Stuck-Up Suit(41)

“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 *. 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 f*ck 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 f*cked 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 f*cking 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 f*ck 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 f*cking 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.

The line was out the door, a sea of black, stuffy polyester. Old rich members of Manhattan’s upper crust were discussing their stock portfolios when they should have just been shutting the f*ck up. I couldn’t see past the people in front of me. Not that I wanted to see anything in there. I wanted to go home, to my safe place inside Soraya.

Having to take a leak like no one’s business, I whispered in Soraya’s ear, “Keep our place in line. I’m gonna find a bathroom.”

“Okay,” she said, looking a bit wary of my leaving her alone.

I left the line and followed the path of Persian rugs to the restroom. After I’d pissed like a race horse, I was on my way back to Soraya when I spotted Liam’s mother, Phyllis, comforting a little girl in the hallway. The child was crying, and it broke my heart.

While the girl’s back was turned to me, she seemed to be about four years old. She had to be Liam and Genevieve’s daughter. I’d never seen her before. I’d only known that Liam knocked Genevieve up pretty soon after I found out about their affair. At the time, that news had only made things worse. But at this moment, I felt nothing but sympathy for a child who’d lost her parent. I knew that kind of pain all too well.

Phyllis looked startled to see me, but I couldn’t walk past her without paying my condolences.

I felt nauseous as I said, “Hello, Phyllis. I’m so sorry about Liam.”

Looking distraught, she simply nodded and held the little girl tighter before walking away. I trailed behind them when I noticed a black pom pom had fallen out of the girl’s hair onto the rug.

Clearing my throat, I walked a bit faster to catch up with them. “Excuse me. She dropped something.”

When the girl turned around, it was the first time I’d gotten a look at her. Kneeling down and holding the pom pom out, I’d forgotten what I was supposed to say next. The wind had been completely knocked out of me. There were no words…just a complete state of disbelief and confusion. Because if I didn’t know better, I would have thought I was looking into the face of my mother.