Page 103 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

“Careful,” he warns, but the threat dissolves into a groan as I knead the suds lower, the soap catching in the dark trail beneath his navel. His cock jerks when I skim it with my knuckles, veins standing taut under my curious touch. “Ava—”

“Just cleaning,” I echo, dragging my palm slowly up his length, marveling at the velvet-steel of him. His hips stutter forward, chasing friction, but I step back, admiring my work. All that power, trembling forme.

He turns suddenly, caging me against the wall again, his arousal pressing into my belly. “Teasing’s a dangerous game.”

“Is it now?” I rise onto my toes, nipping his jaw. “You started it.”

I feel powerful suddenly, despite his physical dominance. He wants me just as badly as I want him. Billionaire Gideon King, who could haveanyone, wants paint-splattered, neurotic art student Ava.

I sink to my knees before him, the marble cool against my skin. His eyes widen, pupils dilating as he watches me.

“Ava, I don’t think you can—”

“Handle you?” I say with a sly smile. I look up at him through the water streaming down my face. “We’ll see.”

He tangles his fingers in my wet hair, not directing, just connecting. I take him in my hand first, wrapping my fingers around his impressive girth. His cock is huge, both in length and thickness, and for a moment I really doubt I can handle him.

I start with a tentative lick, learning the taste and feel of him. The pre-cum is salty. Hot. His sharp intake of breath encourages me, and I become more bold, taking the head into my mouth. His fingers tighten in my hair, not painful but definitely present.

“Christ, Ava,” he groans above me. “Your hot little mouth is going to make me cum.”

Pride surges through me at his reaction. I can’t take all of him. That would be physically impossible unless I’ve suddenly developed the ability to unhinge my jaw like a snake. But I use my hand in tandem with my mouth, creating a rhythm that has his breathing turning ragged.

I glance up, wanting to see his face, and the sight nearly undoes me. His head is thrown back, water streaming down his chest, muscles tensed with restraint. His abs stand out like a washboard, and his pecs look like glorious slabs. His eyes are closed, lips parted, every line of his face etched with the pleasure that I’m giving him.

For this moment, I have all thepower. Me, Ava Redwood—no, AvaKing—on my knees but completely in control of this powerful man.

The thought is intoxicating, but short-lived. Suddenly he snaps back to reality and roughly pulls me to my feet.

“Not like that,” he says, voice raw. “I want to be inside you when I cum.”

The words send a fresh pulse of heat through me. He turns off the water and grabs towels, drying us both with surprising tenderness given the urgency thrumming between us. We leave a trail of damp footprints across the bedroom floor, neither of us willing to fully break contact.

We reach his bed. It’s massive, like everything else in his life. He lays me down with a gentleness that contrasts with the hunger in his eyes. For a moment, he just looks at me, sprawled across his sheets, and I fight the urge to cover myself.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice silences my inner critic for once.

He joins me on the bed, his body covering mine, and the weight of him is both comforting and exciting. He finds a condom, and I watch him roll it on. There’s just something so hot about watching this sexy hunk of a man rolling on a condom just for me, a condom he’s going to fuck me with.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Please,” I beg.

When he finally pushes inside me, the stretch and fullness of his cock draws a gasp from my lips. He pauses, giving me time to adjust.

I instantly wrap my legs around his waist to draw him deeper.

He grins. “You dirty little slut. You want this even more than I do, don’t you?”

“I want you so bad,” I agree.

“Then beg,” he orders.

“Please fuck me,” I tell him.

“Say my name,” he says.

I look defiantly into his eyes. I can see the need there in his gaze, just as obvious as my own. I know he wants this, maybe even more than I do, and yet he has the restraint to hold back. To make me beg.

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