Page 35 of The Billionaires' Prize

I cup his cheek. “Make love to me, King.”

The sound that comes out of him isn’t even human. A delicious mix of angelic and animalistic, it skates along my nerve endings, teasing me as well as any amount of foreplay could.

I squeal as he scoops me up, dunking us beneath the showerhead as my thighs grip his hips. We’re both breathing hard as the bubbles wash down the drain.

“Gladly,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth. Then he spins and lowers himself to the bench seat.

I brace my knees on either side of his hips. The tiles bite at my knees, but I don’t care. This is exactly what I’ve always imagined in this shower. Air thick with humidity, using this for something other than shaving my legs.

But I never realized how great it’d feel to actually have him beneath me, all his hard muscles holding me tight. And I could have never imagined the hard length of him or how good it’d feel slotted against my clit like it was made to bring me pleasure.

Suddenly, I’m emotional, tears welling in my eyes as I cling to his shoulders.

Trust him to see them. To know me well enough that he can see the instant my mood shifts.

“What’s wrong?”

Knowing how hard it is to admit feelings, I force them out. I’m never going soft on him again.

I shake my head, smiling as I blink back the tears. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Dreamed of you. Of us.”

“Me too.”

“I’m just so. . .” I search for the right word. “Happy. Overwhelmed.”

He leans in, stealing a kiss. “Same.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I lift up, and his cock slips between my lips as if it’s got GPS. I suck in a breath and feel him smile.

His hands tighten on my hips, bringing me down onto him just enough to stretch me. I gasp, and he swallows the sound, licking along my bottom lip.

I tease him back with my tongue and will my body to relax. He slides deeper, and I immediately need more. I need everything. My nipples graze his chest, wanting attention. In fact, every inch of skin suddenly feels needy.

I wasn’t kidding when I said I like to be touched.

It’s my love language.

And since I grew up in a decidedly not touchy-feely household, the last few days have been heaven.

“Damn, Kat.” He groans, tugging me down on his cock. A hand slides up to cup my breast, then he squeezes my nipple.

A flood of moisture eases his way into my pussy. I nibble my way down his jaw and then lift up, biting my lower lip because the friction is so, so good.

Making love to him is transcendent. Like he’s taking me apart on a cellular level, only to rearrange me as he puts me back together.

“So wet,” he grinds out as I take him deeper.

Even though I’m super slick, it’s slow going because my earlier orgasm made me tight and sensitive. But Kingston is the ultimate gentleman, letting me drive the pace.

But I can tell it’s costing him.

A tendon stands out between his neck and shoulder. His lashes flutter closed.

Finally, my ass lands in his lap, and we both groan as he stretches me. I’m so full, I feel him all the way up to my belly button.

His head drops back against the tile, and I swoop in, kissing every inch I can. “Yes.”

I hum against his skin. Not enough. Not close enough. Not enough friction. With a whimper, I pull away, rearranging myself on his lap and bracing my hands against his shoulders.

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