Page 57 of The Billionaire's Princess

With that, the maestro picks up his baton and plays me a symphony. His magical hands start at my shoulders and work every tired muscle with strong, rhythmic squeezes. He finds and loosens knots that I didn’t know I had, eliciting X-rated groans of pleasure from me. I know I sound like some manic adult entertainment star, but I swear I can’t help myself when he gets anywhere near me. He attends to my back, arms and fingers. He leans into my thighs and kneads my calves until my bones turn to molten gold, no doubt ruining my ability to ever walk again. Not that I care. He gets hold of my feet and exploits hidden pressure points that send zings of electrifying sensation directly to my pussy. He takes a battering ram to all my body’s tensions, leaving me both relaxed and energized. Reborn.

And then…

The towel slowly slips down the length of my body, further sensitizing my overheated flesh with its nubbly texture as it trails over my thighs and the backs of my knees and disappears.

My shiver of anticipation turns to an adrenaline surge when a long moment of nothing follows. He’s far too quiet. Far too still. And I know this is going to be good.

What can I say? When I’m right, I’m right.

His fingers gently brush aside a few strands of hair from my neck, then his mouth makes its grand entrance for the evening. It nips and nuzzles its way to the special place where neck curves into shoulder. I coo helplessly, a sexual puppet dancing on the end of his string. That’s intense enough. But then his mouth firms, his tongue enters the picture and I lose my fucking mind.

I don’t even know how to describe what he does to me, and it’s even more intense because no other part of his body touches me. To say that he kissed my neck would be like saying oceans tend to be damp. And of course Damon Black never does anything halfway. He’s probably genetically incapable of doing anything halfway. He…he…makes love to that tender hollow, the secret bundle of nerve endings that’s the key to any woman’s secret garden if her partner only takes the time to turn it.

And I sob with ecstasy. Tears and everything. Something—let me assure you—I’ve never done before.

Until his mouth skates up to my ear, his voice hoarse. Urgent. “You know I want to fuck you, princess.”

“Fuck me,” I whisper desperately, still lost amid my ugly cry. “Please.”

There’s no further warning. Just the rough grip of his hands on my hips as he both pulls me up to all fours and drags me to the edge of the bed. Rarely has a woman cocked her hips and spread herself wide with such abandon. It’s as though someone has set a doomsday clock on me and I will meet my ultimate destruction unless he is buried to the hilt inside me within the next second.

Eager to oblige, he enters me with a single hard thrust that makes us both cry out. He pumps relentlessly, his hard body slapping against mine exactly the way I need it to. His cock unerringly hitting the exact right spot inside me. I bear down, tightening all my inner muscles around him and laughing when he groans helplessly. But retaliation is swift. One of his hands leaves my hips and heads straight to my dangling breasts for an endless round of squeezing and nipple rubbing. His other hand? Straight to the vee between my legs, where his strong fingers exert the exact right pressure on my clit.

He punctuates every thrust with a mantra whispered in his ragged voice.

“I missed you, Carly… Missed you… Missed you.”

He gives me everything he’s got, and I reward him with a strangled shout as I experience the biggest, brightest, longest and most electrifyingly intense orgasm of my life.

He joins me immediately, my name pouring out of his mouth as our bodies spasm together. There’s a suspended moment out of time where we linger in the sensation, wringing every drop of pleasure from each other’s bodies before we collapse together. The end result? Me on my belly with him still inside me and his arms still around me. Him half on top of me. Both sets of legs sticking off the side of the bed.

I don’t know how long we lie there before both a chill and my sudden embarrassment set in. All I know is that he suddenly pulls away and stands. I take the opportunity to hastily wipe away the tears lingering on my cheeks, cover myself with the sheet and try to find some composure.

But composure is thin on the ground today.

For a second, I think he’s going to leave without a word, which is fine with me. I need a minute to catch my breath and process what just happened, because whatever it was? It wasn’t normal. It’s not normal for me to give and lose myself with such wild abandon, even when Damon touches me. It’s not normal for me to experience this searing certainty that my life has irrevocably changed, and the old Carly is gone forever, for good or for bad. Because I’ll be the happiest woman in the world if he sticks around. And the pathetic image of heartbreak if he doesn’t.

But he pauses at the door. Hesitates without looking directly at me, no more eager to make eye contact at this awkward moment than I am.

“You’ll be okay,” he says quietly.

“What?” I say, startled because I think for one horrified beat that he’s just read my mind.

“With your, ah, plan. To, ah, sell your art. You’re amazing. You’re going to do great. With my help or without it. No doubt in my mind. And I didn’t mean to, ah, come on too strong.”

This unqualified endorsement and near-apology catch me completely off guard. I risk a glance at his face. Our gazes connect for one blistering second, during which I somehow manage to notice everything about him. His sweaty face and torso, high color and unreadable eyes. The remnants of his erection, which leave his cock ruddy and engorged. The shell-shocked expression that perfectly mirrors what I’m feeling inside.

And I have to wonder whether his half-apology refers to his unsolicited career help or what just happened in this bed.

Either way, I discover that I don’t need to hear it. I also discover that it’s too soon for me to look him in the face.

“It’s okay,” I say, quickly turning away to adjust the pillows behind me.

There’s a pause. He clears his throat.

“I’m just going to, ah…”

He trails off, his footsteps retreating down the hallway to the bathroom.

Leaving me to collapse on the bed stare up at the ceiling and wonder if I’ve been foolish enough—and rash enough—to fall crazy in love with a man I’m only just beginning to know.

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