Spring Romance: NINE Happily Ever Afters

by Tessa Bailey

  There was no mistaking the pleasure gripping me more intensely than Royce’s hold on my breast. The board members murmured encouragement and praise, but I couldn’t discern it over the buzzing in my ears.

  The orgasm lasted longer than any I’d ever had. It seemed to go on forever.

  As the satisfaction crested and began to fade, I collapsed back onto the table, my shoulders slapping against the wood. I drew huge swallows in while Royce rose deliberately from his throne and cast his gaze down on me.

  My stomach clenched as he slipped the fingers he’d used to fuck me with into his mouth, closed his lips, and sucked my taste from them. He watched me the whole time he did it, his eyes flaring with unsated desire.

  Jesus.

  It looked like he’d wasn’t quite done enjoying me and his carnal eyes made promises. Next time, he’d have me exactly the way he wanted, and without a time limit. He’d warned me in the back seat of my Porsche that once he got inside me, he might never leave, and I knew we were about to find out if it was true.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Royce’s hurried fingers went to the black silk tied at his neck. He stared at me with the same hungry desire he shown in the department store mirror, only this was magnified a thousand percent.

  I wanted him to hurry but didn’t need to say it out loud. He could tell. He practically ripped the silk tie off, jerking it through his collar before hurling it at the chair. Next came the jacket. He shrugged out of it, revealing black braces beneath, and tossed it in the general direction of his discarded bowtie. When it missed, one of the board members released me, moved to pick it up, and hung it neatly on the chair back.

  Royce peeled off one suspender and then the other, and all his urgency fed into his stare. His deadly serious gaze pressed down on me, ensnaring me far more than the men surrounding me.

  He moved with methodical precision to undo the line of black buttons down the front of his pleated white tuxedo shirt, untucking it from his pants as he went. I got flashes of his strong chest and trim waist as it opened, but then his fingers were at the button at his waistband, working to undo it, and my nerves took over.

  It was almost laughable I was still nervous, given what I’d just been through, but I couldn’t control it. My heart beat out a skittering song as he tore down his zipper.

  He abandoned his undone pants for a moment and scooped his hands under my thighs, dragging my body right to the edge of the table and forcing the men around us to adjust their grip.

  There was electricity between us, strong and powerful. Did he feel it too? His crystal-clear eyes trapped mine, and my heart swelled. Oh, yes. He was right there with me.

  He hooked his thumbs into the band of his underwear and bent slightly, dragging them and his pants down until they were stretched across his thighs, halfway down his legs. His dick was hard and ready, and now that it was in view, the realness of what was about to happen seized me.

  If I could have picked any other way for my first time, I would have. But as I stared at his handsome face, his eyes struggling between guilt and lust, I felt confident I wouldn’t have picked anyone else to be with.

  All the men seemed to be holding their breath. The room had gone so quiet and still, it felt like Royce and I were alone.

  He leaned over and put a hand flat on the table beside my head, bringing him so he was only inches from my lips. Our warm, bare stomachs pressed together and—shit—that felt nice. His questioning gaze explored my face. It searched my eyes, caressed forehead, and landed on my lips. He studied them like he expected secrets to spill from them at any moment.

  “Are you sure?” he whispered.

  I inhaled a deep, preparing breath.

  And nodded.

  He kept his hand beside my head but straightened, rising up on it. The guilt that had colored his expression was pushed out of the way and determination took over. His other hand slipped between our bodies, and the naked tip of his cock brushed over me.

  It was a velvety stroke through my wetness, but it had me clenching so tight, my fingernails dug into my palms. If I opened my hands right now, there’d be little half-moon indentations there.

  “Relax,” Macalister urged.

  I jerked at the intrusion of his voice. He’d moved to stand at the side of the table, probably so he could have a better view.

  I focused on the only man I wanted to be with. Royce’s chest lifted and fell with his uneven breaths, and it was so sexy. He looked classically beautiful, the way Hermes was often depicted in marble statues.

