Dirty Little Promise

by Kendall Ryan

  “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, and 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 o
ne 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.”

  • • •

  Emma

  When we arrived at the office Christmas party, I was momentarily taken aback by the sight of so many beautiful women in one place. All these months, it had been easy to forget that Gavin ran an escort agency, but now? Not so much.

  Gavin didn’t release my hand as he led me into the office. And he didn’t so much as glance at any of the women.

  I stopped to hug Alyssa and waved to a couple of people I recognized, feeling calmer already. The invite list for their ugly-sweater party read like an enviable who’s who of the Boston social scene. Politicians and notable members of the media were there, as well as a couple of professional athletes.

  And then there were my parents, standing near the punch bowl with wide eyes.

  Oh dear God.

  I prayed for their sake—and mine—that the eggnog was heavily spiked.

  “Hey, Mom.” Gavin greeted my mother, pulling her into a swift hug with an easy smile.

  She beamed, patting his chest. “Don’t you look handsome as ever, son.”

  “Hi, Mom,” I said, giving her a hug.

  I was perfectly okay with playing second fiddle to Gavin. It was sweet, their adoration and understanding for each other. To say that Gavin had won my mom over was the understatement of the year. They had a very cute and special relationship.

  “Daddy.” I grinned as I lifted up on my toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

  “You two are late,” my father said.

  Gavin muttered an apology as he shook my father’s hand.

  “Are you guys enjoying yourselves?” I asked, feeling a little self-conscious. What I meant was, Are you scarred for life?

  Gavin had insisted upon inviting them, taking this whole family thing seriously. He had parents in his life for the first time in a long time, and he was trying to make the most of it. I never thought they’d actually come, but they were trying to accept all the various sides and sometimes sharp angles to their new son-in-law, so I knew I shouldn’t complain.

  “It’s been rather . . . enlightening,” my mother said, her gaze darting to where a group of escorts in their twenties were doing shots at the bar.

  My father nodded toward a white-haired man across the room. “Is that the CEO of Goldschmidt’s bank over there?”

  Gavin nodded. “He’s been a client for years, actually. Good guy. I can introduce you later, if you like.”

  My father’s face lit up like the Fourth of July. “That’d be terrific.”

  My mother pursed her lips. “Don’t you even think about trading me in for one of these hot little numbers, Frank,” she warned.

  That answered the question about whether the eggnog was spiked. My mother’s tongue was already loosened. God help us all tonight.

  Dad put a loving arm around my mom’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I have everything I need right here.” They shared a quick kiss while Gavin and I exchanged a look.

  Gavin led my father over to meet his man crush, and Mom and I took our drinks to wander around and mingle. It hardly looked like their office with the low lighting, and all the furniture moved out of the way to accommodate a small bar and parquet dance floor.

  I chuckled to see Quinn was dressed as Santa Claus, complete with a red velvet suit, stuffed belly, and white beard. His perfectly styled dark hair wasn’t covered by a wig, though, so the effect was rather hilarious. He was a hot Santa, and he was truly the center of attention. With Gavin now married and Cooper nowhere to be found, that left the dozen or so escorts in the room focusing on Quinn—sitting on his lap, pressing lipstick kisses to his cheek, and smiling at his every word.

  For the first time, I realized how lonely it must be being Quinn Kingsley. As the oldest brother of the family, he had so much weight on his shoulders as he guided the ship. The smudge of dark circles under his eyes was faintly visible. While he was jovial tonight, all smiles and hearty laughs, I could tell it wasn’t always that easy for him.

  Pushing the somber thoughts away, I introduced my mom to Alyssa, and they struck up an easy conversation. As I stood there, enjoying the low pulse of electronic holiday music pumping through the speakers, my mind began to drift.

  This year was so strange. It was Christmastime, but instead of baking cookies and stocking up on sweaters, I’d spent the morning picking out bikinis, modeling each one for Gavin in the department-store dressing room. Tomorrow, we’d leave for the vacation in the Seychelles islands Gavin had bid on and won at the charity gala we’d attended together earlier this year—fourteen days spent on a private yacht in the Indian Ocean off the coast of East Africa. A late honeymoon, a holiday getaway . . . whatever you wanted to call it, it was my idea of heaven.

  Of course, my parents had balked that I wouldn’t be home for Christmas with my new husband. It amused me to think about Gavin sleeping in my childhood bedroom with me, probably tying me up with my old equestrian ribbons or making me wear my old cheerleading uniform while we made love. And, of course, I would have done it. It was impossible to deny Gavin something he wanted.

  Traditions like that with my family would come later, in time. Their acceptance of Gavin, of us, meant the world to me. My mom had continued with her quest for grandbabies, reminding me that I’d be thirty next year.

  I still wasn’t sure what to make of Gavin’s uncertainty about that subject, and tried to hide how worried I felt about it.

  Later, my parents met Quinn, and while they chatted about my dad’s favorite football team, Gavin turned toward me.

  “Come with me,” he said, taking my hand and drawing me into a private alcove in the office. “There’s something I want to say to you.”

  My heart beat faster, stealing my breath. “Okay.”

  He brushed my hair lovingly from my face and took a step closer. “There were so many things I never thought I’d do. Fall in love, get married . . .”

  He left it off the list, but I imagined having a falling-out with Cooper would ha
ve been on that list too. And that stung, because I knew it was my fault. It still made my heart hurt after all this time. But I couldn’t focus on Cooper right now because Gavin was opening up, baring yet another piece of his soul to me, and I hung on his every word.

  “What are you saying, Gavin?”

  “I also never thought I’d be a father, but I’ve been thinking about it lately, thinking about what you said. Let’s have a baby.”

  Suddenly breathless and at a complete loss for words, I felt my mouth curve into a suspicious smile. “What are you talking about?”

  He shrugged, pulling me close to his chest. “Having all those things I never thought I’d want, they’ve taught me I can’t be afraid to say yes to the good things in life. You’ve made me so happy, Emma. I want this too. With you.”

  “Gavin . . .” My heart surged with even more love for this man.

  “What do you say, love?”

  I brought my lips to his, kissing my silly, loving husband. “Of course I do. But, I’m sorry, I’m kind of in shock right now.”

  “Want to make a baby?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

  “My bookstore isn’t even open yet. I think we should wait a couple of months. I’ll get off birth control, and we can figure out the right time.”

  He brought my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Of course. There’s no rush.”

  My heart swelled at the thought of Gavin with a baby, the thought of someone else, even a tiny creature, loving him so unconditionally. It made my heart feel incredibly full.

  He might have thought he was doing this for me, but truly, this would be one of the biggest gifts and blessings in his life. He just didn’t know it yet. Fatherhood would suit Gavin. I knew it.

  He was commanding, yet loving. Firm, but fair. Guarded, but affectionate. I wasn’t worried, not one single bit. And I almost laughed at the idea of how overprotective he’d be of me while I was pregnant. But if I could survive an over-the-top alpha male doting on me, I knew our happily-ever-after would be amplified tenfold.