Page 18 of My Fake Billionaire Damaged Boyfriend

I’m nothing, but in his arms, with his body writhing against mine, I feel likesomethingagain.

Whatever it is, I want it. All of it. Right now.

Judging by the erection brushing my inner thigh, I know for certain he wants it too.

CHAPTER8

Izzy

Somehow, and through no fault of my own, we end up in his bed.

Dimitri is undoing my shirt, his fingertips running smooth trails over my hips, then my shoulders, and then finally my hands. I shiver at the cold, soon replaced by his bare, warm chest.

I should ask him when he became naked, or why we’re still kissing after such news was just brought to light, but I don’t. Instead, I taste the feeling of his inner cheek and memorize the rigidness of his teeth while he tries to bite my bottom lip.

For once, I’m thankful that he’s here with me now. If nothing more than a sexual need, a dive into a deep, thoughtful distraction, then so be it. I can’t say that kissing Dimitri is all that bad. His body is solid, and I meansolideverywhere, while his hands are rather delicate and feathery to the touch. He’s very precise in his caress, and in the gentle, taunting way he yanks at my waistline to pop the fabric back into place.

“Ah,” I pant in shock and some minor pain.

He only chortles through my lips, making me swallow his humorous snicker in a single gulp. His hands brush my skirt off, followed very closely by my panties. I lean into his lips more, reaching towards my ankles to help his venture, but he doesn’t seem to like that.

His hands wrap around my wrists, pinning them over my head where I feel even more exposed than before. His lips trace the curves of my breasts, pecking them with little kisses that soon focus on the erect point of my nipple. He has a slight, scruffy beard that makes my heart skip a beat, the roughness sending me even more over theedge.

Shutting my eyes, I feel engulfed in this moment, and the feelings swirling around me right now. Every little nuzzle of his throat on my breast, his lips on my shoulders, and the plane of his tongue brushing directly up the valley between my boobs where he tastes the spot relentlessly.

At last, he releases my hands, but not without a stern voice adding, “Keep those there.”

I don’t open my eyes, and I’ll be damned if I move an inch, feeling him lick all the way down to my stomach until he finds the helm of my pussy with his lips. I hiss and fight back the urge to pull my hands down, pinning them near the headboard while my wild and wet eyes come wide open.

Staring at the ceiling, I bite through the fluttering that is overwhelming my stomach and sending waves of electricity into my lungs and throat. My shoulders and upper back lift off the bedding, my heels digging into the same sheets that I clutch into my fingertips that have since turned white.

Still, he licks, bites, and tastes every inch of my sex until there’s hardly anything left.

“Fuck,” I pant. “I’m—I’m going to—”

“Don’t you dare,” he says, speaking into my inner thigh.

His tongue leaves my clit, and while throbbing and thankful, I’m frustrated by the sudden cliff’s edge that I find myself on. I was ready to dive headfirst over the edge, and now I’m staring at the fun carnival below without being permitted to join the party.

He stands at once, using both hands to wipe his slick hair back off his forehead where a sheen of sweat lies. Sitting up, I keep my legs arched and parted in the hope that he will return. He stalks towards the bathroom instead, opening a small drawer nearby where I see the foil wrapper of a condom in his fingertips.

My eyes are easily distracted, though, and I trace the tattoos on his muscled shoulders that trail around his spine like a snake weaving around the crisp edge of a dagger.

When he turns, my eyes widen, seeing a disapproving frown over his features that shouldn’t be there.

Not with the blunt erection he’s parading around his apartment like a trophy he wants to show off.

And damn, does he show it off well.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he bites.

My brows knit, “What? I was wondering where you went.”

“I was going to come back,” he says, standing at the foot of his bed where he strokes himself casually, as though the length and girth of such a cock isn’t supposed to entice and frighten me at the same time, “You moved your hands.”

“Yeah, I was a little busy.”

“Doing what? Snooping?”

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