Page 50 of Billionaire's Second Chance

I nodded, waiting to see what she had in mind.

She pulled my hand and led me toward the metal railing at the end of the yacht. In that part of the boat, only the light of the moon shone above us. She reached for my pants, unbuckled my belt, released the button and the zipper, and slid her hand inside my boxers. Her eyes sparkled as she felt my fully-erect penis.

Blood had already gushed to my head, clouding all judgment and filling it with pure lust. But I wanted her to take the lead tonight. I wouldn't do anything she didn't want me to do.

"I want you here," she looked up at me, eyes full of desire.

She lifted her dress, sled down her panties, and turned around to face the water. I froze for a moment, admiring the view before me. Then I grabbed her ass, spread her legs, tilted her back forward, and slid inside her with one thrust. She moaned loudly and turned to look at me, biting her lower lip.

The boat's motion only eased our movements, and we became one with the ocean's waves. With slow, gentle strokes, I grew inside her, feeling her warm juices flow. As her moans grew louder and her breathing faster, so did my pace. I cupped her breasts and squeezed them tight as I felt her legs shaking and my heart racing. Her body bounced against mine a few more times, and we both yelled and rolled our eyes back in ecstasy.

The wind blew over our faces as we stared at each other. Ava buried her head in my chest and squeezed her tight.

I won't let you go again, Ava.

"Damon, I don't feel so good," she looked up at me, holding her mouth.

15

Ava

"Whatthefuckishappening," I grunted as I leaned over the toilet again.

My evening with Damon on his boat had come to an abrupt end two days ago, as the nausea had become unbearable. But I had blamed the waves that day. So, what was it today? Could it be food poisoning from the catering on set? I'd have Greg look into it and yell at them. This was unacceptable.

I washed my face and brushed my teeth, staring at my reflection. An uncomfortable thought crept to the surface of my mind. I shook my head.

There's no way I was pregnant. I had only slept with him twice, and he had used a condom each time. That night in his house, after he brought me to a climax with his tongue, he had carried me to his bedroom, opened up the drawer of his nightstand, pulled out a condom, and slid it on. I remembered it clear as day. In fact, that's all I could think about—his statuesque body, leaning over me, his perfect penis, erect and ready for me.

The calendar on my wall read June twenty-second. My period was due on June eighteenth, but of course, it was a little late. I was under so much stress.

It's definitely food poisoning.

***

“You’ve been staring out the window for the past five minutes,” Greg’s voice filtered into my ears.

He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his coffee cup.

Five minutes? I thought it was more. My eyes wouldn’t stay steady until they found something to latch onto, conjuring vivid images of Damon in my mind.

“You ready for today’s shoot?” He turned to look at me.

“Yeah. Sure,” I replied meekly.

Today’s scene would include more intimacy between Derek and me, which made me hesitant and nervous. I could pretend it was Damon.

“Derek seems like a nice guy,” Greg comforted me.

“I don’t kiss all nice guys,” I jerked in my seat.

Wild thoughts raced through my head in HD after last night.

“Will Damon be on set today?” I blurted.

Greg glanced at me. I know. My question was uncalled for. Of course, he would be on set. He was the producer, after all.

“No, he's not coming in today.” Greg's response startled me.

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