Undeniably Married (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires Book 4)

Smart decisions I’ve made since I walked out on my wedding to Brody yesterday? Zero. I think at this point it’s safe to say I’ve made zero smart decisions in the last twenty-four hours. It’s as if finding out Brody had been leading a double life with Eloise short-circuited my brain. Serena’s always been the wild one of the two of us. Not me.

I’m the level-headed, practical, always-does-as-she-should doctor.

Yet somehow, I’m in Las Vegas with Mason, a younger man, a professional football player at that, and after a drunken night, we’re now married. I wanted revenge on Brody, and I suppose I got it. Hell, I begged for it. I talked Mason into this, and I was worried he would be mad or upset with me, but that certainly doesn’t seem to be the case.

I wanted to be wild and crazy and do something reckless and impulsive.

I got what I asked for. And a whole lot more.

Smashing Pumpkins’ “Today” plays through the speaker on my phone almost as if it’s mocking me.

Oh my god, I’m married to Mason Reyes. I married him the same day I broke off a two-year relationship with someone else I was going to marry. There is nothing smart or rational about that, and I’ll have a lot of explaining to do, but do I even care right now when Mason is touching me while practically begging to make me come?

When Mason wants me?

This younger, cocky, hot quarterback, who is wholly desired by models and actresses wants me. The girl who is… well, just a normal girl. A girl with one boob that is slightly bigger than the other and stretchmarks on her hips and cellulite on her ass.

He brought me to Vegas. He’s made me feel like this from the first moment my hand met his. He married me when I asked him to, despite the fucked-up, ridiculous reasons. Maybe he’s simply being a good friend to me or feels an obligation to my cousins—I know he’s insanely loyal—but that’s not what this feels like. Not at all.

This feels like wicked heat and a hell of a lot of lust.

His hands are doing incredible things to my breasts as his mouth flirts with the corner of my lips. I find the back of his head and hold him against me, and yet I say, “We’re friends, Mason. Friends don’t do this.”

Though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t remember what his kisses felt like last night and how good what he’s doing to me now feels. Better than anything I can remember in a very long time. I dreamed about him doing this very thing to me last night, only he was peeling a white gown off me and not a bikini.

Desire burns hot in my blood, once again clouding my better judgment. I want to come at the hands of someone other than myself. It’s been so long since that’s happened that I was starting to believe there was something wrong with me because I couldn’t get off with Brody.

Especially after reading how Brody made Eloise come.

I want Mason to prove that wrong. I want him to shatter that self-doubt.

“Friends do this, Sorel. They absolutely do.”

My eyes pinch shut. “It’s going to complicate this more.”

“Not if we don’t let it. I kissed you, and it hasn’t changed us. I married you, and it hasn’t changed us. It’s Vegas, remember? No regrets, only adventure. I want to make you come. I want to make you come so fucking hard. Just tell me it’s okay. Please, baby, tell me you want that as much as I want it.”

Oh, god. I shouldn’t do this. I really, seriously, truly shouldn’t do this.

But I want it.

As much as he does.

He’s saying it won’t change us. And it won’t. Not if I don’t let it.

“Keep going. Don’t stop.”

I’ve come this far. No sense in stopping now.

Mason growls against me and rips the triangles of my bikini to the sides so he can feel me unobstructed. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

“Show me,” I whimper when he pinches and pulls my nipples. “Make me feel it, Mason. I need to feel it.”

He spins me around, and his mouth crashes down on mine, his tongue immediately diving in as he gives me a long, drugging kiss. He groans, his hand fisting my hair at the nape of my neck so he can control me. My hands are everywhere, through his short hair, down his shoulders to his back, and around to his chest. Mason is a work of art. Brody had a nice body, but it’s got nothing on Mason’s. His skin is hot and wet, and he feels incredible as I explore. His tongue plays with mine, his kisses alternating between deep plunges and sweet, playful nips.

One of his hands rubs along my ass, playing with it over my bikini before he pushes that aside and squeezes my flesh.

“Fuck you feel good.” He presses me against him, the hard ridge of his cock rubbing my lower belly as his hand on my ass dips lower and rubs my pussy from behind. The water adds an extra layer of friction, and I gasp into him and rip myself back.

Mason’s eyes are dark, twin pools of black ringed with green circles, and his reddish-brown hair is wet and all over the place from my hands. His expression is reticent, caught between the desire to kiss me again and the struggle to hold himself back. He glances down, his chest rising and falling with his exaggerated breaths as he stares at my tits like a man on the edge of his sanity.

He’s feral, and it makes my empty core clench and my clit throb.

