Page 27 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire
“Ohhhh.” My eyes rolled back in my head, my pulse throbbing.
Our eyes locked as he moved me up and down, and I could feel every single inch of him. His thick shaft swelling inside me. His eyes hooded as he looked up at me like I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“You feel so good inside me,” I whispered, leaning forward to kiss him. Kissing him was enough to get me off. Better than the sex I’d experienced with my ex.
My hips rolled. Our tongues danced, swirling against each other. A light moan traveled up my throat. Desperation ate away at me, burning and clawing at my insides. I needed all of him.
My breathing grew ragged, my breasts bouncing as he picked me up by the hip bones and slammed me back down on his cock. Hot pleasure built inside me as his pelvis ground against my sensitive flesh. My movements grew more frantic with every thrust. I rode him hard.
He hissed, his eyes fixed on where we were connected. With heavy breaths, both of us watched him fuck me. Something about watching his cock slide in and out of me had my pleasure twisting tighter and tighter, overwhelming my senses.
His strong fingers dug into my hips, lifting me off him and then slamming me back down onto his thick, long cock. He fucked me deep and hard, and I fucked him just as hard in return. I wasn’t sure where he ended and I began.
His hand came to my throat, pulling me down to take my mouth for a consuming kiss. My breasts rubbed against his hard chest. Everywhere our bodies touched, friction sizzled. My skin burned.
“Harder,” I moaned. “Fuck, I need it harder.”
His grip tightened as he pumped into me at a piston pace. I might have been on top, but he held all the control.
“Come for me, baby.”
The orgasm hit me hard, shooting stars behind my eyes and stealing the breath from my lungs. My nails dug into his biceps, and I bit down where his shoulder met his neck. I convulsed around his thick shaft, my insides clenching around him like he was my lifeline.
I felt his cock jerk as he came with a rough noise. We panted as we clung to each other, my body on top of his, slick with sweat while our hearts raced wildly in tandem.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, my mind mush. We lay there, our breaths heavy in the sudden quiet that followed. Oh my gosh, what had I done? I was the good sister—the reliable one. The lust-fueled fog slowly cleared and reality swarmed my thoughts.
I’d had a naughty moment in the elevator with two men and then sex with a complete—drop-dead gorgeous, but still—stranger. But it was a toe-curling,amazingexperience. Was it wrong though?
“Are you all right?” Byron’s muscles turned rigid. “Did I hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No, no. I just…” I buried my face in his neck. “Might be a bit embarrassed.”
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he grumbled. “You were—are—perfect.”
Even with me on top of him, he held all the control. I liked that, more than willing to give him control for my pleasure.
Heat instantly flared in my body, blooming low in my stomach at his hard, sculpted body molding against my soft one. He radiated heat from every single inch of his body and his comment rushed to the front of my mind.He runs hotter than normal.
Then I remembered.His back. “Is your back okay?” I asked, concerned and ready to shift away so it wasn’t rubbing against the sheets. He turned us over so we were side by side, facing each other.
“My back and my dick have never been better,” he said casually, discarding his condom.
A choked laugh escaped me, and I let myself relax and enjoy the moment. Inhaling deeply, I soaked in the masculine scent of him—citrus and sandalwood. Finally… I finally understood the expressionla petite mort.The little death. It had never been like this. Never. Until tonight.
I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, feeling self-conscious. Silence hummed between us and Byron stared at me with an intensity that burrowed beneath my skin.
“You are beautiful.” The gentleness of his voice surprised me, but I loved it. It settled over my skin like a warm breeze. But I loved his hands rubbing over me even more.
I met his heavy-lidded eyes filled with desire. My hands rested against his chest, my fingers tapping lightly against his muscles. “So are you,” I murmured.
His mouth twitched. “Compared to you, I’m a scarred old man.”
“Well, old man,” I teased, roaming my hands down his chest and over his sculpted abs. “I respectfully disagree. I think all of you—including your scars—are perfect and beautiful.”
He continued rubbing me with soft strokes, our breathing returning to normal. “This old man is ready to show you round two. Do you think you can handle it?”
Suddenly, Pierre was a distant memory. His words diminishing me, calling me vanilla, no longer mattered because I just had the most exuberant experience with this man. And we weren’t done.
