Page 61 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
His eyes trace the curve of my exposed body, lingering on my breasts, my hips.
“You’re beautiful, Lucy,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “So exquisite.”
He unhooks my bra.
Black lace this time, thanks Ava.
And he lets it fall, his gaze worshipful. He runs his hands over my bare skin, igniting trails of fire, sending shivers down my spine despite the warmth of the room.
His mouth claims mine with a possessive growl, fingers tightening in my hair as the distant roar of the Atlantic echoes through the glass walls of the suite. His hands clamp my waist, steering me backward toward the bed.
When he steps back to undress, I’m breathless.
First, the soft gray Henley, shrugged off with a single fluid motion. The fabric clings for a heartbeat, outlining the formidable breadth of his shoulders before he tosses it aside. Moonlight spills over the carved planes of his chest, shadows pooling in the grooves of his abs, and I bite my lip at the raw power coiled in his frame.
He unbuttons his tailored linen trousers next, the crisp fabric whispering against his thighs as they slide to the floor. Beneath them, white shorts strain against the thick outline of his arousal, and my breath hitches.
A smirk curves his lips as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband, peeling them down with deliberate slowness. Freed, his cock springs up. Thick, flushed, veins throbbing undersmooth skin.
I swallow hard, heat pooling low in my belly.
I want him so bad.
He holds out the condom, and my fingers tremble as I tear the foil. This... the trust, the privilege of sheathing him, tightens my throat.
I kneel, savoring the way his breath hitches as I grip his cock, thick and achingly hard, veins snaking beneath his silken skin. Pre-cum glistens at the tip, and I can’t resist leaning in, flicking my tongue to taste him. Salt and musk and something darkly sweet.
He growls, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling slightly.
“Tease,” he rasps, though his hips jerk forward, betraying his need.
I smile, slow, as I roll the condom down, my thumbs tracing the furious veins beneath.
“You like it,” I murmur.
His voice is hoarse, dangerous. “You’ll pay for that.”
When I’m done, he drags me to my feet, but he doesn’t lay me down onto the bed immediately. Instead, he turns me gently, positioning me on my knees on the edge of the bed, facing away from him, towards the mirrored closet doors across the room. My reflection stares back. Flushed, expectant, vulnerable.
“Watch,” he commands softly, his hands settling firmly on my hips. I see his reflection behind mine, his eyes dark and intense, fixed on our image.
His magnificent cock presses against the back of my thigh. He reaches around, his fingers finding my wet folds, slicking me further, preparing me.
“You like being teased?” he taunts.
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Beg me to fuck you,” he says.
“Please fuck me,” I tell him immediately.
“I can’t hear you,” he presses.
“Fuck me Christopher!” I scream.
His reflection smirks, then, slowly, deliberately, he enters me from behind.
I gasp, arching my back as he fills me completely. The angle is different. Deeper. More intense.