I might regret this later, but right now, my body is running the show.

Wordlessly we reach for each other at the same time, his hand going back to the nape of my neck and mine to his hips. We slam together, an ionic bond chemically reacting as we cling tightly, any space too much space, and our mouths are no different, whimpering and grunting, rubbing and kissing. I scrape my nails up his abs, and he bites my lips, sucking and dragging them with his teeth. A moan hits the air, and I grind into him while he plays with my pussy and tits.

I need more friction, more contact.

He must sense this because, in a flash, he picks me up by my hips and drops me on the edge of the pool. His eyes are hot on mine, burning me from the inside out as he removes my bikini string by string, and when he glances down, when he sees all that’s before him, he licks his lips, and his eyes grow darker than I’ve ever seen them.

“Jesus,” he rasps, adjusting me so my legs are spread wider. I’m breathing so hard, I’m dizzy from it. Scared and excited like I’ve never been before. “You are so fucking sexy I can’t even think straight. You have the prettiest pussy.”

He shakes his head, runs his hands over the top of his head, and sinks to his knees in the water. The pool is only about three and a half feet deep, and Mason is tall. Certainly tall enough that his chest is above the waterline, and he’s practically eye-level with my pussy. The urge to close my legs is compelling, but there is no way I can. Not with how he’s looking at me.

“We’re not running from here,” he tells me, his gaze darting up to mine and locking firm. “We’re going to enjoy our week with each other. I’m going to enjoy every inch of you, everywhere I can, whenever I can. I’m going to do unholy things to your body, Sorel Fritz-Reyes. The rest we’ll figure out. That’s what long plane rides are for. You feel me?”

I’m about to, I think, but simply nod because, while I should argue, I don’t want to. Not when he’s laying that sort of promise at my feet. Not when he’s saying all the right things. It’s just sex, just this week, nothing more.

“Yes. I feel you. I want to feel you.”

He grins. “Then spread your thighs wider for me, princess. I want to lick my wife’s cunt until she comes all over my face.”

OMFG! Oh my fucking god!

“Stop calling me your wife.” But keep talking dirty.

“Because you like it or because it reminds you of exactly what you are?”

“No! Neither,” I protest.

Except he knows I’m lying. What is it about him calling me his wife that makes me hot? Or is it simply the way he says it? So possessive with a dominant edge that makes me wet.

With his eyes on mine, he spreads me wider, and his middle finger drags up and down my slit. “So pretty.” His finger slips inside. “So wet.” He pumps in and out of me. “So tight.” He adds a second finger. “So mine.”

I watch the slide of his digits as pleasure unfurls through me from inside while making me even more turned on by the erotic voyeurism of it. His lips come down on me and suck my clit straight into his mouth. He groans loudly, and I gasp, my back arching and my hand shooting up to his hair as my eyes close and my head falls back. Holy fuck is this man not gentle. His tongue is a tornado, wicked and violent and taking no prisoners.

A third finger slips inside me, and his pace slows, almost agonizingly so.

“You drive me so crazy. Open your eyes. Watch me eat your pretty pussy. See how much I want you. See how much I love the way you taste and feel and smell.” As if to prove that, he takes a deep inhale of me and licks at my opening where his fingers are still slowly fucking me.

My eyes snap open, and I stare down, almost shocked by all that I see.

Flushed skin. Tits pointed up and out with hard, pink nipples. Thighs spread wide with Mason Reyes positioned directly between them.

“Oh.” A moan surprises me as it flees my lips. Because I wasn’t moaning at what he’s doing to me—though it’s pretty fucking incredible—I moaned at what I’m seeing. At how hot and sexy and dirty and almost wrong it is. The watching is almost just as good as what he’s doing to me. The fact that we’re outside, on our patio, where people nearby could hear us or even possibly see us… “Oh, fuck!”

He peeks up at me with a dark, devilish grin. His large hand holds my hips, rocking me forward and fucking me up into his face. I plant one hand on the hardscape behind me, the other on my breast, unable to get enough of the sight of him like this. I’ve never watched before. Hell, I’ve never been given oral sex in the middle of the day with daylight streaming all over me. I’m completely open and exposed, so utterly visible to him.

It’s getting me high. Drugged.

Somewhere nearby we can hear people laughing and making noise, and I moan again, louder. I don’t even know how it happens. It’s like once again, I’m outside my body.

He chuckles against me. “Naughty girl, you want them to hear you. You want to get caught.”

It’s as if he’s reading my mind. But how can I want to get caught? That doesn’t even make sense, and yet the thought of someone seeing this, watching it the way I am…

I can already feel the first signs of an orgasm building deep in my core.

