Page 40 of The Billionaire Submissive
“Shhh.” She burrowed closer and tightened her arms around him. “Be still a moment. Let me hold you. It’s all right, Donovan. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her gentle words tore through the last bit of his reserve and he shook in her arms. Great, racking sobs wrenched from him like she reached inside and yanked them out with her fist. Everything dissolved inside him. Everything he would have sworn he believed or knew about himself. Gone. Everything he’d fought his whole life to obtain. Worthless. Everything he’d ever wanted or felt with another woman paled in comparison.If she told me to stop breathing right this very moment, I’d simply die on the spot, gasping like a fish on the beach.
He lost track of time, unable to estimate how long he cried. How long she held him. He’d never broken down like that before. Even when his mother had died when he was just a boy. Or when he’d found his father gone in his sleep. The loss of his only family hadn’t devastated him as much as this woman’s simple command.
Terror clawed at his stomach, making him hunch against the pain. He tried to move away from her a little, to protect himself, but she wouldn’t allow it. She was stronger than she looked, but more…
I’m weaker than I ever thought I was.
How could she ever desire him again as a man? After breaking him down so completely?
It shouldn’t surprise him that she could crack open his skull and look inside his most secret thoughts.
“It takes quite an impressive man to accept the full force of his need like you just did. You could have walked away at any time. All you had to do was give me your safeword. Instead, you chose to take the journey with me. You trusted me to see you safely to the other side. There’s nothing sexier to me than a man who’s secure enough in his masculinity to let me explore his needs to the fullest, to give him the most pleasure I can possibly wring from every inch of his body. Yet that’s exactly what you just allowed me to do, and I thank you most humbly for it.”
He still couldn’t quite believe her words. He was too raw, too tender and shredded inside to believe a sexy, passionate woman like her could still want him.After she brought me to my knees. After I fell apart in her arms.
“Roll over.” She growled against his ear in one of the meanest, harshest voices he’d ever heard her use. Every submissive bone in his body immediately moved to obey, even if his muscles felt rubbery and elastic. “Look at me.”
He didn’t even realize he’d squeezed his eyes shut. He pried them open, braced to see disgust, disdain, some kind of distance in her eyes.
Not the sweet, glorious light that Andy Wells had managed to capture in those snapshots.
“You’re one hell of a man, Donovan Morgan,” she retorted fiercely, “and I want you more than ever. If I thought I could get a rise out of your exhausted cock, I’d take you in my mouth right this very moment until I could get you hard enough to take you inside me.”
He couldn’t say anything, still shaken and off balance.
“You don’t believe me?” She took his hand and slid both of their fingers into her panties. “Then what’s this, Donovan?”
She was so wet the silk of her panties was drenched and stuck to her flesh.
Awed, he watched her rise up on her knees. Using her own hand, she pushed his fingers into her, grinding her hips so she could ride him. She kept her own fingers in her panties too, rubbing herself while he thrust his fingers inside her. Moaning, she didn’t hold anything back. She let her head drop back, her breasts bouncing with the force of her movements, unrestrained and so wild and passionate it took his breath away.
And yeah, maybe his eyes burned again. Just a little.
“Who made my pussy so wet? Who’s all this cream for, Donovan? Who’s driving me crazy now? Say it.”
“Me.”
“And what do you want me to do most of all right this very minute?”
Her muscles contracted around his fingers, as hungry and desperate and needy as he’d been. He twisted and worked his hand deeper until he could get another finger shoved inside her. “I want you to come. Come for me, Lilly, and only me.”
And she did with a piercing shout that scared the last bird out of the tree he hadn’t already driven away.
Chapter Thirteen
It was a quiet trip back to the dock, but Lilly wasn’t concerned about his mental state or wellbeing. Not when he held her hand all the way back to his house. Or when he scooped her up into his arms and carried her all the way up those sweeping marble stairs to his bedroom.
Sensing his need to reestablish his virility after breaking down so completely, she let him take the lead and do exactly what he wanted. When he fell on her like a starving beast, she met him with legs open wide. He ripped through the designer clothing he’d bought her as carelessly as if she’d picked up her outfit at a thrift shop. Breathing hard, he didn’t stop to assess whether she was ready or not. No foreplay was needed. Not after what they’d done on his boat.
And yeah, he might have chosen plain old missionary, but even the Mistress had to agree there was something deliciously erotic about having a powerful man flexing and moving on top of her so savagely. His shoulders and back flexed, each thrust punctuated by a grunt of force. He pounded her so brutally he drove her across the mattress. Flailing, she tried to grip the sheets to keep from slipping, but pillows fell to the floor, along with a lamp and whatever else he had on the bedside table.
They ended up tight against the wall, one of his hands braced on the headboard and his other kneading her breast until she clawed his back. Donovan Morgan was a quick study. He didn’t need a manual to figure out how hard she liked his hands and oh, yes, his palms were big, his fingers long and elegant, perfect for tormenting her nipples. Combined with his impressive size and seeming determination to drive her through the wall, she came twice and promptly fell asleep.
Only to wake up and find outsomeonehad gone shopping. Evidently she’d been asleep longer than she intended—or maybe he was just speedy with his platinum gold card. Racks on wheels like they used in hotels were lined up at the foot of the bed bearing a ridiculous array of shimmery fine things that must have cost a fortune. Boxes of shoes. More flat lingerie boxes.
Stunned, she sat there gaping, glad he’d at least popped in like the fairy godmother and then left again so she could try to soak it all in without an audience. Running her fingers over an entire rack of beautiful formal gowns—where the hell did he think she was going to wear all this stuff? Her shop in the garage?—she had to smile.
