Page 55 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

With hurried, clumsy movements, I kick off my heels, letting them thud against the plush carpet. My hands fumble to slide down my soaked panties, peeling them away with an urgency that leaves my skin tingling. They join my shoes somewhere in the room, discarded evidence of our reckless abandon.

My fingers wrestle with the zipper at the back of my dress, but it's a stubborn adversary, refusing to yield. Then, suddenly, warmth radiates from behind me, and I freeze as Liam's deft fingers brush mine aside.

He pulls down the zipper with one fluid motion, and a gasp shudders out of me, not just from his touch, but from the realization that he's shed his clothes too—his bare chest pressing against my back, searing through the thin fabric of my dress.

"Better?" His voice rumbles like distant thunder, close enough to send tremors through me.

"So much better," I whisper back, my breath hitching as I feel the undeniable hardness of him nudging against me, insistent and promising.

The tension coils within me, tighter and tighter—more than anticipation, more than desire. It's a necessity, raw and unfiltered, pulling me toward the precipice once again.

Shrugging off the long sleeves of my dress, I let the fabric pool at my feet, a silent surrender to the inevitable. The air is cool on my flushed skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Liam's body as he circles the bed.

The faint rustle of the to-go bag follows him, an oddly domestic sound in the midst of our charged atmosphere. Curiosity nips at me, but it's quickly eclipsed by my racing heart and shallow breaths.

"Look at me, Shiloh."

His command is soft, almost gentle, yet it carries an authority that has me obeying without question. I look up to find Liam, now the very picture of raw masculinity against the crisp white of his pillows.

He's leisurely stroking himself, eyes locked on me with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. He's every inch the powerful billionaire who commands boardrooms, yet here, he seems to command even more—my will, my body, my very soul.

"Come here." His voice is a low drawl, heavy with desire.

He pats his thigh—an invitation or perhaps a summons—as if he's carved out a place just for me. There's no hesitation left in me; my feet sink into the plush carpet as I move toward the bed, drawn to him by a force greater than gravity.

I climb onto the mattress, the smooth sheets beneath me a stark contrast to the storm raging inside. Liam's gaze doesn't waver, darkening with an unspoken promise that sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

"Sit," he says, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonates through me like a command from on high.

I close the distance between us, positioning myself over him. The heat from his body beckons me closer, inviting me to merge with him once again.

My heart thunders in my ears, drowning out all else—the world beyond this room, the consequences of our actions, everything but the singular focus of the man before me, and the inevitable collision course we're on.

I straddle his legs, my breath hitching as I lower myself onto him. A moan escapes me, unbidden but honest, as I'm filled again by him. Every inch of him inside me stirs a blend of familiarity and fresh desire that courses through my veins.

"God, Shiloh," he mutters, his hands on my hips guiding me, encouraging me to take what we both need. "The sounds you make... I needed you naked in my bed for them, not at some damn restaurant."

A playful smirk dances on his lips as he leans back against the pillows, propped up by his elbows. His eyes are locked onto mine, a silent challenge, a dare to break away from the intensity of our connection. But I can't—I won't—not when every fiber of my being is tethered to his.

Then, breaking our gaze for a moment, Liam reaches for the to-go box, an accessory to this hedonistic feast we've indulged in. I watch, fascinated and flushed with heat, as he pops the lid open.

"Let's see how you taste with a hint of sweetness," he says, his voice rough like gravel, yet slick with the promise of pleasure.

He fishes out a spoonful of the dessert, some concocted delight that's nothing compared to the feast of sensations he offers. But as he brings the spoon to my lips, I part my lips for it like it's him I'm tasting all over again.

The cold sweetness invades my mouth, a stark contrast to the warmth he fills me with. I moan, and it's a sound born from thedepths of my pleasure—half for the way his cock throbs inside me and half for the burst of flavor against my tongue.

"Shiloh," Liam groans, and there's something about the way he says my name—it's like a key turning in a lock, unleashing something feral within him. "You're too fucking sexy. It's not fair... it's impossible how gorgeous you are." His eyes blaze with a hunger that goes beyond physical need, and it stirs a whirlwind of emotions within me.

I brace my hands against the hard planes of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart sync with mine.

"Liam," I pant out, the name coming out as a plea. "More, please."

His chest vibrates with a low chuckle, and I can feel the rumble all the way to where our bodies join. "I could never deny you anything." He gives me a look that's both commanding and giving, all at once.

And just like that, I'm soaring again on this endless loop of craving and fulfillment that only Liam can provide.

Liam's hand steadies, the silver plastic spoon coming to my lips once more. I barely notice the taste this time—my senses are too attuned to the feeling of him, the way he fills me so completely. But then a drop of ice cream slides from the spoon, trickling down my chin and onto my chest. It's cold, a stark contrast to the heat between us.

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