Stuck-Up Suit

“I see. Are you looking for my help, Mr. Morgan?”

“Don’t call me Mr. Morgan unless you’re going for a submissive vibe, in which case I’ll be more than happy to take you over my knee right now. We could play that game if you want.” My thoughts trailed off as I became mesmerized by her slightly parted lips. “God, I want to fuck your mouth right now.”

She seemed to squirm in her seat. “Do you now?”

“Yes. And go down on you. We can liken it to stress eating.”

She burst into laughter.

“Glad you think it’s funny because I am ten seconds from burying my face underneath that dress.”

“We can’t. We’re going to be at the funeral parlor any minute.”

My voice sounded thick and needy as I slid my hand underneath her dress, caressing her thigh. “Not if we agree to be late.”

“You’re serious?”

Instead of answering her, I picked up the phone to call my driver. “Louis, we’re not quite ready to head to the funeral home. We’d like you to just drive around for a while. Circle back here in about thirty minutes.”

“No problem, Mr. Morgan.”

She bit her lip and shook her head in disbelief at me, and that made my dick swell even harder. I couldn’t go to a wake with a hard on. So, this was an urgent matter anyway.

Soraya’s back was against the leather seat. Sliding the material of her dress up her thighs, I knelt beneath her and spread her knees apart. Slowly removing her lace thong with my teeth, I could feel the wetness on the material against my tongue.

Fuck me. She was drenched.

Her ass writhed under me as I wasted no time moving my tongue in a slow up and down motion over her pussy. I wasn’t just using the tip, but rather the entire length of my tongue to devour her, stopping only long enough to suck on her clit. She’d never been this wet for me. Ever.

Soraya ran her long fingernails through my hair and pulled. My mouth was covered in her arousal as I kept at it before deciding that I couldn’t take it anymore. Sticking my fingers inside of her, I moved them in and out as I looked up into her glazed-over eyes. “I really need to fuck you.”

“Yes. Please…” she muttered.

Oh, I could definitely get used to Soraya Venedetta begging.

Unzipping my trousers, I let them fall halfway down my legs before repositioning her so that she was on top. The leather was cold beneath me. Within seconds, she bore down on my cock, causing my eyes to roll back.

Her dress was riding up her waist, her bare ass exposed as she rode me while I looked up into her eyes. The feel of sinking into her had been just as incredible as I imagined it would be. I couldn’t help pulling out the pins in her hair, undoing her updo, watching the tresses fall as she fucked me. Just like the night of the gala, she didn’t protest; I knew she didn’t want it up anyway.

The other times we’d had sex seemed gentle in comparison to this town car experience. This was rougher, carnal…pure, unadulterated fucking at its best.

When she let out a stifled moan, I came harder than I could ever remember coming. It felt so good to let out the tension that had been building all day. Nothing—not even my strenuous workout—had been able to soothe me like being inside of her had. Not only that, but Liam’s death was a harsh and painful reminder of my own mortality and a reminder of what was important. Life was simply too short not to fuck like this all of the damn time.

“We’re both a mess now,” she said as she got off of me.

“I swear to God. You’ve never looked more beautiful to me, Soraya.” It was the truth. Her face was flushed, her hair a mess. Pure joy in the face of death. I was so grateful not to have to face this night alone. So grateful to be alive.

She took out her compact and looked in the mirror. “I went from looking like Princess Grace to Roseanne Rosannadanna.”

That made me chuckle. “And I fucking love it.”

I had Louis stop at Macy’s so that Soraya could use the bathroom to fix her hair and buy some new panties. We were officially late to the wake.

When we pulled up to the funeral home, my anxiety level was sky-high again. Soraya now had her hair tied back into a low ponytail. She rubbed my back and said, “It’ll be okay.”

Thank God she was here with me.

Not only was it going to be difficult to see Liam’s dead body, but it was the first time I’d have to come face to face with Genevieve in a very long time. But perhaps the most painful part was the fact that all of this reminded me of the last time I’d set foot in a funeral home: when my mother died.