Before Brody, I went for the smart, quiet, sensible, nerdy type. Decent sex, but nothing mind-blowing. Nothing more than average sex with some mild foreplay thrown in there. Brody changed that in terms of the type of guy he was, but I believe it’s already been established that his bedroom proclivities weren’t to my benefit.

Mason and I haven’t even had sex yet, but I can already tell sex with him is going to be more than simply mind-blowing. It’s going to be epic. Life-changing. Body-ruining. That thought scares me for a second until he distracts me by dragging the pad of his tongue up my pussy and I can’t think about anything else other than the driving need to come.

As if sensing this, he picks up his pace, rubbing the inner front wall of my pussy as he circles and flicks at my clit.

“Ah, Mason.” Oh my god, I’m going to come.

“That’s it, baby. You’re so close. I can feel it. Come for me. I want to taste it. Make me taste it.” He doubles his efforts, licking and sucking and French fucking kissing the hell out of my pussy while his fingers bang into me right on the spot I need them to.

“Oh, god!” I cry out as I rock into him, my pussy clenching as my orgasm rolls through me. I grip the edge of the pool, my other hand holding me up as spasms shake me. Wild hot heat courses through my blood and across my skin, making my toes curl and my thighs tremble.

Yes. Thank God.

I slump and fall against him as I try to catch my breath and not pass out again. My head is spinning as it is. Woof. Silly emotion hits me, and tears sting the backs of my closed eyes. Relief consumes me, and I bite my lip to temper this down. How ridiculous. I’m crying over having an orgasm. But it’s not just the orgasm. It’s what it signifies.

I feel him move and shift, and then the head of his thick cock is at my entrance. Before I can get my bearings, or even open my eyes, he thrusts inside of me all the way to the hilt, and now all of Las Vegas knows I’m getting fucked by a man with a huge dick. Holy shit!

“Mason!”

“Fucking hell, you’re tight.” He pants out a breath, his forehead on my shoulder where he kisses and sucks on my skin, trickling down to take my nipple in his mouth. “But damn do you feel so good. Shit. I’m not wearing anything.”

He starts to pull out, but I hold him tight. “It’s okay. I’m on the pill.”

“You sure? I’ve never… I mean, I didn’t mean to just… I haven’t been with anyone in a very long time and I’m⁠—”

“I’m good. Don’t stop.”

He draws back and cups my face, inching in closer until our chests touch. He rocks his hips ever so subtly, driving himself in just a little deeper. “You look so beautiful with me inside you. You wanted me to make you feel it.” He pushes in. “You feel that, right? You feel how hard I am for you?” He groans, his face red and his pupils totally blown out. He’s so hot like this. So dangerous. “Are you ready to take my cock? Out here in the open of our balcony where anyone could hear me fucking you?”

Oh, Jesus.

I clench, and he smirks, almost triumphantly.

Without waiting on a reply I’m positive I couldn’t give him, he slides out, his gaze now glued to his glistening cock before he slams back into me. My lungs empty, and a moan falls through the air between us. My hands move back behind me, and my legs wrap around his waist. I roll up, seeking to take him back in, wanting him deeper, needing to feel this, because fuck does it feel good.

“Fuck yeah. That’s it. Take it from me.”

With his hands on my hips, he brings my ass to the edge of the pool, and he starts to fuck me. His cock drives into me with precision on smooth, even strokes that rattle my already rattled brain. Taking one of my bouncing tits in his hand, he holds it up for his mouth to catch. His teeth scrape my soft skin before he bites my nipple. Not hard. But enough to have me whimpering and writhing on him.

He grunts and thrusts into me, swiveling his hips when he’s bottomed out and so deep, I practically feel him in my stomach. My head falls back, and I groan, grinding and fucking against him. I get lost in this. In the push and slides of his dick, in the unbridled grunts and groans he’s emitting. In the heat that’s everywhere, from the July desert air to the man fucking me to the sound of people on a not-so-distant balcony listening to how good I’m getting it.

My tits bounce and sway as he drives into me, his pace growing faster. He smacks one, and I cry out at the zap of pain that’s nothing short of sweet with how it immediately turns to pleasure.

“Sorel,” he moans, his voice shredded. “You. This.”

I nod because yes. This. And this becomes everything when a wet finger rubs and rolls my clit.

“Oh, god,” I whimper, holding him tighter with my thighs, moving my hips faster to meet him thrust for thrust, pound for pound. “I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming.” It’s almost a surprise how it takes me. Mason growls as I shoot forward and clutch onto him, practically bent in half. I jerk and twitch and whimper, unable to stop myself or control my movements as he fucks me through it.

