Page 111 of The Playboy Billionaire

CALEB

April shudders above me, her inner muscles clenching hard against my cock as she rides her orgasm. Her hands clenching at her breasts, squeezing her nipples.

I thrust into her, feeding the sensation, my fingers stimulating her swollen clit, driving her on.

I wait until she relaxes, my pace picking up, the pressure in my balls building until my muscles lock and my cock jerks, pumping my cum deep into her velvety pussy.

April’s mouth locks on mine. Her tongue teasing and tangling, trying to win the battle.

I roll us, the daybed on my roof terrace, still warm from the day’s sun. It was quite the surprise to find April sunning herself up here, her hair wet from using the pool. Her tiny bikini too tantalising to ignore. This is where I’m pleased I took the initiative to shelter the terrace from prying eyes from the neighbouring buildings.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” I say, nestling April into my chest. I'm still amazed at how well we fit and how freely sheallows me to do it. We’ve come a long way from sex with no snuggling until now.

“Hmm,” she says, dropping a kiss against my chest, nestling deeper. “The pool was calling to me,” she says sleepily. “The underground was hot and after a day of dancing.”

“You know you’re welcome to use it,” I say.

“I know, thank you.” She tilts her head up and drops a kiss onto my lips, but when she pulls back, there’s a crease between her brows.

I run my thumb over it.

“Want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” April tells me honestly.

I run a hand down her body, loving how she shivers as my fingers glide over her skin.

“How did you start dancing?” I ask, as she rests her head on my chest, her hand drawing lazy circles on my stomach.

“My last foster mum, Di, runs a dance school.” April pauses, and I let her. “I was twelve when I went to live with Di and Julian. My previous family decided they didn’t want to foster anymore. Their own children left home, and they wanted to travel.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, smoothing a hand over her hair.

“It is what it is. I kind of got used to moving. Foster care isn’t usually long term, so every three years I was moved.” She looks up at the sky, her mind wandering, before giving a small smile. “I made Di and Julian’s life hell for the first year. I was one angry pre-teen,” she admits.

“You tried to push them away.”

It’s a statement more than a question. The more I get to know April, the more I understand her defensive measures.

April chuckles. “I did. Tested them to the brink. It was only after I ran away for the fourth time and the police returned me in a police car, Di decided enough was enough.She made me join her at the dance studio every evening after school. All privileges revoked.”

“That must have been tough.”

I can’t imagine an angry, pre-teen April taking too kindly to being told what to do.

“It was, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Di showed me there was another way. Initially, I went to do my homework, but then during the holidays I began to watch. Di caught me practising some steps at home. By the time of my thirteenth birthday, I was joining her classes. Found I had an aptitude for dancing, and Di used that to her advantage. Taught me everything I know and more. I owe her everything.”

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” I say, smiling and hoping I’ll get to meet her one day.

“She is, they are,” she says looking up at me. “But at eighteen I had to leave their care. My time in the foster system was officially over. They told me I could stay, but that would have been unfair. I couldn’t take any more from them, they had already given me so much. Then I got my scholarship to the conservatoire, so I knew it was time to move on. Stand on my own two feet, so at eighteen, I moved out. I still speak to Di, at least once a week, if not more.”

“That’s young,” I say, already knowing this much from the report Elijah has given me.

“It’s the foster system,” she says, her tone so matter of fact that my heart bleeds for her. At eighteen, I was still immature, too young to stand on my own two feet. I find it difficult to envision what life would have been like at that age without adult supervision or support.

I think back to the desperation in Di’s voice when Samuel called her, when April was missing. This is a woman who clearly loves her foster daughter as if she was her own.

“She sounds like a special lady.”

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