All Chapters of After The Divorce: Ex-Husband Regrets And Begs Me: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

CELESTINE'S POV:Two months pass and I do not know where the time goes because every day bleeds into the next and every night is spent in Lysander's arms and I have never been happier, not once in my whole entire life, not even as a child before I knew what heartbreak felt like.We are inseparable, Lysander and I. He goes to London for meetings and I go with him, sitting in the outer office with a book while he does whatever it is that billionaires do to make more billions, and when he comes out he always finds me first, his eyes searching the room until they land on me, and then he smiles that small goofy smile that he only ever gives to me.I have met his business partners, men and women in expensive suits who look at me with curiosity and speculation, trying to figure out what the cold, distant, untouchable Lysander Ashcroft sees in me. They do not say anything, of course. They are too polite and too afraid of him to say anything. But I can see the questions in their eyes, and I do

CELESTINE'S POV: It's messy and hot, his mouth devouring mine between thrusts, swallowing my gasps, one hand braced on the bench arm for leverage, the other kneading my breast through the half-open bodice, pinching the nipple. The roses brush our sides, petals catching in my hair, their perfume mixing with the musky scent of sex, our sweat, the earthy tang of him. He's relentless, pace picking up, hips snapping harder now, the bench rocking dangerously. "Look at you," he pants, eyes locked on where we're joined, watching his cock disappear into me over and over. "Taking me so good. My perfect girl, clenching like you never want me out." I don't. God, I don't. Pleasure coils tight in my belly, building fast with every plunge, my clit grinding against his pubic bone on each grind. My hands roam, clawing his back, fisting his hair, urging him on. But the bench betrays us, too goddamn narrow, our rhythm off from the awkward angle. He's leaning in heavy, chasing deeper, and suddenly the

CELESTINE'S POVThe Valancourts and Ashcrofts throw a joint engagement party at the Dorchester Hotel in London.I thought it would be a small gathering, maybe a few dozen family members and close friends, the type of intimate party where everyone knows everyone and the champagne flows freely and there is a toast or two and then everyone goes home by midnight. That is what I told Lysander when he asked me what I wanted. Something simple. Something that would not attract too much attention.Lysander had laughed at me playfully . "Darling," he said, "the Valancourts and the Ashcrofts have not had a wedding in thirty years. The last one was my parents. The one before that was your parents. People have been waiting for this for decades. This is not going to be small. This is going to be the social event of the season, and you are going to be the center of it, and you are going to be magnificent."He was right, of course. He is always right about these things.The hotel ballroom is transfo

CELESTINE’S POV: Vivienne's smile flickers. Camille's face goes red. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your... fiancé?" Camille says, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "We are practically family, after all. I have always thought of you as a sister, Celestine. You know that." I almost laughed. Almost. But I do not. I just look at her, at the woman who laughed at me behind my back, who made cruel jokes about my accent and my clothes and my inability to pronounce wine names. "You have never thought of me as a sister, Camille," I say. "You thought of me as a joke. You laughed at me for three years. You made me feel small and worthless and stupid. And I let you. But I am not letting you anymore. So please, do me a favor, and take your false smiles and your fake affection and leave me alone." Camille's mouth falls open. Vivienne's eyes go wide. They are not used to this. They are not used to me pushing back. They are used to the old Celestine, the one who smiled and nodded an

CELESTINE'S POV: "Yours," I gasp out, cheeks burning, clit twitching under his gaze. "All yours, Lysander—please—" "Good fucking girl." First, he kisses my inner thigh, soft, teasing, then bites up the sensitive skin, little nips that make me squirm and drip more. That first lick though... flat tongue dragging...that lazy bastard Kier wouldn't even look down there unless he was fumbling for his own quick pump-and-dump in the dark. Left me high and dry every time, clenching around nothing, feeling like trash for wanting a real touch. Lysander? He feasts like a man possessed. Tongue dives right into my hole first, fucking in and out sloppy-wet, lapping up my slick like it's nectar. "Taste so goddamn sweet," he groans against me, the vibration hitting my clit like a spark. Then he pulls back, circles the swollen bud slow, teasing flicks, tight little swirls, before flattening his tongue broad and dragging hard over it again and again till my thighs quake. "Oh fuck, Lysander!" My han