Strong arms wrap around me, and he holds me tight as he pumps harder and faster up into me, right on that magic spot that now has me screaming, especially when his thumb presses in on my clit, and he whispers, “They’re quiet. They’re listening to you come. Do you think they’re fucking now too?”

It sends my orgasm to the next level, continuing something that would have otherwise already been over. And when he can’t take it anymore, when he reaches his breaking point, he grunts, stills, buries his face in my neck, and with a couple of twitches, spills himself inside of me. He holds on tight, and for a few minutes, it’s just us breathing, the sound resonant now that we’re still.

I’m no longer listening for the people. That thrill has passed, and all I hear is him and the music still coming from my phone.

Slowly he pulls back and brushes a thumb along my cheek as his gaze flickers around my face. Wordlessly, he leans in and kisses me, and I don’t know what this kiss is. I can hardly describe it or make sense of it in my head. Thankfully, it’s brief, and he pulls out of me.

“Let’s get cleaned up and have something to eat so we can talk.”

That sounds perfect, and I nod, gathering the scraps of my bathing suit and putting it back on, doing a quick tie so I’m covered. I don’t know what I just did out here in the open like that, and I need to get out of this heat. Reality is crashing down on me and I need to be alone.

I grab my phone and pull myself up, ready to dart back inside when he calls out, stopping me. “And Sorel?” I don’t turn around. “That was just an appetizer for things to come, princess.”

I race into my bedroom and go straight into the bathroom. I lock the door and flip on the shower. My legs are wobbly, and I throw myself a quick glance in the mirror only to laugh. I look like I had a wild night in Vegas followed by a rough morning and a hard fuck. Jesus. I just did that. With Mason.

But with that what I said to him in the pool makes my stomach roll. My gaze snags on the thin compact half sticking out of my makeup bag. My pill. Crap! Did I take it last night? I honestly can’t remember. I slept in Mason’s room. I all but passed out. I’ve never missed my pill. Not once.

I flip open the lid and sure enough, I didn’t. Double crap.

I snap two pills out of the blister pack and shift them around in my palm. It’s only one missed pill, and I can double up without needing backup contraception, even with a progesterone-only pill. Medically, I know this. Still, it’s not something you like to see after you just fucked a man you’re not involved with bare.

I fill a glass with water and down both pills before I sit on the edge of the bathtub and call Serena.

“Hey!” she shouts into the phone. “Finally, she calls. What’s up, sugar plum? How’s it going?”

I can hear people in the background. “Where are you?”

“We’re at the compound, hanging out by the pool. What’s wrong? Are you okay? You sound funny.”

By compound, she means our grandparents’ massive estate just outside of Boston. “Who’s with you?”

“A bunch of us are here, but at the pool, it’s just Katy, Layla, Tinsley, Stella, Wren, Keegan, and Kenna.” My older sister Stella’s best friend Layla is my cousin by marriage and Katy’s adoptive mother, and Wren, Keegan, and Kenna are my cousins. Tinsley is engaged to Stone, but her dad is best friends with Mason’s dad. Even still, she’s not going to talk about anything. It’s only family, more or less. Plus, these women are more than that to me. They’re my people, and right now, I need some serious girl talk or advice or something.

“I um… I’m fine. Well, sort of. I had a rough night last night with too much alcohol.”

“Uh-oh. What’d you do?”

I choke on a humorless laugh and get up to turn off the shower before I sink to the bathroom floor and draw my knees up to my chest.

“Oh, boy. This is bad, I can tell. Do you want this private or a group chat?”

“Group. I think. Grandma and Mom aren’t there, right?”

“No. It’s just us. They’re all inside.”

Perfect.

“I have Sorel on the phone,” Serena announces, and I get a round of hey and hi and how’s it going.

I laugh. It’s not even funny, or maybe it is, but I can’t help it, especially as I blurt out, “Last night I got married to Mason, and this morning, just now actually, we consummated said marriage.”

My forehead hits my knees, and I keep my phone by my ear instead of putting it on speaker because I know what’s coming next.

“Oh my fucking god!” That’s almost in unison from everyone there. “Are you serious, Sorel?! What the actual fuck were you thinking?” That end part is a combination of Serena and Stella.

“Did you see the mini press conference Brody did?” I throw back at them.

Katy, Tinsley, and Wren are cracking up. They’re good friends with Mason, so that’s no surprise.

“You revenge married Mason Reyes?” Serena questions like I’ve lost my goddamn mind. I have. I totally have. I don’t even know who I am right now.

