Private Engagement

by Adrienne Perry

  When he reached the waist of her pants, he eased back enough to pull them off, along with her panties, in a single move. When he returned his mouth to her body, he settled it directly on the skin of her inner thigh. Now naked, Emily could feel her own wetness and the scent of her arousal was thick in the air. She was totally bare and exposed, something that probably would have made her feel embarrassed before. But here, now, she felt nothing but her own power. Ethan urged her legs open wider, and she complied. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, but Ethan’s voice called to her.

  “Open your eyes. I want you to watch this. Me. I want you to see how delicious you are to me.”

  Though she felt her power, this was definitely outside of Emily’s comfort zone, and she wanted to refuse. But she dared herself to look, and saw the desire and love in Ethan’s eyes before he buried his face between her legs. He kissed her pussy lips and her inner thighs while Emily writhed under him, desperately wanting him to touch the one place he was avoiding. His mouth was both pure pleasure and pure torture. Her clit was pounding, and she knew her pussy was dripping wet. Yet he still avoided giving her the satisfaction she craved. Finally, when she thought she might have to reach her own hand between her legs and end it herself, he put a hand on her belly and spoke.

  “Look at me, Emily. Right now. I’m going to taste you now, and I want you to watch.”

  She looked back down at him, and with his eyes on hers, his tongue darted out and brushed her clit. Emily moaned and pressed into his mouth. Her head fell back.

  “Eyes on me, Emily,” Ethan demanded, so she forced herself to look at him again. He held eye contact with her as his tongue brushed her again, once, twice, before he sucked it deep into his mouth. Emily fought the urge to squeeze her eyes shut as she hovered on the edge of climax. But Ethan wasn’t quite ready to give it to her. He pulled back, kissing all around her clit, but not touching it. When Emily moaned in frustration, Ethan chuckled.

  “Tell me what you want, Em. Tell me how bad you need it.”

  “Fuck, Ethan. Please.”

  “Please what? Say it.”

  “Please, lick me. God, just do it.”

  “Here?” Ethan licked at her inner thigh again, and Emily groaned.

  “No, you know where.”

  “Yes, but I want you to say it. Do you know how fucking hot you are when you talk dirty?”

  “My pussy. My clit. I want you to lick me all over. Please, Ethan,” Emily begged. She could feel his smile on her thigh.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “But don’t close your eyes. And don’t look away.”

  “Okay,” Emily promised, and looked down. Ethan returned his head to between her legs, eyes looking up at her, and sucked at her pussy while sliding two fingers along the sides of her clit. His tongue lapped up her juices, and Emily felt the orgasm building.

  “God, yes. Now, Ethan, please,” she urged, her hips thrusting her core into his face. She was delirious with desire and desperate for the climax.

  Ethan responded by moving his tongue up to her clit, and thrust the fingers that had been teasing her deep into her pussy. As the orgasm shook through Emily’s body, Ethan sucked her clit and worked her pussy with his fingers until the shuddering convulsions that wracked Emily’s body finally subsided.

  Ethan moved up her body to kiss her, and she tasted herself on his lips. Even as the last tremors still quaked through her, Emily reached down to rub Ethan’s arousal through his pants.

  “You have way too many clothes on,” she murmured. “We definitely need to fix that.”

  She sat up and tugged at Ethan’s shirt, pulling it over his head. But when she tried to unbuckle his belt, her fingers were too shaky and clumsy to manage.

  Finally, “You do it,” she ordered, and in seconds, Ethan had shed his remaining clothes, revealing his glorious, naked body. Emily ran her hands over his chest, skimming his nipples and smiling at his gasp, before taking his throbbing cock in her hand. At that, Ethan groaned, and his eyes drifted shut.

  “Keep them open,” she ordered, an echo to his earlier command.

  He complied, and watched as she stroked him.

  “Mmmm,” she purred. “Hard as steel and yet soft as silk. How is that possible?” She squeezed him gently.

