Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(92)

Because then you’ll remind me of everything I stand to lose.

I didn’t want to think of what it would look like to lose the election, but this week I could no longer ignore the hypothetical what-if scenarios.

What if my parents’ murderer became the mayor?

What if I had to live in a town where I had to see his face all the time?

What if I had to sit back and watch Lily lose her shop because I couldn’t beat the person who destroyed my family?

She nearly chokes me with how hard she pulls on the tie, and I wheeze.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

She hits me with a look of concern. “Didn’t you hear me speaking to you?”

“No,” I confess.

I’m quick to glance away, but she grips my chin and forces me to look at her again. “Want to talk about what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Not really.”

“I assumed as much.” She reaches inside her purse and pulls out the other Moirai die. “I didn’t come here to talk anyway.”

God, I love her for always knowing what I need.

Shit.

Love?

I mean, I’ve felt it during our time together, but I’ve never admitted it freely, not even to myself.

“What’s that look for?” she asks, her gaze darting to my mouth.

“Thinking about you.”

She readjusts her position on my lap so she can slip the die into my front pocket, reuniting it with its match. Her proximity to my cock sends a lick of heat across my skin, and blood begins to travel southward.

Her mouth curls at the corners as she walks her fingers up my chest. “I could help take the edge off a bit, if you want.”

“We shouldn’t.” The plastic armrests beneath my hands bend from how hard I’m gripping them.

Her lips curl upward as she slides off my lap. If I was thinking straight, I’d reconsider the idea, but my mind goes blank as she sinks to her knees instead.

“Lily.”

She ignores my protest and tugs on my leather belt, clearing the loops holding it in place before unbuckling it.

I should tell her never mind. I should shove the chair back, pull her up onto her feet, and fix her dress, which has ridden up to give me a better view of her thighs. Anyone could walk in on us, but the thought only sends more blood rushing toward my aching cock.

I hiss when she brushes her finger over it in the process of unbuttoning my pants, so I bite down on my lip and let her undo my zipper.

Fuck it. Five minutes is plenty of time.

My cock, which was already half-aroused with her sitting on my lap, thickens as she palms it over my boxers. I’m fighting a losing battle keeping my eyes glued to the door.

If anyone comes in unannounced, the desk will keep Lily and my dick hidden, so worst case is they’ll see my face—

“Relax,” she says, seeming to sense my panic.

She tugs my boxers down so she can free my erection, and my thighs tense as she leans forward. Her hair brushes across my thighs, adding another sensation to my already overloaded brain.

She laughs softly to herself. “You’re way too wound up right now.”

“Are you going to do something about it, or are you going to spend the next five minutes teasing me?” My gaze drifts back to the door.

“Don’t you dare look away again.” She gives my cock a single pump, and my eyes snap to hers.

The only way that’s happening is if someone rips my eyeballs from their sockets because once Lily leans forward and wraps her pretty mouth around my cock, I’m a goner. Her wet heat envelops me, and warmth spreads from my groin to the rest of my body.

For a while, I thought there was something wrong with me because I’d heard men talk about sex and never related to their mind-blowing experiences. The few and far between encounters I’d had were unremarkable, and half the time I was more curious about finding out if my stance on intimacy changed than the actual act itself.

I eventually accepted that something was wrong with me…up until now.

Until Lily.

Because everything with her feels different. Better.

When I shut my eyes, she pierces my thighs with her nails, and I snap them open with a low rumble in my throat.

Our eyes connect as she drags her tongue up the shaft, and the knot in my stomach loosens with every pass of her mouth over my length. I’ve completely forgiven her for the half-moon-shaped marks on my skin by the time she reaches the tip.

She swipes at a bead of arousal before she lets go of me with a pop. I’m about to protest when her tongue darts out, and she returns to tracing lazy paths across my length. Her teasing is torture as she fists my cock and slowly pumps until I’m leaning back in the chair with a groan.

“How much time do we have now?” she asks, and I curse.

“Four minutes.”

She laughs. “Three more than I need.”

Lily is my new favorite drug, and my brain is rewiring itself so I’m completely dependent on her.

Her strokes. Her licks. The way she takes me into her mouth and wraps her hand tightly around my length, her pumps matching the tempo of her tongue.

She dangles my orgasm in front of me, taking me closer to the edge, and I’m so. Fucking. Close.

“I’m going to come,” I warn her, giving her an out.

My balls draw up, and my skin prickles, my release within reach. Lily must sense it, because her movements become hastier, and with one final, harsh tug on my cock, I come undone. Lily does her best to swallow everything, and I’m overcome with another wave of toe-curling pleasure as some of my cum slips out the side of her mouth.