  The second time he teased himself over me, I didn’t flinch. I held perfectly still as the head of his dick found my entrance and began to push inside.

  My eyes widened, and I sucked in a breath through tight teeth. I was soaking wet, but no amount of preparation could truly make me ready. The stretch grew more uncomfortable the further he went. Deeper he invaded, not stopping, and my body did not want to surrender to him.

  His steady, slow press into me was too much. I was too full.

  It ached between my legs. It wasn’t a sharp pain, but a throb of discomfort. My back bowed off of the wood, and I groaned. My face contorted with displeasure. I wanted to flee, but the men were there, and the words wouldn’t come from my tongue. My mind held them back, forcing me to just wait.

  Wait for me.

  Royce’s lips parted on a soft, pleasure filled sigh. His head dropped for a moment, as if regrouping, and his gaze found mine again. His intense stare centered me so the cautious withdraw of his body from mine was . . . different. Not unpleasant. I softened back into the table.

  When he finished his retreat, he started his next advance. Still gentle, but this time, quicker. The stretch of him sliding into me was less uncomfortable.

  “Okay?” he asked, hushed.

  “Yeah,” I whispered back.

  Tension had made his shoulders tight, but they relaxed a degree on my answer. The fullness of him moving inside me remained, but as he eased his hips into me, the ache dulled. It faded enough until it was merely noticeable.

  As I became more pliable beneath him, Royce hesitantly loosened the restraint he’d put on himself. His movements became thrusts. They turned harder and went deeper.

  The arm he’d been supporting himself with moved. His hand cupped my shoulder and slid up the curve of my neck, drawing goosebumps. I stretched as best I could into his touch, even as he continued to carve a path. His palm cradled the side of my face, tilting my head back and his thumb swept over my lips, where I pulled in ragged breaths.

  As his thrusts increased, the atmosphere in the room rapidly degraded from composed and collected to frenzied and desperate.

  He bent down, looming over me so his lips hovered just over my uplifted chin, teasing a kiss with his hot breath. His restless hand kept moving. He dragged it down until it rested on my throat, holding me back from receiving the kiss I wanted.

  Maybe it wasn’t allowed.

  Or perhaps he didn’t want anyone else to witness it.

  Our choked breaths and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. He fucked me hard enough the table creaked and groaned in protest.

  “You feel so . . . fucking . . . good.”

  Royce’s comment set my face on fire and satisfaction clenched deep inside me. I moaned, long and loud, and something inside him seemed to break. He snapped upright, his palm sliding to the center of my chest, his fingers splayed between my breasts.

  He’d told me he would make it quick, and I sensed that was now his goal. This version of him was raw and basic. He became a man fucking for his pleasure, a slave to satisfying his own instinctive, primal urge.

  His furious tempo gave me a hint of what was in store for me later, and I liked it. I wasn’t going to follow him over the edge, but this? Watching and listening to him? It was deeply satisfying.

  I’d never seen him come before, and he did not disappoint.

  As his eyes slammed shut and his face contorted with pleasure, h
is movements went jerky and erratic. A great, satisfied groan burst from him. His fingers on my chest curled in, raking across my skin. And inside my body, there were rhythmic pulses, filling me with heat.

  He gasped for air and stilled, letting the orgasm pass on long, labored breaths.

  The board members’ hands released me and drew away, leaving only Royce touching me. His palm was on my chest and there was still the connection of our bodies, and I sighed in contentment, happy for it to be just us.

  He lingered longer than he probably should have because Macalister strolled to the chair and plucked the coat off of it. The heat of Royce was gone as he retreated and hurried to pull up his pants. He took the offered coat from his father, opened it, and laid it over my body. He covered me, and his action was almost tender.

  The silk lining felt decadent against my sensitized skin.

  “Congratulations.” It wasn’t clear for whom Macalister meant it. He adjusted the way his tuxedo sat on his shoulders, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. “We’ll leave you two to get sorted. Don’t keep your guests waiting too long. I’m sure most have already arrived, and I’d like to make our entrance soon.”

