Page 8 of The Billionaire's Princess

“You should’ve warned me,” I mutter.

“You’re a big boy.” She eyes my crotch, where the world’s hardest dick strains for her the way those giant magnets strain for old cars in a demolition yard. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“I will be fine.” I undo my belt and zipper. Toe off my shoes and toss my wallet onto the nightstand. Take her face between my hands and give her a languid kiss, teasing her with the slow stroke of my tongue. My reward for managing half an ounce of self-control? The way her head falls back, and her eyes roll closed as she groans. “But that’s all the foreplay you get this time. Sorry.”

“Thank God,” she says, shimmying for me when I reach under her dress’s hem to ease her panties down her long legs. “I’m dying here.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

I rip the covers back, scoop her up and toss her into the middle of the bed, exactly where I want her. Her squeal of delight thrills me. As does the way she eagerly levers up on her elbows to wait for me.

“Pull your skirt up.”

Holding my gaze, she complies by bending one leg, digging that heel into the mattress and executing a sexy little hip wiggle that’s the most riveting thing I’ve ever seen. Then she takes her time about pulling her skirt up just enough to reveal a glimpse of the manicured patch of hair that proves she’s a natural redhead.

“That’s enough.”

She stops, perfectly willing to let me look all I want.

And what a view it is.

Her pussy is plump and beautiful, glistening with her juices and ready for me. But I trail my fingers through her slick cleft anyway, savoring both her feminine coo of pleasure and my corresponding power over her.

I just hope she never discovers that she has the power to make my pulse pound and my throat tighten until it’s a wonder I can even breathe.

“Last chance,” I say, reaching for my wallet and desperately hoping I have more than one condom inside it.

“I don’t want any chances. I want you to hurry up and fuck me.”

Just in case the raw need in her voice doesn’t drive the point home, she reaches down to touch herself, resuming where I just left off.

I make a sound of utter disbelief. How did I get this lucky tonight? Will I also find a bar of gold under my pillow when I wake up in the morning? I never take my eyes off her as I blindly fumble my way through nudging my boxer briefs aside and rolling the condom on.

Then I grab her hips and yank her flat, exactly the way I want her. I stretch out on top of her and settle between her legs. She eagerly accepts my weight, exactly the way I knew she would. Eagerly helps herself to my ass and digs in with her nails to pull me closer. Eagerly cocks her hips.

I expected her to do all of that, yet she somehow manages to surpass every expectation.

She’s fire and magic. And nothing about this interlude is normal or regular.

I grip my dick and rub it back and forth against the hard nub of her clit, lubricating myself with her cream. I take a moment to stare into her shimmering eyes, glazed now with her lust for me, and regret the fact that we’re not skin to skin because I was far too impatient to bother with all these clothes.

Next time,I promise myself.

But right now, my entire existence centers on fucking Carly until she can’t shout my name hard enough to keep up with her orgasm.

A single hard thrust. Then I’m buried deep inside her.

We both stiffen and cry out, taking a beat or two to adjust. To breathe. She arches, her body straining with need and ready to writhe against me.

“I want you to move,” she whispers.

“Not so fast, tiger,” I murmur, propping myself on my elbows and locking my hips in place because I know it’ll enhance her experience. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so tight?”

A shaky laugh from Carly.

“I’m not the problem. Your giant cock is.”

“That’s the kind of thing I like to hear,” I say, lacing our hands together on either side of her head as I begin to surge.

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