“And then slept with him?” That’s Layla. “I mean, he’s hot. I’m a hundred years too old for him and good friends with his dad, but we all know he is.”

“So hot,” Stella agrees. “I don’t even like dick, and I know he’s hot.”

“He’s also an amazing guy,” Katy jumps in. “Like one of the best guys I know.”

“I agree,” Tinsley states. “There are few guys who are better than he is.”

I swallow and close my eyes. I can freaking feel Mason’s cum leaking into my bikini bottoms. “I know he’s the best. But I don’t do this. I don’t do crazy and impulsive⁠—”

“Unless you’re drunk,” Serena snorts. “Remember that time you came to visit me in Paris and we⁠—”

“Ah! Shut up. Okay, yes, alcohol isn’t always my friend. But I don’t randomly get revenge married and then fuck my new revenge husband. He’s my friend. My freaking friend. Who marries and fucks their friend on the same day they were going to marry someone else?!”

“Whoa, calm down,” Serena soothes. “It’s okay. One thing at a time.”

I cover my face with my hand and try to take slow, even breaths. I’m losing it a bit. I can feel it. The events of the past twenty-four hours are finally starting to hit me.

“What am I going to tell people?” I start to cry, and I feel so stupid for it. I’m a mess of my own making.

“Why do you have to tell anyone anything?” Tinsley questions. “For real?”

I wipe a tear from my face. “I don’t know. Maybe I don’t have to. I told Mason last night I wanted it to stay between us and Brody.”

“Are you sad about Brody?” Katy asks. “Are you wishing it were him instead of Mason?”

“No,” I whisper, but it’s no less true. “I don’t. That’s the odd part. I’m angry, and maybe I just haven’t started the grieving side of this, but I don’t miss Brody. I’m relieved I didn’t marry him. I just… I wanted to hurt him for all that he put me through. For all that he was doing behind my back. For the countless lies he told me. For touching and kissing and holding me after he fucked my friend. For never putting me first and always making me feel last. I wanted him to know what that feels like. What that sort of betrayal is like, and that’s why I married Mason. But now Mason is talking like we’re going to have this fling, and I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

“How was the sex?” Layla questions.

“Mom!” Katy gripes. “Gross. I don’t need to hear this about Mason.”

“Then cover your ears because I want to know.”

“I kind of want to know too.” Tinsley giggles. “What? Don’t give me that look. It’s Mason. Have you seen that man? He has that I’m-a-sex-god vibe thing.”

I snicker because she’s not wrong about that, and it lightens the heaviness sitting on me a little. “The sex was incredible. Best I’ve ever had. Sorry, Katy, but it was.”

She makes a vomiting noise in the background.

“That’s great!” Wren states emphatically. “Enjoy it then. Enjoy it as much and as often as you can. If the sex is hot, then don’t stop having it simply because you had a drunken escapade down the aisle.”

“Wren, I love you, but you’re like twenty-five,” I say. “I’m in a totally different space of life than that. I ran out on my wedding yesterday and married Mason the same night. I’m no longer a girl in my twenties who can throw caution to the wind and do this sort of thing.”

“But why not?” she presses. “I get it, you’re older than me, and viva la twenties, but again, why not? You’re thirty-five, not ninety-five. You have no plans to make your nuptials public. If not now, when? As you said, you ran out on your bad wedding and your bad guy, but that’s even more of a reason to do this. You can do whatever the hell you want now, babe. It’s your life, and you only get one. So truly, why can’t you have a hot fling in Vegas with your hot husband?”

Silence. I’m met with silence after that.

If not now, when? It’s your life, and you only get one.

That’s a sucker punch because I’ve never lived my life like that. I’m a planner. A future-thinker. I’ve never been an in-the-moment girl. But… if not now, when? And wasn’t that my whole speech to Mason last night? How I didn’t want to look back on my life and regret I never lived it.

“The girl has a point,” Stella concedes. “Since I assume you already have annulment or divorce plans set up and neither of you is looking for anything real to come of this?” she questions.

“Yes,” I acknowledge, leaning back against the edge of the tub, my chin pointed up toward the ceiling. My hand covers my eyes. “We talked about all that last night before we got married. Besides, this is Mason. It’s just sex to him. Just some Vegas fun. He as much as said so.”

“Then enjoy it,” Serena asserts. “Sorel, there is nothing wrong with having some fun, especially if the guy you’re having fun with is into it and in the same mental and emotional place you are. You deserve this. Hell, you need this. It’s just a week, right? What’s the worst that could happen?”