  In one swift movement, Ethan had her on her back again on the bed, his body poised above her. He nudged her thighs apart, and Emily opened for him, winding her legs around his waist. He teased the opening of her pussy with his cock, holding back when Emily tried to push into him.

  Emily grabbed his ass with both hands and drew him to her. It was all the encouragement Ethan needed. He drove into her, filling every void she’d ever felt. She lifted herself to him, taking him in as deeply as she could. She wanted fast, but when he moved in her, it was slow, deliberate. He was giving her time to recover and build back up, though she didn’t need it. She tried to force him to go faster, but he kept the pace measured and unhurried. She could tell it was hard on him, too—beads of sweat glinted on his forehead as he forced himself to hold back. His mouth covered hers, his tongue dancing with hers to a slow, sweet melody. His hands caressed her breasts and her nipples with the same leisurely pace as the rest of his body.

  When Ethan finally let their tempo increase, Emily’s body responded with prefect timing. Together they build up to a climax that grew slowly, but with an intensity that Emily had never experienced before.

  Later, sated, they lay in her bed together. Emily felt calm and safe and treasured. He’d told her he loved her with his words, and then he’d told her with his body. She’d never felt more secure or cherished in her life. This was the life she’d been waiting for before she even knew she wanted it.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Six Weeks Later

  Though the local meteorologists had been predicting rain all week, the last Saturday in May dawned sunny and clear. Even the weather wouldn’t dare ruin Charlotte West’s wedding day. This would be the South Carolina society event of the year.

  Three hundred of Greenville’s finest attended the occasion. The society matrons, with their expensive floral print dresses buttoned up high and falling below the knee, the glitzy and glamourous contemporaries of Charlotte, some genuinely lovely women, and some catty bitches who talked behind their backs about each other. Shelly, notably, had not shown, for reasons unknown.

  Greenville, with all its Southern charm, was also known for its harsh, judgmental nature as everyone vied to be the top bird, secretly hoping for some scandal that would knock the leader from the top, making room for someone else to move up.

  This wedding could have been the perfect event for such judgments, and yet no one cast a second glance at the very noticeable belly straining against the white silk dress of the bride. Nor did anyone comment that the groom was someone no one had seen before. And it wasn’t mentioned that Vivienne’s ex-fiancé was in prison, or noted how much younger than Vivienne her date for the event seemed to be. In fact, the old matrons simply clucked about how beautiful everything was, though the chicken was a bit chewy, and the cake a touch dry.

  Also, no one said a word if they noticed that the man to whom Charlotte had been engaged for the past two months was slipping his hand up her wedding planner’s dress.

  No one said anything about any of that. Instead, they counted their blessings that they’d been invited to such a prestigious event, and they all wondered how they could manage to get Ever After Events to plan their next soiree, or coming out party, or afternoon tea. The location, the sweet little storefront with mismatched china and comfortable chairs felt more like someone’s living room than a business, and clients were treated more like family than customers. Every woman who went to Ever After felt like she was the center of the universe. Because the woman behind it, Emily Hunter, was a genius at what she did.

  Tonight, she had created such a magical, beautiful evening that no one cared that the bride was pregnant, or the fiancé had been replaced by someone new. Bits of the sto
ry had leaked, of course, and the most tantalizing pieces were about the heroic efforts of the wedding planner to help put the swindler Gaines behind bars. If she was willing to go to those lengths for her clients, she’d be the one who could find lily of the valley in August, create a seating chart that kept the peace at a wedding where both the bride and groom’s parents and grandparents (all four sets) were divorced and remarried, and make other miracles happen.

  Emily herself was happy. Truly, madly deeply happy. Today was beautiful, perfect, even. The bride, Charlotte, had never looked more radiant, and Jonas was completely besotted. Despite the throngs of well-wishers, the two had eyes for no one but each other.

  Emily smiled. Of everyone here, she realized that Charlotte wasn’t noticing any of it. Not the food, or the wine, or the fairy lights twinkling above her. For Charlotte, tonight was all about Jonas, and their first time being able to love each other in public. Tonight truly was a start for them. The planning had been something else, but Charlotte and Jonas just wanted the day after to begin, their lives to settle in to the mundane every day. For the first time, Emily believed that the Ever After was on their minds, not the Wedding Day.

