Page 58 of Kinks of a Billionaire
“Do not touch yourself.” My palm landed on her pussy again with a loud slap, her wetness making obscene noises. “And this is for making me wait, my beautiful wife.”
“It was a quick shower,” she protested as I slid my hard cock along her drenched folds, poised at her entrance. I brought my hand around to her hip, my fingers digging into her flesh while the other gripped her throat.
“Not quick enough.” I slammed into her, and she let out a whimpering sob.
I stilled, feeling her walls close around my length.
Willow looked over her shoulder with a huff and uttered, “Don’t you fucking stop now.” My lips curved in satisfaction.
Letting loose, I slammed into her tight heat. She moaned; I grunted. I fucked her with a savage-like fury, turning her into ascrambled mess. In and out. Harder and faster, each hard thrust bringing me closer to nirvana.
The tingles at the base of my spine began to climb as I thrust deeper and faster, until she came apart around me, her inner muscles clenching around my cock.
I followed her right over the edge, coming apart in the most powerful orgasm I’d ever experienced.
We exited our bedroom on the top floor of Asher’s mansion. Our steps were quieted by the plush rugs. The walls were covered in dark paneling, giving the house an isolated feeling. While it had modern amenities, its ambiance gave the impression of being stuck in the Middle Ages.
Kind of like Asher.
Something about him rubbed me the wrong way, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“Holy shit,” Willow whispered, and I followed her gaze over the rail toward the bottom of the stairs, where the white marble floor was dusted with red rose petals.
“Jesus, it looks like blood,” I muttered. “Some fucked-up sacrifice ritual.”
She clucked her tongue at me, squeezing my hand. “Only you would find something wrong with this picture,” she reprimanded with a giggle, pointing to a row of red candles. “I think it’s kind of romantic.”
“Dracula-themed you mean.” I grinned when she shot me a warning look. “We’ll see what you think when this party’s in full swing.”
Her cheeks flushed, probably letting her imagination run wild. The truth was she probably wasn’t even scratching the surface.
We were just about to reach the stairs when a photo caught my eye and I stopped, my brows scrunching. It was of a young woman, white-blonde curls and sad blue eyes holding a baby in her arms.
“What is it?” Willow asked, studying the photo. “You know her?”
“She looks like…” No way, it couldn’t be. Willow squeezed my hand, urging me to finish my thought. “She looks like a housekeeper who worked for our family years and years ago. But it couldn’t be.”
“Why not?”
I dug my cell from my pocket. “Because she died. She never had a baby.”
“Maybe she adopted,” Willow offered. Except, my instinct warned me it was something else. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to snap a photo of it and send it to Byron. He was older when she was around. He’ll recognize her.” With awhoosh, the photo was on its way to my brother. Before I even had a chance to put my cell away, a text came back.
Why are you sending me photos of our maid? I don’t want my wife to think I have eyes for anyone but her.
I typed a message back.
Delete the message, then.
His reply was instant.
You’re a dick. Who’s the baby?
“So itisher,” Willow breathed. “What an odd coincidence.”
“Isn’t it?” I agreed.
