The Blue Box
Current Day.
Bottega Va. Yves Saint Laurent. Chanel.
My fingers dust the velvet-lined hangers, making the designer gowns sway gently in my closet. Interior lights shine down, providing just enough glow over the garments to see the detail of each. All of them are ck dresses, each with a unique difference.
The Bottega Va is a high-shine satin with a plunging neckline and a hem that puts my knees on full disy. The Yves Saint Laurent dress dons a cowl neck and longer hem, made of viscose, which clings like second skin. The Chanel?—
“You stop the show in anything you wear, my darling.” His dominant voice floods the master bedroom, despite the fact I know he’s only standing in the doorway. Turning, I find my boyfriend standing where I guessed, his hands shoved into his cks, one mountainous shoulder pressed up against the doorframe, a multi-million dor smirk lifting the corner of his full lips. “The belted ck shantung.” Despite knowing the way his arms feel looping my body, the warmth that trickles through my veins when I’m dwarfed by his powerful size, the scent of him after a long day of work–my body still excites as Sutton crosses the room and stops in front of me. He collects my hands with his, dusting his lips along my knuckles. “The Dior.” He graces my cheek with a soft kiss, and desire erupts beneath the flimsy satin of my thong. Sutton ties my white satin dressing robe a bit tighter.
I wish he’d untie it and throw it to the floor, the satin dressing gown nothing but a victim of his lecherous desire for me. Hell, I wish Sutton would throw me onto the bed and say, “fuck the dress, fuck the dinner, I have to stay in and feast on you tonight.”
He runs the backs of his knuckles down my cheek. “The car is out front, whenever you’re ready.” Another tender kiss, this time on my lips. Sutton releases my hands and turns, pulling our bedroom door shut behind him as he leaves.
After finding the Dior dress he mentioned, I drape it over the bed and open my robe. The floor to ceiling mirror shows me what I knew I’d find. What I see every time my boyfriend touches me.
Red, excited, eager flesh.
My chest is bright, and my nipples are plucky, and there is already a spot inside my satin thong where the ruby has turned ga, where my desire has bled through. Reaching down, I can’t help but touch the dark spot on the satin, then delve beneath to dust my fingertips against the source. Swollen and tender, if Sutton were here, with his hand in my panties, my robe open, nude body on disy—it wouldn’t take much.
A stroke.
A flick.
A puff of his breath along my sensitive skin.
That’s all.
My phone dings on my dressing table, notifying me that the security camera motion sensor has turned on. Our car is here. We are headed to an important business dinner downtown, and Sutton does not like beingte.
With my hair already styled in a ssic low bun, my six-month-anniversary diamonds glittering on my ears, I step into the Dior and reach behind myself, dragging the zipper up. Slipping into my nude Follies Strass Louboutin pumps—Sutton’s favorite—I find my clutch and head down.
He’s scrolling his phone when I step off the elevator and appear in the lobby, ten paces from him as he pins the main entry door open with his hip. He always refuses the doorman.
“Ready,” I quietly announce myself. Sutton’s eyes lift from his screen, and he doesn’t bother locking his phone before he shoves it into his suit pocket and moves toward me, cradling his open jaw in one hand.
“Avery.” The way he says Avery, like I’m so cherished that even speaking my name must be done so with delicacy. Sutton always makes me feel so adored, like a painted porcin girl meant to be held with love and white gloves. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve everid eyes on. As usual.” His arm snakes my waist, drawing me toward him. I drape my hands over his chest. His hazel eyes capture mine, feathering naughty promises over me with just a look. “But this dress—you’re a knockout, sweetheart. Truly.”
My heart races from hispliments. A year together and everything he says still ignites my bones and sets fire to my soul. My eyes burn from his adoration, and behind my ribs, my heart swells to five times its size.
