Page 38 of The Damaged Billionaire

“Now I want you to come on my cock,” he says, his voice deep, as his hand grabs my breast and he lowers his mouth, encasing my nipple again, the feeling shooting through me to my core.

“Oh God,” I moan, speeding up my rhythm, chasing the high.

“I fucking love your body,” he mumbles from where his head is buried.

“Tennyson…” I whimper, about to come, his words, his hands, his desire almost all-consuming.

“I’ve got you, Willow.” His lips find mine, his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me to him.

“Tennyson, I’m going to—” I pant, moaning as our foreheads meet, our eyes glued to each other. The swirl of emotions between us is intense.

“Come for me, Willow, come on my cock,” he demands, and I lean back. As his hands land on my waist, he lifts me on and off him like I weigh nothing, my body now humming entirely into another universe, and I do as he asks.

“Tennyson. Oh God…” I pant over and over as my orgasm rushes through me.

“Fuck, Willow,” I hear him grit out, then he roars so loud as he comes with me that it echoes around the room, his hands squeezing my flesh as he thrusts into me, giving me everything.

He falls back onto the sofa, pulling me with him, and I lay on his chest. The two of us are panting, a light sheen of sweat on our bodies as we come down from our high. My head rests in the crook of his neck, and I look out his living room window, seeing the cityscape below.

“Tennyson?” I say quietly, the impact of what we are doing now hitting me. This isn’t sex. This is more. Much more. I have no idea what it is, having not ever experienced anything like this before.

“I know, Cupcake. I know,” he says as his hand runs up and down my bare back, strumming my skin. Our breathing is now synchronized, his hand not wavering, and we sit here with each other, naked, in each other's arms, both of us deep in thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE - TENNYSON

I delivered on my target. We are up to six already, and even though it is late, we are both still wide awake. I love making her come. I think it might be my favorite thing to do. In fact, there is a lot I love about this woman. I love a challenge and the fact that she keeps pushing me, whether in my work, in my personal life, or just with her fiery banter. I get off on it. I get off on her.

After making her come on my tongue in the shower, I watch her from where I stand in the bathroom. She lies on top of my bed, completely naked, looking better and better every time I see her.

“You owe me two pairs of underwear,” she murmurs.

“Two?” I ask, smirking, walking to the door and leaning against the frame.

“You took my underwear in New York, and you ripped the ones I had on today,” she says, smiling at me.

“I’ll buy your some more, because I can guarantee you that I will be ripping the majority,” I tell her, because the urgency I have around her is surprising. I can hardly wait until she is naked to have her. I lean against the bathroom door, watching her. Enamored.

“Have you ever bought women underwear before?” she asks me, and the question stalls me for a beat.

“No. Never,” I say, wondering where this line of questioning is going.

“Never, ever?” she asks, her eyebrow rising.

“Never. Ever. But it sounds like I am about to start.”

“Have you ever bought a cupcake for a woman before?” I smile as I think about that lemon cupcake I got her when I interrupted her date.

“No. Can’t say I have ever bought that either,” I tell her honestly.

“How many times have you flown a helicopter to save a woman from her disaster of a date?” she quips, giving me a little smile, clearly liking this game of researching my previous history with females.

“Only once. Flew it to DC to rescue this girl who is the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She is funny too. And smart. She is a successful businesswoman, yet is perfectly at ease cooking cupcakes in her kitchen. She can run a business meeting with her eyes closed, yet wear adorable fuzzy socks to bed every night,” I tell her, unable to help the wide smile that comes to my face.

“Wow, she sounds like a catch,” she teases.

“She is, and I am the lucky bastard who caught her. I also don’t plan on letting her go.”

“Is that so?” she smarts, her eyes lighting up.

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