All Chapters of Black Ties and White Lies: A Billionaire Fake Engagement: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

Emma doesn’t respond. She pulls away from me and pulls Gram into a hug.“Thank you all for inviting me tonight. I had so much fun.” She and Gram stay locked in the embrace as Emma continues to talk. “And thank you for sharing all the stories. It was so special to hear about Joseph.”Gram closes her eyes and gives Emma one final squeeze before letting go. “No, thank you, sweet girl. I haven’t laughed as much as I did tonight in I don’t know how long. It might be the most fun I’ve had since Joseph passed, and that’s all because of you.”Gram’s words make Emma blush. She swats at the air, trying to take the attention away from herself. “All I did was ask you to dance.”Gram cups both of Emma’s cheeks, forcing her to meet her eyes. “No one’s asked me to dance in a long time, my dear. And that’s why it meant so much.”I can’t look away as Emma and Gram share a few more words before Peyton jumps in to also say goodbye to Emma. I watch the interactions, wondering how Emma only met my family

Something about being on the same page about wanting each other but knowing it could never go further makes everything seem even more exciting.It takes me a few minutes to leave the doorway and shut the door. It’s only when I get to my room and pull out my phone to record an update for my followers that I realize the smile still plastered on my lips.I press record immediately, wanting to capture the moment as best I can.“So, I’m back from the party,” I begin, focusing on my face on the screen. My cheeks are flushed, and there are only slight remnants of the lip liner I applied hours ago. I think through all the different things I could say about the day I had, but some details I want to keep close to my chest for now. “And it turns out garden parties are a blast. I need to find a way to attend them more often.”For the next couple of minutes, I recount the day, leaving out the juiciest details. To keep Preston’s name private, I nicknamed him “Sports Guy” and left out the names of h

Fucking hell.“Preston.” My name comes out cautious. It catches at the end, and I don’t know if the way my name leaves her mouth is a good or bad thing.“What were you doing in here?” I ask, my voice hoarse with lust. In a few simple moments, she’s turned me on more than I’ve ever been, and I haven’t even touched her. The sight of the wetness between her legs, paired with the mental picture of her using the vibrator to get herself off, has me going mad.“You know the answer to that,” she whispers, shifting her weight on the bed. “You weren’t supposed to come in.” She looks down, her fingers anxiously pulling on the fabric of her shirt.“Now isn’t the time to get shy on me, rebel.” My fingers tighten around the vibrator as it takes everything in me to stay where I am instead of taking a step closer to her. If it were up to me, I’d already have her thighs spread open as I show her that her mouth isn’t the only thing I can kiss well.“Sorry, I haven’t ever had someone catch me using a vi

He keeps his hand against my thigh while his other finally guides the vibrator to my clit. This time, he doesn’t tease me by only circling it once. He circles it again and again, finally giving me exactly what I want—except it still doesn’t feel like enough.“More,” I plead. My fingers grip the comforter as he inches just the tip of the toy into me.“So greedy. Am I not doing enough for you, rebel? Does it not feel good?”The moan that falls from my lips is loud and unapologetic. I’m so thankful no one is in this house but the two of us because I’ve never felt so many delicious sensations at once—and it feels like he’s barely even begun.“It feels good, so good that I need more.”He inches the vibrator in a little further. His knuckle brushes against me in the process, making me moan all over again. “Like this?” he asks, sliding it in and out.All I can do is nod. I want to keep my eyes open so I can watch the intense way he focuses on every single one of my reactions, but everything

I follow her through the door and into the kitchen. Her hips sway in a taunting rhythm as she walks to the kitchen counter. Her blonde hair is pulled into a ponytail, the curled strands brushing the back of her neck with every step she takes.“The outfit is great, but how am I supposed to focus on teaching you tennis when I know what you’re hiding underneath that skirt?” I set the food on the counter and lean a hip against it. She stares at me from a few feet away, her lips pursed as if she doesn’t like my response.“It’s not my responsibility to make sure you—or anyone else—can focus because of what I’m wearing. You have to wear a tennis skirt to play tennis—it’s like a golden rule. Plus, I already got the green light from my best friends that the outfit looks good. Your opinion doesn’t matter.” She winks at me, and it’s the cutest thing ever.“You have a point there. But I don’t want to hear any grumpy comments from you when I undoubtedly want to snarl like a goddamn caveman at any