  Dismissed, the board shuffled toward the door, some of them adjusting their dicks in their pants as they filed past the table. Macalister was the last to go, waiting for something.

  It was privacy. He cast a harsh look at his son. “Jesus, Royce.” His tone was scathing. “Next time try to last longer than a minute. She’s supposed to enjoy it, but not if you don’t give her a chance.”

  A muscle flexed along Royce’s jaw and he bit the word out. “Noted.”

  Macalister released a frustrated sigh, and although I kept my focus squarely on Royce, I felt his father’s gaze stroke over me before he turned and went.

  The click of the door closing flipped the switch on Royce, activating the other side of him. He launched over me, his hands cradling my head. “Are you all right?”

  I opened my mouth, but the words lodged in my throat. His semen was dripping out of me between my legs, and the sensation was weird.

  “Marist.” Worry turned his eyes a stormy blue. “Fuck, please say something.”

  My voice was almost silent. “I don’t want to live here.”

  He sighed with relief and dropped his head into the crook of my neck. “You are amazing. You know that? Ever since you made the deal, I’ve fucking tried to get us out of this. Every day, I tried. I even went to the board, but they wouldn’t vote against my father.”

  I was verging on overload and tears stung my eyes.

  “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I should have said no. At the very least, I should have told you.”

  That was true. However, Macalister had said I was an equal and my opinion mattered, but only if I expressed it. And I couldn’t deal with anything right now. The shock was still in my system, numbing me from processing it. I only knew what I needed right this second.

  “Would you just shut up?” I pleaded. “And fucking kiss me?”

  Surprise rippled through him and was gone in a flash. He crushed his lips to mine, and his kiss was all-consuming. I was grateful not to be standing when he gave it to me because I went softer than the melted wax puddling on the drip catchers of the candelabras.

  He pulled his coat away, not wanting anything between us. His bare chest was tacky with sweat like mine, and I enjoyed how our skin clung to each other. Like every part of me wanted to be connected to him. He planted kisses against my lips and dipped his tongue into my mouth, coaxing me to slide mine against his. It was exactly the kind of kiss I’d craved when he’d first pushed inside my body.

  Better late than never.

  The kiss ended slowly and reluctantly. We both wanted more, but knew time was running out.

  “You didn’t answer me,” he said softly, pulling me up in his arms until I was sitting. “Are you okay?”

  I honestly didn’t know. My emotions were on lockdown, so nothing was getting in or out. “I think so.” I climbed to stand on my unsteady legs. “What about you?”

  “Me?” He considered it with a dubious expression. “I’m sure it’s nothing a few decades of very expensive therapy can’t fix.”

  I wanted to laugh, except I didn’t find it particularly funny.

  He grabbed his coat and dug around in the interior pocket, producing a stack of tissues. My breath clung, sticky in my throat, as he gently wiped one between my legs, cleaning up the mess. It was oddly caring, yet sexual at the same time.

  He disposed of the tissues as I stood naked next to the table, one hand on it to support myself. When he came back to me, he picked up my underwear and attempted to help me put it on, but I shooed his hands away. It’d be faster if I did it. We dressed ourselves quickly and quietly, him buttoning and redoing his bowtie and me pulling the heavy dress back on.

  “I need your help,” I said softly, turning to show him the unlaced dress.

  “Of course.”

  The act of him lacing the corset? It was infinitely more sensual and intimate than when he’d helped me take it off. His knuckles brushed over my back, and I suspected most of the time it was intentional. Which was silly.

  “I’m yours, Royce,” I whispered. “You can touch me whenever you’d like.”

  He set his hands on me, halfway between my shoulders and my neck, and eased me back against him. His solid chest at my back was comforting, and he used his hands to angle my head to the side. It made room for him to drop his head and nuzzle a kiss into the side of my neck.