  Except, that wasn’t quite true. It wasn’t the first time she’d believed that. She twisted the gold band circling the ring finger of her left hand. She held out her hand, and watched the lights form above sprinkle down and glisten on the shiny metal. A delicate pattern of vines, braided together, was discretely etched along the gleaming gold, symbolizing the intertwining of her life with Ethan’s. She’d finally allowed her life, and her heart, to become woven with someone else, and she couldn’t imagine it any other way. As she admired the shine, she felt an arm wind around her waist and pull her tightly against a strong, male body.

  “You’d better watch out,” she cautioned the arm, “or my husband will see.”

  “Let him,” came a growly response at her ear. Just two words, spoken in Ethan’s low, sexy timber, sent shivers down her arms and straight to the core of her.

  Emily smiled and relaxed into his embrace.

  “I’ll just have to drag you out of here now, before your husband catches us,” Ethan murmured.

  “I can’t leave yet. I’m working.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be missed.” Sure enough, Charlotte and Jonas were sneaking off themselves. The caterers were busy checking with Troy, who had insisted that Emily show up as a guest tonight, and not as the wedding planner. She’d complied, though it was hard to let go.

  Letting go was getting easier. When she’d seen the sign come down in her beloved storefront, she’d mourned it, but then shook it off and had begun to look for something new. Though the whole time she’d been focused on that one place, it was only through losing it that she realized that though it had been close to perfect, it was, in the end, just a place. It would be her touch, her imagination, her drive that turned in into the business of her dreams. The store was just the place. She would be its heart.

  She’d let go of her reservations about becoming part of a couple, she’d let go of her fears of being left behind. She’d given those up so she could grab on to the promise of a life together with Ethan. She let go so she could accept his love for the gift that it was. She’d gone to him, humbled, and vulnerable, and scared, and he’d gathered her in and sworn to protect her, to love her. She’d let go of her baggage so her heart could open.

  When the letter from the rental agency arrived a few days after the arrest of Gaines, with a lease for the storefront in her name, she’d known instinctively that Ethan had done it. Without him ever asking, he’d known how important it was to her, just as he’d known she needed a push to take the step. He helped her to take the steps that allowed her life become fulfilled.

  It hadn’t been perfect; it hadn’t always been smooth. Emily had, at first, taken umbrage that he’d rented the store for her, had felt as if he’d done it because he didn’t think she could. But when she would have run, instead she stayed, and they explained their perspectives.

  Their lives together wouldn’t be perfect, wouldn’t always be smooth, but they could remain perfect for each other.

  When he’d asked her to marry him, she hadn’t wanted the emerald ring. He’d already given it to someone else, after all, even if that hadn’t been for real. She’d selected the band she wore now, watching as he’d slid it onto her finger in a simple service surrounded by only their closest friends and family. The ceremony had been intimate and sweet, and filled with laughter and fun and the understanding that the day wasn’t just about the wedding. It was also about the forever after.

  It was perfect, and it was just the beginning.

  *****

  The End

  About the Author

  Adrienne Perry writes contemporary erotic romance with plenty of heat and humor. When she’s not writing fiction, she is a professional science writer and in her spare time she likes to warp young minds (but only those of her own children and sometimes her nieces and nephew).

  For more information about Adrienne and her two real-life sisters, who also write romance novels visit http://graffitifiction.com.

  Follow Adrienne here:

  https://www.facebook.com/AdriennePerryAuthor

  amazon.com/author/adrienneperry/

  Also from Adrienne Perry

  The Price of Love

  Abby is content in her stable, if slightly boring life, when an erotic encounter with a stranger in a nightclub shakes up her predicable existence. Abby believes her memories of their sexy meeting will provide the fuel for her private fantasies, until he shows up in person, as her new boss! Not only that, she learns he is also media mogul Carter Price of Price Publishing.

