Page 50 of Fractured (Not Quite a Billionaire)
“Please,” I said, not caring that I was begging.
He smiled. “Eyes open,” he told me. “Watch me.”
I wanted to close them when he started up again. I needed to. But I didn’t. His hard, dark gaze held mine as he stood there, imperious as an Ottoman emperor, and drove me to the brink, then back again, over and over. Until my legs were shaking hard, and I was panting.
“I can’t,” I managed to say. “I can’t…Hemi.”
He didn’t smile, and he didn’t soften. Instead, he dropped the silk tie between my feet. “Turn around,” he told me. “Bend over and hold onto the edge of the table.”
I did it. Of course I did. I needed the orgasm as much as I’d ever needed anything. I was aching, pulsing, throbbing. Ineededit.
A few seconds, and I could tell by the rustle behind me that he was stripping. I wanted to look at him, but my position, face-down, staring at the stone floor of the terrace, was even more exciting than seeing him would have been. I knew it was too open, too vulnerable, and much too subservient. And I loved it.
He didn’t warn me, and he didn’t go slowly. He lifted my hips in two hands and shoved home, and I cried out.
“Too…short,” he gritted out. “Too…tight. Ah…no.”
“Wh-what?” I asked, but a tattooed arm was already shoving dishes aside, and he was pushing me forward, so my body rested on the table and my hips hung off the edge, and then he was plunging home again. He had hold of my hips, the raised lip at the edge of the table was catching me in exactly the right place, my hands were hanging onto the other side, clutching for dear life, and I was keening.
When one of his hands let go of my hip and came around to rub…I went over, just like that. One moment, I was calling out, squirming against his hand, his thrusting body, and the next…I was gone. The spasms shook me, my hands tightened painfully around the edge of the table, and my hips would have bucked if Hemi hadn’t been so heavy over me. But hewasheavy, and I was going on and on with no letup for what felt like minutes. The minute I crested and headed down the other side, his fingers and the unbelievable pressure inside me, the way he hit every spot exactly right, were sending me up again.
Cold, hard glass under me, hot, hard man over me, and I was caught between them. Hemi was merciless, but I didn’t want mercy. I wanted this. I wanted it all. And he gave it to me.
It took him a long time afterwards to move off me, but I didn’t want him to. I wasn’t comfortable, but I was exactly where I needed to be. And when he dragged his lips across the sensitive places down my spine, I shivered and wanted it all again.
“Insatiable,” he said with a sigh, but I could hear the smile in his voice. He was standing, then, pulling me up with him and down into his lap again.
You’re thinking it’s weak to want to be held as much as Hemi held me, and you’re right. But you have to understand—he was my man, and nobody had ever been mine like that before.
My soul was my own, and I knew it, and so were my mind and my body. I wasn’t his slave, but I sometimes felt as if I were. The only good part about it was that I could tell he felt the same way. That I dragged him to me, willing and unwilling all at once, made him open up in a way that scared him, and took him past his limits in exactly the same way he did to me. It was fierce, it was irresistible, and it was ours.
That’s love, I think. That’s trust. And it’s precious.
So, yes, it frightened me, the way I felt about him, but it soothed me, too. My life with Hemi was all contradiction.
Right now, he was stroking my shoulder, soothing again. “All right?” he asked me.
“Mm…yes.” I sighed. “But you know, for a man who gave a good impression of somebody who didn’t want Karen to go off by herself a little while ago, you took some pretty fast advantage of her being gone.”
“And you didn’t want me to.”
“Now, did I say that?” I pressed a kiss to the muscle at his shoulder, then gave him a soft bite there. “I wanted you to. Did I mention that I loved you?”
“You may have done. And I’ve got Eugene coming in a bit for my workout, so we’re going to have to get up out of this chair, or you’re going to be very embarrassed indeed. But first…” He reached for the manila envelope Josh had handed him, which was shoved to the edge of the table now, along with everything else, and handed it to me.
“What is it?” I asked. “A deed to a diamond mine? A contract saying I agree to have sex every day, any way you want it? What? Give me a hint.”
He was smiling for once. “Open it and see.”
I’d teased, but I was nervous. I didn’t want anything to spoil this moment.
When I opened the envelope, pulled out the single piece of paper inside, and scanned it, I actually gasped, and then I sat up straight and read it again.
“Hemi,” I said helplessly. “Why?”
“Because,” he said, “I thought it might help. I thought it might make you feel better. Make you not feel trapped. You told me a long time ago that I didn’t understand how close to the edge you were.” His hand was smoothing down my back again, and there was healing in his touch. “I wanted you to know that I heard, and that even if I forget it sometimes…I know you’re free. I wanted you to know that you always have a place to go. And I wanted you to have your mum.”
“I…” I blinked back a few stubborn tears that wanted to leak out. It wasn’t my most coherent moment, but then, how could you expect it to be?