  It must have given him a reminder. He stepped away and went to the black box on the buffet table, retrieving my great-grandmother’s necklace. Or, my necklace now.

  I shook my head. “Your father said it was too much.”

  “I say it’s not.” He gave me a knowing look. “Which one of us would you like to disappoint?”

  Oh. I smiled in understanding. Like the cat his father hated, this necklace was a small act of defiance, and I wholeheartedly approved.

  * * *

  Rather than go out into the entryway like the board had done, Royce unlocked the door leading to the enormous kitchen and ushered me through. It was bustling with the catering crew who ignored us. Alice had been lying in wait. She ambushed us, grabbed my wrist, and tugged me toward her while firing a glare at Royce.

  “Leave us,” she said to him without a hint of warmth.

  Her curt tone surprised us both, but he nodded. “I’ll be in the hall when you’re ready,” he said.

  We watched him go, and then she focused in on me. “I needed to see if you’re all right,” she said softly. “I mean, to make sure everything is okay,” she drew the words out, “with your hair and makeup.”

  My gaze dropped down to her hand still clinging to my wrist, and I understood the subtext. She was concerned about me. Her clipped tone to Royce was her being protective.

  I gave her the best smile I could manage. “Yes. I think I’m okay.”

  “Good.” She looked relieved, but her grip on my wrist tightened. “It’s over now. You don’t talk about what happened, not with me or anyone else. It stays in that room. You understand. Some people might find it . . . upsetting.”

  I would think so. Like, maybe the board member’s wives. How was she okay with this? I wanted to ask her a million questions. And I wanted to tell her how her husband hadn’t participated in the initiation, but I couldn’t.

  “I understand,” I said.

  “Good.” She released me and scrutinized my face. It was impossible to tell if she was checking my mental state, or if my makeup needed a touch-up. Her voice went low. “The last thing I’ll say is no one was waiting for me in the kitchen afterward, and I did not handle it as well as you seem to be.”

  “Oh.” My heart ached for her.

  “When the time comes, I hope you’ll be there for whichever girl Vance chooses.”

  I went still. Several thoughts ran through my head, and the selfish one was the loudest. Royce was
a board member now. Would he be one of the men to ‘show his gratitude’ to the next woman the board wanted to approve?

  I couldn’t think about it. One ordeal at a time, and right now I was facing down a party with a guest list of five hundred people, most of whom I’d have to talk to. The next five hours or so I’d have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t, and that was going to take all my remaining energy.

  Alice seemed satisfied when I nodded, but then she gave me a final discerning look, her gaze trailing over my necklace. “Luc is in the hall. Go see him about fixing your lipstick.”

  * * *

  Royce clasped my hand in his as we assembled with the rest of the Hales in the sun room at the back of the house, waiting to make our announced entrance. Macalister’s gaze landed on the diamonds draped around my neck and his lips went thin, but he said nothing. I squeezed tighter beside Royce, our joined hands buried in the folds of my skirt.

  Vance didn’t have a date. When he got the nod from the event coordinator perched at the door, he flashed a carefree smile and went out. We heard the announcement and the smattering of applause, like he’d done something worthy of it rather than simply being born.

  Alice took Macalister’s arm and lined up in front of us, but not before glancing over her shoulder at me. “Remember to smile with your eyes, Marist.”

  I let out a tight breath when they stepped out onto the stone balcony and headed for the party, which was already fifteen minutes into the cocktail hour.

  Royce squeezed my hand. “When we get out there, we’ll do a round and then you can go find your family.” His smile was sort of sweet. “Don’t run off on me or anything, but if you need some time to get away, I get it. I have to mingle with some old board members, and you probably don’t want to be around for that.”

  “No,” I said.

  “Have you been in the maze?”

  I stumbled at his question. “The hedge maze? Not in years.”

  “It’s closed tonight because alcohol and disorienting mazes aren’t a great combination. But,” his tone turned smooth, “since I have special privileges tonight, you’ll meet me at the fountain in the center in forty-five minutes.”