Page 70 of The Reluctant Billionaire

‘You’re so,sobeautiful,’ he tells me, his face etched with his efforts at self control. I smile a cat-like smile at him. ‘But I need to fuck you from behind so badly,’ he huffs out, and I laugh.

‘God. Do it.’

He pulls out and flips me over easily with an arm around my waist, tugging me up to my hands and knees. ‘On your elbows or I’ll fuck you right off the bed,’ he warns.

I’m not sure if that’s a promise or a threat, but I sink to my elbows, and he’s pushing back inside me almost immediately, his hands stroking over my hips, my arse, squeezing my waist as he sinks so deep inside me that I almost lose my mind.

Fuckthat’s intense. I blow out the kind of exhale I’ve seen labouring mothers use onOne Born Every Minute.

‘You okay?’ he manages on a groan.

‘Mmm-hmm,’ I squeak, because my lung capacity has just halved. ‘Just fuck me hard.’

And he does.

With the punishing pace of his thrusts, and at this angle, the sensation of Aide filling me up has me losing my mind. I claw at the towelling fitted sheet and dig my elbows in in an attempt to stop myself from shooting off the bed like he warned me, but really, all I can do is hold on for dear life and ride out the pressure that’s contracting and building deep inside me.

Aide runs his hand up my sides and back down as his hips roll and his dick does magical things to my internal tissue. One hand stays wrapped around the back of my neck, holding me in place, while the fingers of his other hand dig into my waist.

I’d sell my soul never to stop hearing the low, rough grunts he makes each time he bottoms out in me.

It’s coarse and primal and perfect, and the swell of need inside me grows so great as to become a white light, a beautiful thing, engulfing me and stealing my consciousness as my vision leaves me and I succumb to this somehow otherworldly but very earthly pleasure.

Aide, who seems to have the world’s greatest willpower—figures—lasts a few more thrusts before his own climax comes crashing over him. Every part of his powerful body shakes with the violence of his release. His fingers grasp me harder. His dick jerks inside me. He collapses on top of me, his chest against my back, his heart hammering against my skin.

27

AIDE

Dark curls on my white pillowcase.

Smooth, tanned limbs against my sheets.

Slender, ring-adorned fingers interlocked with my thick, work-roughened ones.

I scarcely dare admit, even to myself, how good Carlotta Montefiore-Charlton looks in my enormous bed.

Or how good it feels to be lying next to her.

The evening is warm enough that the French doors to my terrace are open, the bedsheet draped low on our hips as we lie on our sides, two commas facing each other.

Athletic fucking after an equally hard day’s work has worn us out. I’m impressed I had the energy and the stamina to put in a decent performance after all those keepy uppies I did, but Lotta’s willing mouth and beautiful, dangerous body seem to galvanise a guy.

We cooled down from that unbelievable fuck with another dip in the pool, followed by dinner on the terrace. Maggie had left out an array of salads and tuna tartare that we ate while wrapped around each other on the huge, modular outdoor sofa.

The food recharged our batteries sufficiently that we managed another round just now, the glow of whose aftermath I am currently wallowing in like a spaniel in a puddle.

Contented is not the word. It’s as if a master masseur has spent the evening walking up and down my body. Every ache is gone. My muscles, usually aching after a day at the community centre, feel loose.

And best of all, my mind is clear.

If I behaved like a fucking animal on that daybed—literally, afuckinganimal, unleashed on the most beautiful, captive prey I’d ever encountered, this last round was an exercise in restraint.

In taking it slow.

Letting Lotta open herself up to me while I enjoyed every inch of her body and fucked her so hard and slow that I had her screaming for me to put me out of her misery.

I liked that a lot.

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