Undeniably Infatuated (Boston's Irresistible Billionaires Book 3), page 27
Between that and my grandmother’s words in my head, I feel light. Almost euphoric.
“Our pictures are everywhere,” Tinsley muses, her head on my shoulder, her feet kicked up onto the seat across from us in the back of the limo.
“I’m not shocked.”
There were photographers all over the event. The room was packed with local celebrities, Loomis came as well, which was very cool of him.
“It’s a good one. See?” She turns her phone, and there we are, Tinsley on my arm, both of us looking at each other and smiling.
“It’s a good one,” I agree. “Yet another one for our future nine thousand grandchildren to see.”
“Speaking of, everyone I met tonight wants to know if we’ve set a date. I didn’t know what to say.”
“January twelfth,” rolls off my tongue without any thought. That’s the day after her last Boston concert. By then, she’s done filming. Usually, films don’t take this long, but with the holidays thrown in there and the fact that they’ve fallen behind schedule, things are getting stretched. “Or maybe we should just fly to Vegas tonight and get married.”
Her head swivels in my direction, and she stares at me while trying to read my expression to determine if I’m serious or not. My tone wasn’t, but the thought is starting to brew a little despite how flippantly it first rolled off my tongue.
She snorts incredulously. “You want to fly to Vegas tonight and get married?”
I shrug and then tilt my head. “Bad idea?”
She laughs. “Um, yeah. I’d say it is.”
“I take it a quickie Vegas wedding isn’t on your bucket list.”
“My father would cut off your balls.”
“It’s true. He would. Bad idea then. I’m very fond of my balls,” I quip, my voice light as I continue to tease her a bit. “Besides, we’ll need them for our ten kids if we want nine thousand grandkids.”
She gives me a look. “Are you okay?”
“That’s the second time tonight you’ve asked me.”
“I think the question bears repeating.”
I chuckle. “My grandmother threw me off tonight. She has a tendency to do that. I’m also living a life with you that’s part fake and part something I never thought I’d get. I’m not sure I know how to do that so well. We’ll tell people my kickass, superstar fiancée has a busy schedule, and we haven’t figured out a date for our wedding yet.”
She frowns, but before she can reply, we pull up in front of my building, and the driver opens the door for us. I take her hand and we race for the door, fighting the chill in the air and a couple of tabloid assholes still there. We climb into the elevator, and she wraps her arms around my neck as we shoot up sixteen floors.
“When I get married one day, I don’t want it to be following a fake engagement.”
“I know. Me either. I wasn’t serious about Vegas.” My hands meet her ass over her coat and dress. “What do you want?”
“You.” The word comes out sweet and easy.
“You have me. Anytime you want me.”
I dip and take her lips with mine in a demanding kiss. The truth is, I’ve never felt such a tormenting mix of protectiveness, love, and blinding desire to make someone mine. It’s making me rush things I don’t want to rush. Things that should never be rushed.
Part of me can’t seem to help myself. She’s water slipping through my fingers.
32
We cross into Stone’s apartment, shutting and locking the door behind us. He helps me out of my coat and hangs it up in the closet before he does the same with his own. I can’t believe Octavia knew all this time, and it makes me wonder who else knew or at the very least suspected.
Honestly, I don’t want to know, and I sure as hell am not about to start asking.
I slip off my shoes, dropping down about six inches, the balls of my feet sighing in relief. The apartment is quiet and dark, and silently we enter Stone’s bedroom, but in a flash, he has my hips and is swinging me over to the windows overlooking the park.
He presses me against it, forcing my hands to the glass to brace me, and then his lips are at my ear, his eyes glowing green in the reflection of the window. He’s so gorgeous my pulse thrums through my body just looking at him.
With those eyes locked on mine, he takes the top half of my dress and wrenches it down, the sound of fabric tearing along with my loud inhale the only sound.
“I told you I was going to ruin this dress.”
“And the window?”
“Do you trust me?”
He’s asked me that before. When he took me in public at the Queen’s Bath. And just like that day, my answer is immediate. “Yes.”
His hands cup my breasts, and he starts massaging them, running his calloused palms over my stiffening nipples. “I want you naked and wet and getting fucked right here in front of this window. I want you to be so loud that the people walking their dogs or heading home from the bars know it’s me who’s doing that to you.”
“Then you better make it good for me.”
He smirks and nips at my neck but almost immediately the kisses turn tender and reverent, his touch following suit. “You’re so beautiful you make my chest ache,” he whispers against my skin. “All fucking mine, Tinsley Monroe. You’re all fucking mine.”
The dress ends up at my feet, and I kick it away as Stone takes a step back, his eyes molten as he rakes in my naked body.
“Rub your pussy, baby girl,” he orders. “Get her nice and wet for me. Raise your left hand on the glass. I want to see my ring on your hand as you stand naked in my window.”
My left hand slides higher up the glass, while my right slides down the front of my body and in between my legs. I dip my middle finger inside me and spread my wetness up to my clit. He licks his lips as if he can taste me, and I play with myself in front of a window high above Boston while I watch his reflection as he starts to undress. His bowtie gets undone first and hangs loosely around his neck as he works the buttons on his shirt before he pulls it over his broad shoulders revealing smooth skin, colorful ink, and stacked muscles.
