Page 167 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
My hands tremble as I mirror his touch, fingers skimming my slick folds, each movement a battle against the ache to plunge deeper, to chase the release throbbing low in my belly, to masturbate the shit out of myself and find the release I so desperately want.
“Slowly.” His voice cracks like a whip, yet velvet-soft, a paradox that stills me. “You don’t cum until I say.”
His gaze pins me. Dark, hungry, a predator savoring the hunt. A rumble escapes him, primal and approving, as I slow down and slip two fingers inside myself.
I bite my lower lip, my breath shuddering as I drag my fingertips in slow, agonizing circles.
He shifts closer, the heat of his body searing my skin.
“Good girl,” he purrs, but there’s steel beneath the sweetness. His hand closes over mine, guiding my rhythm, his palm rough against my knuckles.
“Let me show you how I want you.” His words aren’t a request. They’re a decree, edged with the tenderness he reservesonly for me.
His fingers replace mine, deliberate, possessive, curling just so until my hips jerk. “See?”
His thumb brushes my clit, feather-light, and I whimper. “Every gasp, every shiver. Mine.”
His eyes never waver, drinking in every flinch of pleasure, every tremor he orchestrates.
When his mouth crashes over me again, it’s relentless. Sucking, lashing, owning.
I fist the sheets, a broken chant of his name on my lips as he drives me higher. “Chris— Christ... opher.”
“Now, Lucy!” The order is a growl against my skin, his tongue circling faster. “Let. Go.”
I shatter, his name a scream, his grip anchoring me as the world blurs.
Pleasure rips through me in wave after powerful wave. It feels different this time. Deeper. Not just physical release, but an emotional catharsis, tears falling from my eyes as the shudders wrack my body.
I’m his.
Completely, utterly his.
He holds me through it, murmuring reassurances. “You did well. You’re such a good girl.”
He kisses my trembling thighs until the last wave fades.
I lie there, breathless, boneless, completely undone.
He strokes my hair back from my damp forehead, his expression filled with fierce tenderness.
“Trust me?” he asks suddenly, his eyes searching mine.
“Always,” I whisper without hesitation. Because I do. Completely. After everything we’ve been through.
He reaches over to the nightstand drawer,retrieves something small. My heart gives a nervous flutter. The vibrator?
But when he brings his hand back, I see… my silk scarf from last time? The one I wore to hide his marks. A hand towel.
And something else… something smooth, dark, elegantly curved, made of silicone.
An anal plug.
Oh. My. God.
My eyes widen and my cheeks flame instantly.
He wants to put that… where?!