“Thank you, Sutt.” I press up to my toes to kiss him, and further darken my panties as he makes that noise he sometimes makes—a low grumble in his belly, one that radiates through his chest, giving me a hint at the raw, carnal lover buried deep inside of him.<fnce22> Checktest chapters at FindN()vel</fnce22>
Sutton makes love like he does everything else. Intense, butposed. And that noise he makes sometimes when I kiss him, or when I slide my hand over his thigh in the back of the town car after a long night out and too many whiskeys–I want to dive into that noise and drown myself in it, it’s so arousing. Despite the fact that he’s mine, I’m often so starved for more of him that I feel outside myself.
He braces his hand at my lower back as he holds the door, and I slide in. He joins me in the backseat, and pulls the door closed.
“Larkin and California, downtown,” Sutton tells the driver, who nods his head before hitting the button, raising the partition. The soft leather makes no noise as he turns, unbuckled in his seat, taking one of my hands with both of his. “When you were at the office earlier, my father didn’t by chance mention tonight, did he?”
Sutton was showing a property in the East Bay the majority of the day, which meant he was out of office. Because I’ve been working on arge project for thest month, I was in the office in the nning phases. Remembering our conference room lunch, I nod. “He did.” I know what Sutton is asking. “He’s not bringing anyone.”
Sutton nods, rxing into the seat as our driver nudges us through downtown city traffic. “Good.”
“Just Chanel.” I smile when Sutton casts me his perfected irritated look.
“I don’t understand why he feels the need to include her in all Mercer Properties affairs,” heins, reaching over myp to fasten my seatbelt. He’s making sure I’m safe, and yet I wish he were reaching over to grab my knee beneath my dress and whisper something filthy to me before we arrive.
“Because she’s part of the Mercer team,” I remind him as he pops his cuffs.
“She’s disrespectful to you,” he says matter of fact, cutting me a deadeyed re. “I don’t like her. And anyway, she should always stay at reception. That’s the literal point of a receptionist.”
I open my purse and root around for my Barely There lipstick, and pull it out. Sutton’s eyes follow the tube of color as I twist it and bring it to my lips, tracing them. The way he watches me makes my stomach flutter. “She wants to sleep with you.”
Suddenly his thigh is pressed to mine, and he’s holding my lipstick in his hands, rolling it down, capping it. His breath, a touch of toothpaste and a hint of ck Label, warms the tip of my nose as he blinks down at me. “Come on,” he says, eyes shing with excitement despite his private tone. “We’re here. Your lipstick looks perfect. You look perfect.”
I’d close my eyes for a kiss, but he reaches past me to push the door open, and the cool bay evening leaps into the cab of the town car. “Stay. I’lle around,” he orders, before hopping out on his side and reappearing on mine.
Taking my hand, he weaves our fingers together, dragging me toward the expensive Japanese restaurant that boasts a room capacity of only ten people at a time. I’ve never been but wanted toe for ages—Geo says it’s the best omakase experience in the city.
The town car leaves us in front of the restaurant, which is made of ss windows, all of which are uncovered, leaving the dark, modern restaurant in clear view.
I nce up at the signage and the surrounding businesses. “I heard it’s not about exclusivity per se, but they designed this ce as a test kitchen for a bigger restaurant down–” my words drop off of a cliff when I look to find Sutton on the ground.
On one knee.
Holding a little blue box.
“Oh my god.” My heart is racing and immediately, my presumptuous eyes get hazy and wet.
“Avery Bet, I became obsessed with you the very first time I saw you. And I’ll admit, when I hired you, it was so that I could spend time with you. But you were and are incredible at your job, and the more time I spent with you and around you, the more I fell head over heels in love. And my obsession turned to the truest and deepest respect and love I’ve ever had for another person.” He pauses to open the box, revealing arge diamond on a massive setting. “Will you be my wife?”
I nod my head, afraid that words will bring tears, and tears will blur my vision. Right now, I’m etching Sutton’s happy face into my memory, to recall whenever I want, for the rest of my life. He gets to his feet, pinching the ring from the box.
Our eyes lock. And my heart throbs at the way emotion pulls at his voice.
