Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,96

The water sparkled like diamonds reflecting the sun, and it matched the spots blurring in my eyes.

The orgasm crashed over me, and I held my breath, chasing the pulsing pleasure to the point of almost blacking out. Soft flicks and sucking kisses brought me back to earth—back to Nico. Always back to Nico.

I collapsed to the side, and he pulled me in his arms, his face wet with my cum. “Do you want me to grab my towel?”

“Fuck, no. I want to wear you all day.”

I blushed, imagining my cum on his lips for everyone to see.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Verana. Your pussy is delicious. Have you ever tasted yourself?”

“No,” I whispered, holding my breath again, waiting for what he’d do next.

“That’s a shame. Let’s fix it.”

He leaned down and pressed his wet lips to mine, and I didn’t hesitate to open my mouth and let his tongue brush inside. A sweet tang burst on my tongue, and I think I was more addicted to the taste of myself on him than just me. I sucked his lips, nibbling them between my teeth.

“Now do you know why I offered to eat you out every day?”

“I figured it was just to torture me.”

“That too.”

I shoved him, and he laughed, pulling me back into his arms against his heated chest.

As if he hadn’t just made me see stars, he moved back to the conversation from earlier. “There’s a project with a newer company that Rush Shipping just acquired. I’d like you to take the lead under the guidance of Domenic.”

“What?” I pressed up against his chest, blinking down at him in shock.

“I’m not giving this to you because you suck cock like a pro.”

“Fuck you, Nico,” I laughed.

He winked. “We do this with lower levels of employees so they can see what it’s like and learn from the managers. I’ve found it encourages them to strive for more. Your resume is beyond what you’re doing at Rush, and you deserve more. I want to give you a chance to prove it.”

“Nico,” I whispered, his words validating everything I’d worked for. A lump formed in my throat, and I forced myself to swallow it down. All those years of hard work, hoping my father would see me—see I’m capable of more than just a trophy wife, and he never had. But Nico saw it. Nico saw me.

“It’s not your mother’s company, but it’s still in the shipping world, and maybe that can be a piece you hold on to of her.”

Tears blurred my vision, and another lump worked its way up. Staring down at this man who came out of nowhere and gave me something I’d always wanted, I knew.

I loved him.

Each day he challenged me, and I called it hate, but it also pushed me harder and forced me to grow. He did that for me like no one else had, and I loved him.

The words begged to be set free, but I couldn’t.

This marriage wasn’t born out of love, and just because I loved him, it didn’t mean anything had changed for him.

I shoved the words back down. “Thank you,” I choked out.

“You deserve it.”

And that right there was it. I didn’t want it given to me. I wanted to prove myself and have him see I was capable—and he did.

Worried my lips would open and spew words I wasn’t ready to say, I decided to put my mouth to work in other ways.

With nothing but the sun and the splash of the waves against the side of the boat, I returned the favor, using my tongue and lips, sucking his cock like a pro.

And when he filled my mouth with his cum, I swallowed and climbed up his body to let him taste himself on my tongue.

Anything to hold back the words that I worried would grow too big to hold back.

I just hoped when they finally broke free, Nico cared enough to let me love him.

Maybe even more than the five years we agreed on.

Maybe more like forever.

Thirty-One

Nico

Archer’s name flashed on my screen, and I stepped out of the bedroom to answer it away from Vera.

“Is it done?” I asked. Vera and I flew home tomorrow, and this takeover was cutting it close.

“The information you gave me helped, but the hiccup set us back.”

I cringed, remembering how I’d gotten the information from her. She’d been so lost in pleasure, she’d barely known all the details she’d admitted. But why would she care? I was her husband, and as far as