Page 44 of Adonis: The Cost of a Billionaire's Heart
He licked a slow stripe from my entrance to my clit, groaning against me like he was starving. His tongue flicked and swirled, mouth open wide to suck gently, then harder. His fingers slid inside me—one, then two—curling perfectly as he worked me with maddening precision.
My moans built into cries, louder and louder as the pressure tightened in my core. I writhed against his face, helpless to the sensations rolling through my body as he spoke in tongues over my pussy. Whenever he went low, he had me hitting high notes.
“Oh my God, Adonis—” I called out, shattering on a gasp.
My thighs clamped around his head as my climax tore through me like lightning. My pussy pulsed around his long fingers, slick and trembling, and still he kept going—soft licks, gentle strokes until I was gasping from overstimulation.
When he finally rose, his mouth glistened, and his brown orbs were dark with need.
“You taste like fucking honey,” he whispered, voice thick with lust.
I pulled him down to kiss me, tasting myself on his lips as I yanked at the buttons of his designer dress shirt. He helped, impatient fingers stripping everything off until he was bare above me—broad tatted chest, chiseled abs, and the hard length of his nine-inch dick standing at attention, proud and ready. Everything about his package was extra—extra hard and extra long. Adonis had the type of d that should’ve been in museums. It was a work of art.
I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his thick shaft. He hissed through his teeth as I stroked him, slow and tight. The double-hand twist of my wrist had him sitting on cloud nine. His hips twitched, and he grabbed my wrist.
“Condom,” he muttered, fumbling in the drawer nearby. He tore it open with his teeth, rolling it on with a groan as I spread my legs wider beneath him, still wet and aching.
He lined up at my entrance and looked at me again—checking, waiting.
“D,” I whispered, lifting my hips in invitation. “Fuck me now.”
He pushed in, slow and thick, inch by inch, stretching me wide and perfect. My breath caught. He was big, and every inch felt like he was carving himself into me. When he bottomed out, he stilled, forehead pressed to mine as I did a Kegel around his dick.
“Jesus,” he groaned. “You feel unreal.”
“So good,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his back. “Keep fucking me, please.”
He did.
He rearranged my chakras with long, deep thrusts that made the headboard knock softly against the wall and made my pussy make macaroni sounds. He set a rhythm—powerful, controlled, grinding into me just right with every stroke. I dug my nails into his back, wanting him deeper, harder. I wanted him to beat it up like he was trying to catch a case he’d need an expensive lawyer to get out of. He responded with an animalistic growl, pulling back and slamming into me with a force that made me yelp. It was so good it was disgusting. I wanted him around the clock, all the fucking time.
“Yes—God—don’t stop. You make me cum so fast.”
Adonis buried his face in my neck, whispering things I couldn’t quite make out—grunts and curses and my name like a prayer. His hand found my clit again, circling in time with his thrusts, and the pressure built fast, overwhelming me in seconds. It was crazy how we’d never spoken before our encounter in the elevator, and yet my body knew his as if he’d been my only lover.
Without hesitation, I exploded again, crying out as my body convulsed around him. I came hard, gripping him so tight he cursed. He followed moments later with a deep groan, hips jerking as he pulsed inside me, riding it out with slow, ragged thrusts.
He collapsed over me, panting as his hand slid up to cradle my face. For a long time, we just lay there—tangled, breathless, and quiet. There was no need to speak. Something changed between us. It wasn’t part of the deal. It wasn’t calculated. It was real. Raw.
And I knew deep in my bones that nothing would ever be the same.
Thirty minutes later.
I woke up before she did, awareness crashing over me like a bucket of ice water. Simora’s body was warm against mine—familiar like a childhood memory forever engraved in my head. Her long curls were spread wildly across the sheets, and her breathing was deep and leveled in slumber.
We’d fucked again. Shit.
I eased out of bed, careful not to wake her as I redressed. We said we wouldn’t do that shit again. We agreed. Yet, thoughts of our private jet rendezvous danced through my head. I remembered the way she spoke about her son, the pride in her voice, and the love radiating from her. I remembered how shekissed me first, brave and vulnerable all at once. I remembered how perfectly she fit against me, how right it felt to hold her and go deep inside her.
The way she’d put that panther on me, it was no wonder I was tweaking.I’d waited too long to have her legs wrapped around my face, and I couldn’t let one drop go to waste. I didn’t. She was something serious. I couldn’t shake the thought of me giving her dick on a private island or being the only one with exclusive rights to her honeypot. And it terrified me.
I’d run my father’s empire on control. On keeping people at arm’s length. On never needing anyone. Love was messy. Love was weakness. It didn’t matter if it was on the block or the boardroom, love would most certainly always be weaponized.
By the time she began to stir, I’d rebuilt my emotional walls and put on my mask of stoicism. I was dressed for business and replying to an email on my phone. When we landed back in New York, our deal would officially be over. She emerged from the bed looking sleep-rumpled and beautiful. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly darted my eyes back to my phone.
“Wow. I didn’t even know I fell asleep,” she said shyly, a slight smile playing at her lips. “How long was I out?”
“We should talk.” My voice came out colder than I intended, causing her smile to fade quickly.
