Page 7 of The Billionaire's Desire

I turned my head slightly, not wanting my words to be muffled. "I want you inside me." I added fuel to the fire, swirling my hips against him and he let out an unsteady sigh.

I'd hoped he'd order me to the couch or my knees, but instead he growled, "What do you want inside? Be specific."

Was he asking me to talk dirty to him? I was both taken aback and even more aroused. Our moans had always been our words before. I worried I'd ruin it by saying something odd as my tongue rolled over the awkward bits.

"I want your...cock...inside of me."

"Inside of what?" he said, his voice tight with authority and white hot need.

My pulse raced. My body clenched. “You know.”

The look he was giving me told me he did…and he wasn’t letting me off that easy. Sucks, because I was surprised I’d even gotten the ‘c’ word out.

“Here.” I took my finger and pushed it inside myself, feeling my body flutter around the digit.

It must have been close enough because I heard him unzipping his pants.

I made a C curve with my back and I couldn't help but groan as I felt him draw the head of his passion up and down my slit.

"Is this what you want?"

It was exactly what I wanted, but I needed it inside. "Please Jacob…"

He entered me with a savage thrust, gripping me as he drove so deep in my channel that I saw stars. He abandoned control and surrendered to the need that rocked us both.

Just when I felt like I could go no further, take no more, he’d bury himself deeper inside of me. And then I was back, in the thick of it, scrambling to consume him. To take every swollen inch.

The sound of our damp skin slapping together met with the groans and his thrusts changed, his grip lacking any finesse. He was holding onto me for dear life. Lost in me. He let out the words, the permission for my release, but I waited until I felt him shuddering, filling me, and then I closed my eyes and let go.

We stayed exactly as we were for a long time after we were done. My back to his chest, his arms pulling me close, tighter, like he couldn’t get me quite close enough.

****

It had been a full twenty-four hours since I said yes and tonight, Jacob and I were announcing our engagement officially to Megan and my parents.

Jacob hired a planner to set things up and make sure everything went off without a hitch and she’d done a great job. She’d made sure the catered food was on time and set up in such a way that it was like we’d copied a table from the restaurant and pasted it in our dining room. She’d brought in some mood lighting that sent a warm glow over the main room. I didn’t think it was possible to make the place look more breathtaking but the small pieces she’d come with--a tower light, a few vases, fresh flowers, and a glass sculpture that created a flow in the living room--just magnified the beauty of the space.

Still, I hovered, wiping invisible wrinkles from the tablecloth, straightening silverware, so nervous and jittery I felt like I’d jump out of my bones.

When I did a circle and went to rearrange the flowers, she stepped in my path, giving me a tight smile. “Miss Montgomery, I appreciate the help and input, but I’ve got it under control.”

My cheeks warmed and I fiddled with my earring. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

And so far, it was. I was still shocked that my mother hadn’t called me last night, furious that the internet knew I was engaged before she did. And even though I’d called Megan when Jacob and I got back from the cabin and squeed for a few minutes, I still felt like this was the real deal. It wouldn’t be ‘official’ until Jacob and I stood up in front of the people I loved and told them we were spending the rest of our lives together.

I saw a napkin slightly off center and sidestepped her. “I’m just gonna--”

“--Join me in the kitchen,” Jacob finished for me, descending down the stairwell. One arched eyebrow made me clamp my mouth shut and give him a guilty nod.

I walked over to him, perking when I saw him brandish a bottle of red wine. He pulled out a single glass and poured the burgundy liquid in, filling it nearly to the rim.

“What are you implying?” I said, feigning insult.

“That you need to relax,” he answered with a chuckle. “Clarissa Stone does this for a living, Leila. The whole point of hiring her was so we wouldn’t stress.”

I rolled my eyes and took the glass. “I’m not stressing.” When he cleared his throat in a ‘you’re full of crap’ way, I added, “Much.”

I held the wine in my mouth, swishing it around before I swallowed, savoring the notes and bite as it went down.

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