“Thank you for saying yes. Thank you forpleting me. I love you. I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”
He slips the ring down my finger, and takes my face in his hands, kissing me with a kiss that curls my toes in my pumps and has my body pulsing.
The front door opens, and Geo’s head pops out. “You’re thest two,” he says to Sutton, his eyes sliding to me before everything else–therge rock on my finger, our tender embrace, the softness gracing Sutton’s usually strict features. Geo blinks a few times, then looks up at his son, and for a moment, hurt passes through his steely expression. The door swings shut as he looks between us in our moment.
“Oh.” Geo’s eyes linger on the diamond setting eating up my hand. The hurt in his eyes is gone as he pulls me into his chest. “Congrattions, Avery.” After our embrace, he shakes Sutton’s hand. “Congrattions, son.”
We head inside and celebrate with Mercer Properties, and Sutton keeps his hand on my thigh beneath the table—and my dress—the entire evening.<hr>
“Do you want to take it off or leave it on?” he asks as his tie sails to the floor, joining his perfectly pressed white dress shirt, blue cks, dress socks and shoes. And soon? His underwear. Please Sutton take those off before you crawl into bed, I think to myself before dropping my eyes from one gorgeous thing to the other–my ring. I slide it up over my knuckle, then down again.
“On. It fits perfectly. I don’t think I’ll ever take it off in my life. Like, ever,” I admit, extending my hand beneath themp on the bedside table, twisting and turning it beneath the light, coaxing out twinkles from the oversized stone.
The mattress dips as Sutton crawls over me, sliding his hands under the hem of my dress, his palms skating along the bare flesh of my thighs until they find my panties. He makes that groaning noise as he kisses me, celebratory champagne still voring his lips. Sutton tugs my panties off, and doesn’t even look at them before casting them to the floor, and reaching over me to click the light off.
His lips skate the harsh curve of my corbone as he nudges my legs apart with his knee. Traces of tonight’s celebration hang in the air–the champagne we enjoyed at the restaurant, the cigars that Geo and Sutton shared on the curb together after dinner, the whiskey Sutt and I sipped by the fire as soon as we got home, his cologne braided with the faint scent of his skin and sweat—all of it envelopes me, and emotions swarm.
“I love you, Sutt,” I tell him as he slips two strong fingers past my lips, sinking easily inside my eager body. “Ahh.” I can’t help the moan of appreciation that escapes me when he presses deep, curling them.
He kisses me everywhere as he warms me up with his fingers, bringing me to orgasm before he gets inside of me. That’s the first step in our lovemaking routine. Next, he’ll make mee on his cock–though he’d never put it in such terms. He will fuck me deep and slow, only letting the powerful, explosive strokes out when he’s close to orgasm. Then, he’ll explode inside me, twitching and groaning as he empties himself, and I’ll squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on the heat he gives me, and how good it feels. Then, we’ll exchange our adoration for each other, and after, we’ll brush our teeth and drink water, and go to sleep.
I alwayse multiple times when Sutton makes love to me, and I love nothing more than having his bare body over mine, feeling him throbbing, hungry toe inside me. But our lovemaking is fairly routine, which is why I can almost guess his next words as he brings his mouth to my chest, tugging my dress down enough to expose my strapless bra. He loves fucking me in my dress while he’s naked—I suppose it’s the kinkiest thing about Sutton Mercer.
“Are you ready for me, baby?” he asks while his lips roam the curved hem of my strapless bra. I fill my hands with his hair, and look into his storming eyes. Sutton drags my bra down, and with his eyes on me, sucks one stiff nipple into his mouth. Another one of his incinerating moans has me aching, and I press one hand to my belly, desperate to feel him there, thick and throbbing.
I nod, feeling my bun break free against the pillow. Sutton loves my messy hair after he makes love to me, and seeing the re of adoration in his eyes when he strokes fingers through it along the pillow makes me love it, too. “Yes,” I breathe, lifting my head just slightly to peer down between us. His naked, hardened body is on top of mine, and despite the fact that the lights are off, my eyes have adjusted, and I can see everything.
