Page 20 of The Billionaire's Naughty List

“Me?”

He lets my middle go so he can line his cock up again. “Mhmm.”

I press back, taking him deep. We both sigh again. “Are you saying I’m not innocent?”

“With the way you’re taking my cock right now? No way. Such a good girl, though.” He goes back to pounding me in earnest. Each thrust fills me to the point of bursting.

It’s my turn to hum my pleasure.

Soon, we’re both crying out, cresting the mountain together.

“So good,” he groans.

My arms give out, but my knees and hips stay locked. All I can do is lay there while happy chemicals saturate my system and Elliot fills me with his cum.

When I wake up from my orgasm induced nap, my phone is on the nightstand and my red coat is draped over the back of a chair in the sitting area. I can't help but grin.

Elliot didn't need a nap, apparently. He's so sweet to go get my stuff. I was so wrapped up in him that I'd completely forgotten about my phone still sitting in the snow on the tripod.

At the foot of the bed, I find a robe and slip it on. It smells faintly of him: hints of fir and something slightly musky.

Seriously, he's so good to me. Always has been. When I first moved to Seattle and guys from school were only interested in themselves, Elliot proved to be thoughtful, even as his company was exploding.

I find him in the kitchen. He's sliced the loaf of bread I brought and I smell tomato soup.

Drawn to him, I slide my arms around his waist.

"Hey, sleeping beauty."

I make a happy sound and squeeze him tighter. This whole day is straight out of my dreams.

"Hey, handsome."

You'd think I'd be sated after all those orgasms, but lust burns through my veins. I'm afraid he's created a monster. Nipping his nearest shoulder blade, I delight in the way his muscles twitch.

"If you keep that up, I'm going to have you for dinner."

My pussy weeps at the prospect. Seriously, does he know how delicious that sounds? How long I dreamed of this sort of easy going domesticity?

I don’t need to look at the clock on the stove to see that it’s well after dinnertime. There’s an inky darkness outside the windows that tells me just how late it is.

I press tighter to his back and let my hands roam.

"Lily…" He says my name like a warning, but there's underlying humor.

"It's not my fault you smell so good."

"That's the basil," he deadpans.

"Mmm…" I shake my head and press a kiss to the spot I just nibbled. "It's man. Hunky man zest."

He flips the burner off, moves the pot to a cool spot, and turns in my arms. I grin up at his stern expression, need burning through me. My breathing shallows as he wraps his arms around my waist and seals us together.

"Time for my appetizer," he murmurs, dipping his head.

I loop my arms around his neck, fingers in his hair. Stretching up, our lips meet and for a heartbeat, everything goes quiet.

There's no sound, only pleasure. Connection. Rightness.

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