“You’re staring awfully hard, little Rose.”
“I like what I see.”
“I like what I see too. Does that feel good?”
“Your fingers feel better, sir.” I smirk, and he follows suit.
I turn and press my ass and back into the cold glass as I continue to rub my clit in circles that make my skin tingle with electricity. I have no idea if anyone can see into these windows. We’re sixteen stories up but knowing Stone and how protective and careful he is with me—not to mention the fact that he’s a Fritz—I’d bet money they’re tinted.
“I didn’t give you permission to turn around.”
“I want to see my tattoo. Please, sir.”
The most breathtaking smile hits his lips. It’s almost shy. Almost.
His pants slip to the floor, and he toes them off along with his socks and shoes. In only his briefs, he beckons me with a crook of his finger, and because I’m feeling naughty and in love and overwhelmed by absolutely everything and I know it will drive him crazy, I drop to my hands and knees and crawl toward him.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his eyes going wide and unblinking. His hands rake back through his hair. “Jesus, Tinsley. You know how to make a man putty in your hands. Crawl right onto my lap, baby girl.” Step by step, he moves backward toward his bed until his knees hit the mattress and he sits.
His hands are trembling, and I hold in my self-satisfied smirk. When I reach him, I climb up his thighs until I’m straddling him. Automatically, his hands meet my waist, and I stare into his eyes as I dip down and kiss him. Slowly I start to roll on him, grinding ever so softly along his hard cock, still hidden beneath his briefs.
He cups my face, pressing his lips harder to mine, and I force him back, going with him until we’re chest to chest, lying horizontally on his bed.
“Roll over,” I murmur against his lips.
“You want to be in charge tonight?”
I grin. “I definitely want to be in charge tonight.”
Without another word or any protest, he rolls onto his stomach, and I shift so I can pull down his briefs. I want him as naked as I am. Then I’m back to straddling him, only now it’s his firm ass that’s between my thighs. Immediately I go for my tattoo. A hand plants into the bed to hold myself up, and I kiss his skin.
He grunts and then groans, “I can feel how wet you are. It’s killing me that I can’t turn over and thrust up into you.”
I roll my hips on his ass, rubbing my clit on his right cheek. “Mmm. That feels good.”
“My naughty little tease.”
“Shhh. I’m exploring.” My fingers and lips trickle along his skin, and I savor the way his breath hitches and his muscles quiver.
“Can you make yourself come like that?”
Good question. “Would you like me to try?”
“I can’t see you like this. I want to see your pretty face when you come.”
I glide my hips back and forth, rubbing my clit and my pussy on him. Kissing and smelling his skin as I get wetter and wetter. His hands fist the blanket, and I know he’s struggling not to take charge. He’s letting me have this, and it only makes me love him more.
“Little rose.” His voice is shredded.
“Beg me,” I whisper into his ear.
I catch the corner of his smile as he says, “Please let me turn over. Please let me watch you come.”
“Good boy.”
He chokes out a laugh. “But what if I want to be bad?”
“Tough choice. I’ll think about it. Roll over and make me come.”
He doesn’t have to be told twice. I’m on my back with him above me, his knees on the mattress, and his forearm beside my head. His mouth captures mine as his free hand slides up between my thighs. Our foreheads press as he slips two fingers inside me and starts to pump with deliciously aching slowness. I close my eyes and get lost in the way he feels, in the way he touches me.
He steals kisses, his tongue a devouring force, only to pull back so he can watch me. My eyes are still closed, but I feel him all over me. His thumb works my clit, and I draw my knees up and out, opening myself up more for him.
He’s quiet, breathing heavily as he increases his pace, finger fucking me in earnest, pushing me to come and come hard. I reach up and grab his shoulders, holding on, and getting close.
“Stone.”
“I’m here, little Rose. You feel me? I’m here.” His fingers slip away only to immediately replace them with his cock. He doesn’t thrust inside me. Instead, he glides his cock up and down my pussy, making sure his barbell hits my clit with every upward motion.
My eyes snap open, and my chin drops.
“Does that feel good?” I ask, mesmerized by the sight of him against my pussy.
“So fucking good. Nothing has ever felt better than you.”
His lips take mine, and he kisses me deeply, our tongues dancing and twirling as he swallows my gasps and moans. I try to hold off. I try to keep this going. It’s impossible. My orgasm barrels into me, and I cry out, clutching him as I spasm and shake and grind myself against the head of his cock and that piece of metal that might be the best piece of metal ever.
With a simple move of his hips, and before I fully come down from my high, he slides inside of me with a low groan. His body drops down, and he covers me, kissing my neck, my jaw, my cheeks, my nose, my lips. His weight on me, the way he smells, and the sounds he makes, I’ll never grow tired of him.
Nothing we do will ever feel conventional or boring.
“I love you,” he rasps, his voice hoarse.
“I love you,” I manage, holding onto his broad shoulders, my hand over my tattoo, feeling every muscle bunch and flex as he moves over and in me. He continues to kiss me as he takes me, making sure I feel every inch of him, savoring every inch of me.
