Page 24 of The Billionaire and the Nanny

“Never. But Ethan…”

“You can stop me if you don’t like it.” There. A little niceness. I want her to rely on me. I want her to know that if I’m demanding or controlling, it’s only because I have to act that way. I can be nice. I want her to know that. Pressing my tongue onto that puckered, dry entrance, I lick in long strokes, sliding my fingers into her pussy and rubbing her clit in small circles. “Does that feelgood?”

She can’t speak. Only moans and arches her back, pressing her ass into my face slightly more. I can’t tell she doesn’t want to love it. She doesn’t want to go “all bad” and admit that she loves my eating her ass, but I know that she does. She’s speechless, her mouth open in a roundO.

“Don’t hold back, Sweetness. I’m the one worshipping you. Feel it.” I go all out, licking her asshole, imagining myself entering her there, taking her completely. Making her mine. She is beauty, sex, love, and trust all at the sametime.

I must really want her to break down her walls this way. I must want her to see more of me aswell.

I’m tired of wondering why, and maybe it’s time I stop and just accept it. I want to spend more time with her. I want to fuck her every day that she’ll let me, and I want to eat this ass out until she screams. Because she loves it. Increasing the pressure on her clit, I rub her a different way until I hear her gasp, continue my tongue bath on her asshole, feeling it clench against me, feeling her legs tighten around my face, holding me in there, nearly keeping me from breathing, and then she’s coming again.

Hard and loud she screams into the shower mist, curls of steam billowing around her like she created the heat herself. I can’t take it anymore and whip her around, making her sit on the stone bench, while I kneel between her legs. Cradling her face in both my hands, I gaze into her eyes, as I enter her one more time, as she’s still coming. This is how I want to do it—watching her face and knowing that I satisfied her twice. That she needs me as much as I needher.

Waves of energy spike through me. I groan out loud, pressing my forehead against hers. I come with her, into her, through her. She is mine, and we are one. I spill my seed into her cunt, claiming it, pleasing it, pleasing her. Penelope watches me, draws my face in, and kisses me deeply. She understands more than I’m telling her. She’s comforting me like I’m made of haunted dreams, and maybe Iam.

She shushes me, but I didn’t even know I needed quieting.

All I know is that my chest heaves, and she can read my mind, what I’m feeling, thinking without saying a word. I’ve been through a lot in this life, and she seems to get it. How does she do it? It’s a long time before we move from the stone bench, where I collapse onto her body, cheek against breast, slender arms around me, fingers caressing myhair.

I almost don’t hear it, but then she sits up tensely, listening. “The baby is up. I should go,” she says, reaches for a towel, then begins to leave. At the door to the shower room, she pauses. Looks at me with worriedeyes.

“Go. I’ll befine.”

But I won’t. Because I see myself in her expression. Yes, Sweetness, I understand how you feel right now. I don’t know what the fuck is happening to us either.

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