Page 19 of My Fake Billionaire Damaged Boyfriend

“Who the hell leaves the bed so suddenly without saying a word? I thought you were done.”

He bites back a laugh and fails miserably at it, “You think I’m done with you, Kitten? I’ve been hanging onto this desire ever since I saw you in that little office, with your little skirt.”

My heart slams into my chest suddenly with his revelation, “What? Not at the club?”

“You assume I first tracked you at the club? Oh, Kitten. You’re so cute. You think wearing some tight leather and showing off your ass and cleavage is going to set me on fire? Well, you’re right, but besides that, I knew you had everything I wanted in a simple blouse and a pencil skirt.”

I bite my bottom lip out of nervous habit, but it sets him ablaze without hesitation. He undoes the wrapper to the condom, stroking it over his dick without a second to waste.

I take that as a hint, laying back down and throwing my hands back into position where he told me they should stay. The pit in my stomach doesn’t cease now, and the sense of anticipation is killing me. Watching the ceiling, I can hardly see Dimitri in my peripherals, but I can feel him everywhere.

His hands are on the inside of my knees, spreading my legs obnoxiously wide. While I hiss a breath in pain, he doesn’t seem to care, spreading me even wider than before.

The wet, warm spot between my thighs goes cold with the vulnerability of it now.

“Are you trying to rip me in half?” I pant, a little taken aback.

“Maybe I am,” he replies, kissing my lower stomach before making his way back up to my lips. In a breathy whisper, he adds, “Anything to keep you from crying again, Kitten.”

I take his lips against mine and inhale his breath as he exhales into my throat. It’s daunting enough for me to lose track of his erection, the plummeting feeling of his piston-pumping method of entering my sex far too much for me to handle at first.

I squeak a noise of pain and pleasure, melting in the puddle that my arousal creates when his pace steadies to a more manageable speed.

His hands are on my wrists, on my arms, down to my shoulders, across my stomach, and every damn spot on the way down until he’s clutching my hips and lifting my ass out of the bed. I feel like I’m freefalling, my shoulder blades still planted firmly in his cloud of a bed while my lower half is playing contortionist in Dimitri’s mighty palms.

While I should be submitting to the orgasm that I so desperately need right now, something else catches my attention; his words.

He’s just doing this to distract me, something I initially thought sounded great for me, and sounded like something I needed. Part of me wanted this because I knew it would lead to a grand display of a distraction, but to actually be doingitis a new story.

Dimitri just admitted that I turned him on when we first met, so why can’t I see past his silly little phrase of this being a distraction?

It’s more than that.

Or at least in my head, it’s more than that.

His hands grip over my thighs and press into the mound of my sex. His thumb flicks at my clit, and the sensation is simply wonderful enough to send me spiraling.

“Ah, ah!”

“There you go, Kitten. Let it all out.”

My head cranes back, and I go stiff in the legs where he holds my waist upright, still thrusting inside of me at a height and angle that I’ve never felt before.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” he mutters, breaking shortly after and dropping both of us back into bed. He lands on top of me, his hips like a snake curling and readying to strike again, his cock pressing deeper into my body than before, “You feel so amazing.”

“Thanks,” I gust, catching my breath. I push his shoulders sidewalks, rolling him off my body while I manage to sit up and collect my unruly hair, “I’m going to borrow your shower.”

He gives me an unsteady look, hiking his head up on his hand while angling his elbow against the mattress to leverage his position better, “What’s wrong, Kitten?”

“Stop calling me that,” I whisper, aiming to climb out of bed.

He grabs my hand, picking me right off my feet and caging me in his arms. His lips graze the back of my ear with fierce intent, “Don’t do this to me, Kitten. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” I admit, speaking the truth, “We had sex. It’s nothing. I’m going to take a shower to give you your space.”

“Space? We just had awesome sex. Why would we need space?”

My brows furrow in genuine bafflement, “What are you talking about? This is normal.”

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