Page 61 of Billionaire's Promise
The breath whooshes out of me. His length throbs inside of me, filling me, stretching me to the brim. He seems impossibly big, too thick to have forced his way into my tiny channel. A moan bleeds from my lips. His gaze darts to my mouth. He leans down, rubs his thumb across my lips. "Open," he rasps.
I part my lips and he slides his finger inside. I lick his digit, absorb the salty, testosterone-filled taste of his skin. He slides his other hand under me, inserts his digit inside my pucker and goosebumps pop on my skin.Shit, shit, shit. What’s he doing to me?With every hole in my body occupied by him, he begins to fuck me in earnest.
He pulls back, until his cock is poised at the entrance to my channel, then he thrusts forward with such force that the entire table creaks. He propels his hips, rams into me again. My body jerks; the table groans. Heat radiates from the point of contact as he locks his gaze on mine. I can’t look away from his hard features—the blue eyes glowing as if lit from within; those massive shoulders of his that roll and flex with each push forward; the bead of sweat that trickles down his cheek. A vein throbs at his temple, the very air around him saturated with the fierceness of his desire. I can’t take my eyes off of him. He pulls out, then pistons his hips forward and sinks into me until he bottoms out against my pelvic floor. His balls slap against my arse; the angle pushes the hardness of his dick into the sensitive lower skin of my slit and tendrils of heat flare out from the contact.
He curves his finger inside my back hole, as he pulls his thumb from my mouth, only to replace it with his tongue. He kisses me, sucks on my tongue like he’s trying to absorb my very essence into his blood, and that’s when the climax sweeps out from my lower belly. It screams up as he releases my mouth, only to command, "Come for me, come all over my dick, sweet Eve."
I shatter. The orgasm crashes over me. Sparks of brightness overwhelm my vision. When it clears, I blink, watch him watching me with an expression I cannot fathom.
He reaches down, brushes his lips over mine, as he begins to pump into me, once-twice-thrice before his features contort. He holds my gaze as he empties himself inside of me with a groan, and oh, my god, that is the hottest sight I have ever seen.
He pulls his thumb out from my back hole, leans over me as he rests his weight on his elbows on either side of me. That’s when the table creaks, sways, then collapses. I scream as the world tilts. The next moment, I am on his chest. "What the—?" I blink. "How did you move that quickly?"
"Training," he mutters.
I glance at him, then at the remnants of my poor dining table, then back at his face. A chuckle bubbles up. His lips curve.
"OMG," I snort, "I can’t believe we broke the dining table."
"Guess my weight was too much for it?" he suggests.
"It’s never seen so much action as in the last fifteen minutes."
"At least, now you don’t have to disinfect it," he offers, and that only makes me laugh harder.
"This…this gives an entire new meaning to nailing the table," I sputter.
"You know what you should do after you have sex on a dining table right?"
"What…?" I wipe my tears. "What?"
"Table spoon," he declares.
I stare, then burst out laughing. I laugh until tears roll down my cheeks. Glance up to find him staring at me.
"What?" I blink, "What is it?"
"Nothing." He swallows.
"Are you sure? You seem pale."
"It's," he shakes his head, "it's just when you laughed..." He peers into my face. "It reminded me of..."
"What?"
His gaze intensifies. He glances to the side then back at me, "Seriously, babe, it's nothing."
"Hmm," I pout, "you're hiding something from me."
"And here I was sure you'd tell me off for my poor joke."
"That it was." I nod, "And by the way, you're trying to change the topic."
"Am I that obvious?" He winces, "Clearly, I am losing my touch. That’s what happens when I try to have a conversation on an empty stomach."
I stare at him with suspicion.
"What do you mean?"
