Page 85 of The Reluctant Billionaire

His body tending to mine. Making me feel everything I knew he was capable of.

I was so right.

His tongue picks up. His licks become rougher. The twists of his fingers inside me grow harder. The heat coursing through my body grows ever stronger.

‘Fuck me hard when you’re done, honey,’ I say softly, and I hear a low, pained grunt which I’ll take as a resoundingyes.

When I peak, it’s a thing of such beauty it takes my breath away. My soul soars as my entire body tenses with the effort of not screaming out. Instead I allow myself ragged, breathy whimpers as I shake out my orgasm on Aide’s magic, generous tongue and mouth and fingers. I’m barely through it before he’s clambering to his feet, and hauling me to mine, and unhooking my bra, and shrugging it and my dress off my shoulders, and kissing me desperately, before he spins me around and bends me over my plexiglass desk.

My thong is peeled down my legs and then he’s stepping right up behind me and pressing his wool-clad legs against mine as he lines himself up and pushes inside me, hard.

I gasp as my cheek hits the cool plexiglass, as Aide’s hand brushes my hair impatiently out of the way so he can hold me in place with a firm hand against the base of my neck. With his other hand, he grips my hip tightly as he begins to move inside me.

Jesus Christ. It feelsso fucking good.

‘Fuck, Lotts,’ he’s panting out. ‘Shit. You feel like nothing else. Fuckinghell. I want to fuck this beautiful cunt into next weekend.’

Somehow, I’ve found myself spending my Thursday lunchtime naked and bent over my desk at work, being railed from behind by a gorgeous billionaire in a three-piece suit, whose oversized dick is matched only by his oversized heart.

He is revelling in this. My beautiful Aide, who usually bears the weight of the world on his shoulders, is allowing me to be the channel for his unravelling. These aren’t the thrusts, the grunts, the filthy muttered endearments, of a man holding back.

They’re those of my favourite caveman. The only person on earth who’s capable of making me feel like this.

Iknewit.

I knew, as soon as I saw him, that he’d be very, very good at getting his hands dirty.

32

AIDE

Imay be in the type of swanky, wanky Mayfair restaurant I usually avoid like the plague, but I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself, and that has nothing to do with the swanky, wanky crowd around me and everything to do with the woman sitting opposite me.

The woman whose in-fucking-credible body I devoured in the quiet splendour of her office at lunchtime.

The woman who let meinsideher body, let me bend her over and fuck her hard and fast on her desk because I was so far past being able to hold back.

I gaze at her.

I still cannot believe I get to beinside her body.

She, of course, looks like she was made for this place. I suppose I do too, to the untuned eye, in my Savile Row suit and Armani tie. But, unlike me, Lotta’s totally at home here. She’s also the most beautiful woman in the room by a mile, and, let me tell you, there are a lot ofveryexpensive hookers loitering by the bar area. And it’s not just her beauty. It’s the whole fucking package. Her elegance. Poise. Intelligence. Charm.

Carlotta Montefiore-Charlton is a class act.

She shifts in her seat a little as she peruses the drinks menu.

I lean forward. ‘Feeling sore?’ I enquire in a low voice.

I love the self-conscious smile that washes over her face at my question.

‘A little tender,’ she admits, inclining her swanlike neck. It’s on full display given she’s put her hair up. She’s also applied heavier eye makeup for this evening, and whatever she’s done makes her look even more goddess-like, makes the huge brown doe eyes staring at me even more mesmerising.

‘Poor baby.’ I reach across the table and brush the pad of my thumb over a couple of her rings. I give her a wolfish grin. ‘I’ll make it all better later.’

The part of me that’s a civilised human being is gutted that I’ve made her sore, but a horrifyingly large part of me loves that she’s sitting here in this flashy restaurant, surrounded by posh twats, and that it’smycock she can still feel in the place that none of them will ever get near.

Not on my watch, at least.

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