Page 28 of The Billionaire's Second Chance
I went to her, walking closer and closer until she was backed up against the wall of the hotel room but leaving space between us. She could move if she wanted, squirm away, but she didn’t, even as I drew one hand up to her face, resting against her soft cheek. Her eyes were still narrowed in challenge as she tilted her head up, but they fell closed as I bent closer. I placed a soft, close-mouthed kiss on her lips, chaste but for the implication it held. Her hands fell to her sides, then I felt them land on my hips, their weight light but her grip sure.
I broke the kiss gently, and her shuddering exhale was sweet against my mouth–I wanted to drink it in, to inhale her breath into my lungs, to keep her within me.
“Do you?” I asked. Her eyelashes fluttered open, so close I could see the dark rings of her irises, could watch as her pupils dilated. “Because,” I said, without giving her a chance to respond. I surged forward, slotting one leg between her thighs, and bent my head to her neck, where I traced my tongue over her pulse. “I think you prefer me with my mouth open, do you not?”
“Oh,” she gasped, “Charlie.” I smiled as I kissed over her jaw, the lobe of her ear. Her head tipped to the side, giving me access, and I brought up a hand to tangle in her hair, holding it there.
“Yes, Samantha?” I asked, grinding my hips against hers and my cock against the inside of my pants. I wasn’t sure when I’d gotten so hard. Surely not during that close-mouthed kiss?
“Stop fucking talking,” she breathed.
“Ah,” I said against her skin, “if that’s what you meant, you should have been more specific.” I scooped her up, her pencil skirt shoved unceremoniously around her hips as her legs wrapped around my waist, and tossed her onto the bed. She was already undoing her skirt zipper by the time I pulled my shirt off, wriggling it down over her hips, then lifting her blouse over her head.
The lace she wore today was a creamy nude shade, barely paler than her skin, a perfectly matched set once again.Three for three.I smiled.
“What?” she asked, frowning.
“You always wear matching underwear, don’t you?”
“So?” she asked, her frown deepening.
“So…” It was verySamantha, and I realized with an unsettled feeling that I thought it wascutehow very Samantha it was. “So take it off,” I said. “I want to see you.”
“You’re gloating,” she accused.
“Shouldn’t I?” I asked, retrieving a fresh condom from my wallet before dropping my pants to the floor, then my boxers, and taking a step closer to her. Her eyes dropped, too, as I stroked myself, surprised to find myself nearly at full hardness. I rolled on the condom; Samantha didn’t seem like she was in the mood for romantic foreplay. “This scene feels oddly familiar to me considering someone told metake a good look, you’ll never see this again,don’t you think?”
“Shut up, Charlie,” she said, her eyes flicking back up to my face as she unhooked her bra band, letting it fall away from her perfect,perfectbody. I struggled to keep my eyes on hers, and was rewarded when I knelt on the foot of the bed and saw them glinting with desire.
“And?” I asked.
Her eyes didn’t change, but the color of her cheeks did. Pink.
“And fuck me.”
“Sure, Samantha,” I said, and crawled onto the bed over her. “You know,” I added, settling my knees around one of hers, bracing my elbows on either side of her ribcage. My cock pulsed against the soft, soft skin of her thigh, and I placed my lips on the swell of her breast, kissing my way up to the hollow of her throat, then her ear. “You may have lied,” I goaded her, “but I didn’t: I promise, you’ll get everything you want. Every time. I don’t disappoint.”
She looked up at me, one corner of her lip curling up into a smile. “Why else would I be here?” she asked.
The Samantha in this hotel room was different than the Sami I’d slept with at James’s penthouse: that Sami had smelled like flowers and tasted like champagne and come undone so sweetly and easily under me…
Her hand reached down between us, guiding my cock towards her entrance, her foot brushing against the back of my thigh as she hurriedly pulled me closer.
But not so different. Even then, fumbling in the dark, her whisperedyeshad been confident, self-assured.Fuck, she’d groaned, half-dressed on James’s guest bed, and the word had snagged deep in my belly, making my dick pulse within her walls.You’re big, she’d told me, and I’d laughed.Sorry, I’d said.Next time, we’ll go slower.
Next time.
Fifteen fucking yearslater.
I smiled back, sinking into the tight, hot pleasure of her in one steady movement, and let the feeling of our bodies together erase all other thought–Whyelsewould she be here? Why else wouldIbe?–from my brain. I paused for a moment when my hips hit hers, giving us both a second to adjust.
“Fuck,” she said. “You’re big.”
“Yeah,“ I said, and bent down to capture her lower lip between my teeth, biting down gently, sucking it into my mouth, releasing it with a soft, wet pop. I flexed my abs, rolling my hips against hers once, twice, my brows furrowed with effort. She was so warm, and so wet, and so damn tight, and it wasSamantha fucking Scottgazing heavy-lidded up at me, her teeth biting down on her lower lip where mine had just been, and it took everything I had to go slow, to wait for her. And then her heel dug into my ass, silently asking for more, and I grinned.She wouldn’t beg.
“Yes,” she said as I thrust deeper. “Oh,yes–”
“You want it hard and fast?” I asked. “You want it rough, sweetheart? Or–”
