Page 11 of The Billionaire's Beauty

He takes over without further encouragement, massaging me into a frenzy. I’ve always been the type of person who didn’t want to get too loud in bed for fear of disturbing her roommate down the hall but now, once again, we seem to be making up for lost time. My cries pitch higher when he circles my nipples with his thumbs. Higher still when he abandons my breasts and takes my thighs in his firm grip, hiking me up as though I didn’t weigh a healthy one thirty-five on the doctor’s dreaded scale the last time I was in for a checkup. By the time I wrap my legs around his waist and he helps himself to my ass on his way to swinging me around and heading for the bed, I sound fully qualified for a role in some adult film.

I don’t care. I’ve waited too long for this moment to ruin it with inhibitions.

Besides, I seriously doubt he’d ever settle for any other reaction from a lover of his.

I stare down at his face, which is flushed and heavy-lidded with passion, and brush my hair out of my eyes so I can get a good look at him and savor this moment out of time. His body is hot. Hard. Imposing. His wavy hair, which I’ve always itched to touch, maybe smoothing it away from where it falls across his forehead, is wiry but still soft. The blue flame in his eyes burns brighter than usual as he looks up at me. There are striations in them, alternating kaleidoscopes of black and white. His lips are dewy. Swollen from my kisses.

His expression as he lowers me to the bed?

Turbulent. Determined, with the lines of his jaw tightened down. Beyond that? His mood is as impenetrable to me as the Batcave or Wakanda.

He undoes his buttons and sheds his cuff links with unsteady hands as he watches me ease up onto my elbows, then jerks his way out of his shirt. The T-shirt goes next, revealing a delicious swath of that tan skin and muscles that are chiseled and generous without being bulky. He has a dusting of corn-silk hair that tapers through the ladder rungs of his abs—he’s got notched hips, I notice with keen interest, although this is no real surprise because he hits the gym at the crack of dawn every morning—and disappears below his belt.

A belt that he now unfastens with lightning speed before tackling his zipper and shoving pants, boxers and socks down his legs and off.

To my immense relief.

I’m dying to see exactly what he’s got in store for me, and I’m not shy about looking.

I get my chance when he straightens and, turning, extracts a condom before tossing his wallet onto the nightstand. His ass? Stellar. His thighs? Powerful. As for his jutting dick, it’s long, thick and ruddy as it emerges from a neat thatch of his sandy hair, with a perfect plum of a head. Everything a lucky woman like me could want. I can’t wait to feel it inside me, and he can’t wait to give it to me. Not if the speed with which he gets that condom on is any indication.

Finally he’s ready. We reach for my lacy lavender bikinis together, and I wiggle my way out of them. He pitches them off the side of the bed and starts to join me before getting distracted by the sight of my bare pussy. He lets out a serrated breath and shakes his head as he swiftly looks me up and down, giving me the feeling that he thinks he’s the luckiest man in the world.

God knows I’m the luckiest woman.

Since this type of delay is not okay with me, I start to reach for him. He has other ideas. Shooting a dark look of intent up the length of my body, the trails his fingertips over my torso and takes care to dip them into my belly button, making my hips spasm. Then he lowers his head and gives me a single lingering nuzzle of a kiss that somehow manages to spark every nerve ending in my body. My back arches while the world dims around me and I try to drag some air into my lungs.

But there’s no time for more kisses down below.

He stretches out on top of me, staring me in the face as he settles his weight on his elbows. He’s heavy. Thrilling. The exquisite sensation of all this skin-to-skin contact overwhelms me and empties my lungs of that last little bit of air, making me gasp. I drag my hands across those rippling shoulders and up into his hair, savoring the feel of him. It belatedly occurs to me that I’m still wearing my stupid strapless bra, and I reach between us, trying to unclasp it. He’s right there with me, yanking it off and pausing to rub his palms across my nipples. Some crazy hissing sound of encouragement darts past my lips, and he’s only too happy to oblige, working me into a frenzy.

I shift beneath him, getting my hips into place beneath the hard length of his dick. In case he still isn’t getting the picture, I cock them and wrap one of my legs around his thigh.

Message received.

He eases up just enough to reach between us and take himself in hand before stoking that sizable head against my slick cleft. I don’t see how I could possibly be any hotter or wetter for him, but I guess he wants to make sure I’m ready.

I’m here to tell you: I’m ready.

He enters me in a single driving thrust. I cry out, shocked by the intensity of the friction between us. So is he, evidently. We stare at each other for one arrested second, our mouths open while we try to get used to each other and my body eases to accommodate him. He keeps his hips locked, waiting for a signal from me.

I give it to him in the form of a faint smile as I scratch my nails up his back and let my eyes roll closed.

That’s all he needs. He begins to move with long and rhythmic strokes that are naturally placed to hit my sweet spot. Every. Single. Time. We fit together perfectly, me arching beneath him and wrapping my legs around his waist as the pleasure spirals lower inside me and concentrates between my thighs. Swear to God, I could live and die like this. I don’t need food, water or anything else. Just the magic of our bodies twined together.

I want to savor this moment until our hips give out, but he kisses me again, putting a quick end to that plan. The lush sweep of his tongue into my mouth is more than I can take. My body reaches its tipping point, and the orgasm roars over me and pours out of me on a single high note of astonishment. I stiffen, waiting for the pleasure to wring me dry while he strokes my thigh and murmurs something I can’t quite catch.

He goes very still, making me hesitant to open my eyes because I know he’s watching me. Worse, I know I’m wearing that sultry glow of a woman who’s just had her brains fucked out by a man who now possesses ownership of her body. But I don’t even care. I need to see him.

So I flick my heavy lids open and discover him right there, his gaze steady and his eyes purest blue flame. Wonder of wonders, a sensual smile even curves his delicious lips before he dips his head for another kiss.

But then he picks up his rhythm again.

By now we’re sweaty. Animalistic. Each of his pumps sends a zing of electricity through my belly and makes me gasp and/or groan. His noises are guttural as he works toward his release. Unabashed. He plants his hands on my head and pulls my hair in his frenzy. Thrusts his tongue deeper into my mouth. Smacks my thigh. Grips my ass. Finally calls out my name and goes rigid as he presses his face into the hollow between my neck and shoulder, shuddering against me.

And shuddering and shuddering and shuddering.

I laugh, triumphant and undone.

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