Page 137 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
Then I begin to move. Deep, rhythmic thrusts. Building friction. Building heat.
My pace is deliberate, controlled, but powerful. I watch her face, her reactions, adjusting my angle, my speed, applying everything I just learned. Tailoring the experience precisely to her.
She arches beneath me, sweat-slick and feral, that goddamned look in her eyes, the one that makes my signature on million-dollar contracts feel like scribbling in crayon.
The vibrator buzzes against my palm, still warm from where I’d pressed it against the inside of her thigh moments before.
“You want this?” I growl, dragging the humming silicone up her stomach. Not a question. A challenge.
Her hips jerk, but I hold it just shy of where she burns for it.
“Use your words,” I tease.
“Please... I want it—”
I flip the setting to high and crush the vibrator to her clit.
Her scream cracks through the penthouse. She cums instantly, her back bowing, her thighs trembling as I fuck her through the aftershocks. The condom stretches tight with each thrust and her nails rake down my back, reminding me she’s mine.
“Again,” I demand, angling deeper. “You’ll cum twice more before I finish.”
She moans, wild and throaty, her heels digging into my ass. “Please... you’re so fucking... hot...”
The vibrator’s still buzzing between us. I grind it harder against her as I slam home, finding that brutal rhythm that makes her choke on my name.
“Christopher Chrssstpher Cihrtopst...” Her words are coming out gibberish now.
Her next climax hits like a stock market crash. Devastating, inevitable, her cunt fluttering around me in spasms that threaten to end me.
I watch her unravel, that perfect composure fracturing, and Christ, it’s better than hostile takeovers, better than flipping companies.
“Again,” she says. It’s her turn to demand.
I smile wryly. “Atta girl.”
I press the vibrator hard against her clit and pound at her pussy.
She meets my thrusts, her hips rising off the bed, her moans growing louder, less pleading, more demanding.
This connection, this friction, this shared intensity… it’s more potent than any boardroom victory.
I feel her climax building again, her inner muscles clenching around my cock. I drive into her harder, faster, pushing her over the edge.
And finally I can’t take it anymore. My own release surges, hot and heavy.
I bite her shoulder to muffle the roar, then bury my face in her hair, spent but victorious.
We lie tangled together for a long moment, the only sounds the harsh rasp of our breathing slowly returning to normal, and the vibrator, still pulsing beside me. I fumble for it with one hand and shut it off.
I hold Lucy close, my grip tight, almost possessive.
Later, much later, as she lies curled against my side, tracing patterns on my chest, the question surfaces again, unbidden.
“So,” I murmur against her hair. “About moving in…”
She stiffens slightly, hesitates. “Christopher… it still feels too soon. So much is happening…”
Disappointment, sharp and unwelcome, pricks at me. But I keep my voice even. Controlled.