Sutton’s belly, thickened only by muscle with a trail of trimmed hair traveling to his groin. He shoves my dress up around my waist, and kisses each of my exposed nipples again before gripping his erection in his veiny hand. He looks up for his second confirmation, per usual, and I nod my head.
I remember the first time I made love to Sutton Mercer. It took us an hour to work him inside of me. I was a virgin, and Sutton is big. No matter how many times he has me, he still always makes sure it feels okay before he gets going.
I find my vision again in the darkness, blinking down between us as he grips himself at the base. There is nothing sexier than watching Sutton touch himself, but it’s rare that he lets me. The only time I was on the receiving end of the erotic experience of watching him masturbate, it was an ident. It was our first away trip, and we weren’t sleeping together yet. I got up in the middle of the night to use the restroom and I walked in on him stroking himself over the sink. I wanted nothing more than to be the sink—to fall to my knees in that hotel bathroom and let him pour his release down my throat while he lost himself in the pleasure I gave him.
Instead, I discovered that Sutton, despite his Adonis figure and gorgeous phallus, is private.
“That feel good, baby?” he asks, driving between my thighs, kissing the side of my throat as he drops his thumb to my clit. He doesn’t have to finger my clit when he makes love to me—I can probably orgasm just from feeling Sutton hard inside of me. But I don’t tell him not to, because the more of Sutton on me, touching me, tasting me and inside me—the better.
I nod my head. “You feel so good, Sutt.” My legs quiver all around him, and the muscle in my belly twitches as my eyes burn. He feels good, so good that I grow emotional with him inside me tonight, his ring on my finger, hisst name about to be mine.
He kisses my lips, then the tip of my nose, picking up his pace. His cock is slippery and hot, and every time his groin ps mine, I think I’m about toe. He doesn’t tell me to wait, and he doesn’t try to align our orgasms. Rather, he fucks me through it when I unravel beneath him within the first few pumps, and I cling to him, watching as hees undone inside me mere minutester.
I stroke the ends of his hair as he steadies his breathing, and after a few minutes where he softens and calms inside me, Sutton pulls out. We clean up in the bathroom together, and while we’re over the sink, brushing our teeth, I reach across and snap the waist of his gray sleeping pants. He got dressed in the dark bedroom before we went to the restroom. Per usual.
Sutton cocks an eyebrow in the mirror, minty foam in the corners of his mouth. “What?”
I look at my reflection in the mirror. Tied up in my white satin robe, the skin showing is flushed with arousal, even still. My blonde hair hangs in a tangles that used to be a bun, and there’s a smudge of mascara beneath each eye. I grab the tie at my waist, heart racing, and tug it open, exposing my naked body.
Sutton sizes me up before he bends at the waist, spitting and rinsing. Reaching, he takes me by the hips, intense gaze on mine as he reties my robe.
“You never want to sleep in the nude?” I ask, tone hampered by his reaction, trying to hide my disappointment that he covered me up. I don’t hold a huge desire to be nude. I like my body, but more than that, I like Sutton’s body, and merely the idea of sleeping next to him naked turns me on—unreasonably so.
Sutt wrinkles his nose and takes my hands in his, waffling our fingers. “No, I do not want to sleep in the nude. If there was ever an intruder, an emergency, a fire—” he tips his head to the side, studying me for a moment. “Why?”
I stare into his soulful hazel eyes. His cum slides down the inside of my thigh, and I know if I told him, he’d tell me to use the restroom and clean up–again. Instead, I bring my legs together and savor the warm stickiness in private. “No reason.”
We get into bed, and I stare at my ring in the moonlight. I’m now engaged to the sweetest, kindest, sexiest, smartest, most sessful man I know. He holds me until he falls asleep, and after he does, I reach between my legs, and ce my hand in the mess left behind, and drift off.