  Abby struggles to remain professional, but can’t deny her attraction to him. And it seems he feels the same way. But as her desire for him grows, so do her suspicions about his mysterious travels and days of silence. Should she trust her instincts and open herself to love, or is he hiding a secret that will keep them apart forever?

  Enjoy this Excerpt from “The Price of Love”:

  The quiet was a relief. Abby sighed and let her shoulders slump in the sudden silence. She hated to admit it, but she was disappointed that The Suit had left with another woman. While he was there, the potential for something to happen existed. That potential heightened her senses and spawned an excitement in her that she didn’t feel often enough. She thought about the way his eyes had traveled over her body, and how they’d lingered on her chest. Just the memory of his gaze made her nipples hard again. She closed her eyes, and let her hand drift over her breast, gently brushing her erect nipple, thrilled by the feeling of recklessness that was suddenly bubbling inside her. She passed her hand over the tip again, a little harder this time, arching her back into the touch, imagining it was his hand caressing her instead of her own.

  She knew he was going to feed her fantasies for a long time, even as she knew that the fantasies would be only a meagre substitution for the real thing. For once, she was willing to admit Leah was right. Her vibrator would never be able to create the intensity of feeling a simple glance from The Suit had caused. Once more, she brought her hand to her breast, this time gently pressing her nipple between her thumb and index finger, moaning softly as she pictured The Suit’s fingers on her breast.

  “I’m not accustomed to being this irrelevant to a woman’s pleasure,” came a deep voice from behind her.

  Abby shrieked and spun around, gasping in shock and embarrassment as she focused on the object of her fantasy. The Suit had silently entered the room, which suddenly seemed a thousand times smaller than it had a second ago. He was leaning casually against the bathroom door, his legs crossed at the ankles, hands in his pockets. Self-confident, borderline-haughty amusement shone in his eyes.

  “Please, don’t let me interrupt your…freshening up,” he continued.

  Abby struggled to find both breath and words, as she fought unsuccessfully to erase the blush that stained her cheeks. Oh my
god, oh crap, shit, she repeated in her mind. Thank god he doesn’t know what I was thinking!, she tried to console herself, even though the look in his eyes and tilt to lips implied that he knew exactly what she had been thinking. Knew that it was his hands she imagined touching her.

  She wanted to run, to disappear, to melt away and forget this episode had ever happened. She wished she could transport herself to her house, where she could be curled up on the couch watching TV, away from this moment. When a surreptitious click of her heals and a desperate “There’s no place like home” plea to whatever god was listening failed to pull her out of this nightmare, Abby did the only thing she could think of: she squared her shoulders, tipped up her chin and boldly stared him in the eye. There was nothing to do but brazen it out at this point.

  “That’s okay,” she began. “I was just about done anyway.” She turned back to the mirror and fluffed her hair and pretended to fix her lipstick with her thumb, while talking herself into confidently stalking out of the room, out of the club, and out of The Suit’s life…forever. At home she could revel in her embarrassment. And one day, she thought, she might even be able to laugh at this memory. A soft click behind her froze her hand, finger still resting on her bottom lip. Even the air in her lungs stilled as she met The Suit’s dark eyes in the mirror. His right hand was out of his pocket and on the lock to the bathroom door, sealing her inside with him, and keeping the rest of the world out.

  “You’re not anywhere close to done,” he declared, and moved towards her, covering the space between them in two strides of his long, muscular legs. Leaving just inches of air between their bodies, he shrugged out of his suit jacket in one smooth motion, then reached past her to lay the jacket on the sink behind her. His arm brushed against her side as he did so, causing Abby to gasp and flinch, as if she’d been burned. In fact, her skin did feel on fire, even though the touch was two layers of clothes removed from being skin on skin. She felt another pulse in her groin and a slick of wetness between her legs. Suddenly, the lacy black thong she was wearing didn’t seem like a good idea. There wasn’t nearly enough fabric there to mask her arousal.