He starts to speed up, both of us breathless with sweat sticking to our skin and making us slippery and tacky. We cling and breathe and kiss and pant and get lost in each other until there is no him or me, it’s only us.
His face buries in my neck, and he starts to move faster, pounding up into me, and driving me to the point of insanity. He hikes my leg higher up his waist, pivoting his hip, driving in deeper, as deep as he can go, until I shatter around him, calling out his name, and going even higher when I feel his cock thicken inside me right before he starts to come.
His body stills and he squeezes me tighter as his low groans vibrate against my neck.
I hold him, cradling him against me. After a few minutes, we get up, shower, brush our teeth, and climb back into bed naked and wrapped around each other. And that’s how we fall asleep. As one.
33
“Do you want to go out for brunch?” I ask Tinsley as I finish rinsing the shampoo out of my hair.
“Brunch?”
“Yeah, you know, breakfast and lunch combined make brunch.”
“Thanks for that,” she deadpans. “The word I was actually more focused on was out.”
I bend down and suck her nipple into my mouth, dragging it out with my teeth. I have a problem. A serious problem. It’s no joke. I have a real and living fear that I might never be able to get enough of her. I just fucked her not even five minutes ago, and I’m already getting hard again.
“I got a text from Vander. A bunch of people are meeting at my cousin Stella’s restaurant in about an hour.”
Her stomach grumbles, and I chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes?”
She smacks my shoulder. “Shut up. I can’t help it if I have a very vocal stomach.”
“Everything on you is very vocal, and I wouldn’t have you any other way. But for real, do you want to go?”
“Can I bring Loomis?”
I work my way up her neck, and she pushes me away so she can condition her hair.
“Sure, but can I ask you something about him?”
She squints an eye open to me as she works the conditioner through her long, dark hair. “What?” she asks warily.
“He likes women, right?”
She laughs. “Yes, he likes women. Why do you ask?”
“You guys spend a ton of time together. I don’t get it.”
“Have you ever had any attraction toward Katy?”
My face curls up in disgust. “Fuck no. But I grew up with Katy as more or less my cousin. Her stepmom, Layla, is my uncle Oliver’s stepdaughter. It’s convoluted, but that’s what she is to us.”
She shrugs. “Loomis is like Katy to me, and I’m like Katy to him. We love each other and have insane chemistry on screen, but there is no sexual spark or desire between us. There never has been.”
“You have no idea how jealous I was of him.”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “You have no idea how jealous I was of all your miscellaneous women. It seems we both fooled the other because you didn’t have any and I was never with Loomis.”
I kiss her lips, brushing some of the wet strands from her face when her stomach growls again.
I laugh and kiss my spot on her shoulder. “Let’s go feed you.”
An hour later, we walk into Stella’s. Kenna waves us over, and we greet everyone and take our seats. Stella pulled up three tables in the back room to accommodate all of us and also to give us privacy. After we order, I get up to go into the kitchen and say hi. I haven’t seen Stella in a while since she’s always here and I’m always at the hospital.
She and Layla used to babysit me a lot as a kid, which is likely another reason I consider Katy my cousin. But Stella also catered the event last night, and not only was the food outstanding, but her staff did an incredible job, and I want to thank her since she donated all of that.
I swing open the kitchen door and pop my head in. It’s all hustle and bustle back here since the restaurant is packed on this Sunday.
“Stella?” I call out, but shockingly enough, my parents intercept me.
“She had to run over to Bongay to deliver something,” my mother informs me. “She should be back soon. What are you doing here?” Bongay is one of Stella’s other restaurants, and it’s just as popular as this one.
“A bunch of us are having brunch in the back room. What are you doing hanging out in the kitchen?”
“We just finished brunch but wanted to thank her again for last night.”
I grin. “That’s what I’m back here to do.”
My mother takes my hand and leads me out of the kitchen, over to a quiet corner of the restaurant. “I’m glad I ran into you. Did you hear what the preliminary numbers are from last night?”
I shake my head. “No. Tell me.”
She can’t contain her smile, her brown eyes glittering. “Somewhere around one point eight million.”
My eyes bulge. “Are you serious?” I look from her to my father and then back. “That’s insane.”
“People came out big last night for the event.”
“Your grandparents donated a hefty chunk for it too,” my father follows up.
I cover my mouth with my hand and shake my head incredulously. “That’s gonna cost me.” I laugh. I have this thing where I match whatever the total amount raised from the gala is. Last year, it was half that amount. “Wow. I’m floored. And so grateful.” I lean in, kiss my mother’s cheek, and hug her. “Thank you for all of your hard work on this.”
“You did all the hard work, Stone,” she says, pride all over her face. “I simply helped put together a gala. One that’s being talked about everywhere, not just in Boston, so don’t be surprised if you start getting more donations.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
My dad rolls his eyes at me and folds his arms. “You know we’re not stupid, right? You can talk to us about this. Even tell us the truth.”
It feels like I just swallowed a bug. I’ve hated lying to my parents, but it seems, like my grandmother, they too know the truth. Which gives me worry. Everyone seems to be figuring out the truth, but that truth comes at a price. Especially with my parents.
