handbag was delivered the day after I complained about the straps on my old purse fraying. My favorite, by far, was a vintage book of poetry that showed up at the breakfast table.Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

And then tonight, I found my new sexy, daring heels sitting on the ivory-colored tufted bench at the end of our bed with a note in Gavin’s neat handwritten scrawl.

Wife,

Wear these for me tonight?

— G

I couldn’t refuse him. The shoes were exquisite, but paired with my ugly Christmas sweater? The effect was more comical than sexy.

I arranged my long hair over my shoulders, hoping that would hide some of the hideousness, and strutted from the bathroom, trying to own my new look. No one at the party could fault me for not trying, because the dancing green and red drunken elves across my chest were proof of my level of commitment to tonight’s festivities.

“Gavin?” I called, rounding the corner to the living room. I found him standing near the fireplace, reading the Christmas card my parents had sent. Every year, they wrote a lengthy Christmas letter to all their friends and family, and this year’s included their bliss at their only daughter’s marriage to a Mr. Gavin Kingsley. It still warmed my heart to think about how they had accepted him into the fold, despite their initial reservations.

“Fuck,” he said gruffly when he looked up.

I tugged on my miniskirt again. “I look stupid, don’t I?”

He placed the card back on the mantel before turning to face me again. He stalked toward me with calculated steps, not stopping until he’d wandered around behind me, appraising me from every angle.

“You look stunning.”

“Gavin?” I said in a warning voice when he stopped to face me.

My heart rate accelerated because I knew that look in his eye. It was one that said he wanted to dominate and control, and fuck me until I was a gasping mess. And I also knew that our friends and family were waiting on us. My parents would be there, for heaven’s sake.

He wasn’t wearing an ugly Christmas sweater, but then again, he was Gavin fucking Kingsley. I’d never expected him to. Instead, he was dressed in a pair of perfectly tailored dark jeans, low suede boots, a crisp white button-down shirt, and the tie I’d gotten him as a compromise. It was hunter green with little red Christmas trees all over it. The effect was actually quite adorable, and I melted a little inside.

He stroked my cheek, his eyes still molten and adoring.

“You wore it,” I murmured.

“Of course I did.”

• • •

Gavin

“Take off your skirt and panties,” I said, my voice resolute.

Emma hesitated, lifting her delicate chin to meet my steely gaze. “But we’ll be late for the party.”

I stalked closer. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

For a moment, I didn’t think she’d obey. It would have been a first—but then she reached beneath her leather miniskirt and drew a pair of lacy black panties down to her knees. When they dropped to her slim ankles, she rested a hand on my shoulder, supporting her weight as she carefully stepped out of them, making sure they didn’t get tangled in the lovely stiletto heels she wore.

Next came the hiss of the zipper on the back of her skirt as she lowered it. Then Emma was standing before me with her bare cunt, her mouthwatering cunt, wearing nothing but black silk stockings and heels with that ridiculous fucking ugly Christmas sweater.

I knew she felt a little strange and highly exposed, and that was what I wanted. I’d use her uncertainty to test her limits, to push her to new levels of pleasure.

Releasing my belt with a swift tug, I unbuttoned my jeans and drew down my zipper, freeing all nine inches of my hard dick. Her gaze fell to my groin, and Emma sucked in a sharp inhale as two bright spots of color appeared high on her cheeks.

Her body and all its reactions were an aphrodisiac to me.

“Do you see what you do to me?” I hissed, sounding angrier than I actually felt.

Emma didn’t respond.

“I thought being married was supposed to calm you down, that it would make me docile and relaxed. Instead, I get hard every time you walk into the room, and I want you more with each passing day. I want to make you cry out in pleasure, to watch you lose yourself, to know that it’s me and only me you come for.”

“Yes,” she said softly, sagging against my chest.

“What was that, sweet wife?” I whispered near her ear.

Emma straightened, meeting my eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Bringing my hand between her legs, I stroked her once, so slowly, savoring how soft and warm she felt. And smirking at the fact that she was already wet.

“Is that for me?” I asked, teasing her slick skin. It was soft. So heavenly soft, and I wanted to lose myself in her. To push inside and never leave. But, first things first. I took a deep breath, composing myself.

Tossing my tie over one shoulder, I placed one hand firmly against her shoulder, encouraging her to sink to her knees before me.

Realizing that she rested on the hardwood floor, I sighed and coaxed her forward by taking a few steps back until we were on the plush living room rug. God, when had I become such a fucking softy? Falling in love would do that to a man, I supposed.

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.”