Page 33 of Engaged to London's Wildest Billionaire

He did it again and she moaned, heat flooding between her thighs. His lips descended, teasing hers. She parted for him, and their tongues touched as she melted into the rhythm of the kiss. Not hard and taking, but something far hotter, gentle and coaxing, as if he was leading her slowly to anticipate the pleasure he’d promised. The care he showed cracked something inside her, emotion welling through her like lava from a volcanic fissure. He began to pull away and she chased the kiss, not wanting him to see how he was shattering her.

He didn’t let her win that little battle between them. Lance rolled on top of her, the sheet and coverlet caught between them. The hardness of him pressed at the centre of her.

‘You said you weren’t exactly a virgin. What does that mean? It tends to be a state of being you either are or you aren’t.’

His voice was kind but the words... They brought that horrible, humiliating memory rushing back. The searing pain. The disappointment. She shut her eyes, but it didn’t stop her recollecting that awful night.

‘Sara, we need to communicate. Whatever happened to you, it wasn’t good, and I need to know because tonight’sallabout you.’

His thumbs brushed her temples, back and forth, soothing her. She had to get past this, the feeling that she somehowlacked, because of the way Ferdinand had made her feel that night. She took a deep breath and simply started.

‘He said if we tried it might make our wedding night less fraught.’ She wouldn’t look Lance in the eye but stared at the ceiling over his shoulder, the ornate cornices embossed with gold leaf. His hands eased into her hair, stroking her scalp in a soothing rhythm. ‘It sounded like a sensible idea. So we did. It...hurt a lot.’

The fingers in her hair clenched, and her scalp stung for a fleeting moment before Lance relaxed them.

‘Tell me he stopped.’

His words were a hiss through clenched teeth. It had been her former fiancé’s one act of kindness that evening. He’d stopped immediately. No attempt to comfort her, just a suggestion that things might be better if she had a few drinks beforehand, maybe at the wedding, then left her. Probably to go to his lover. How she’d tormented herself with that thought over the subsequent days, that her failure in bed had chased him away.

‘Yes. He didn’t...finish. He went away.’

Lance dropped his forehead to hers. ‘Thank you for telling me. I know it was difficult.’ His voice was soft, soothing. ‘But in this bed I want you only to have pleasure, and to do that I need you to feel able to tell me what you don’t want, as much as what you do.’

‘What if I’m not really sure what I want?’

The corners of Lance’s lips curled in a smile of unadulterated wickedness. His hips flexed into her and the feel of him, hard between her legs, almost made her eyes roll back into her head. As she moved to meet his rhythm, a tantalising pressure began to build deep inside.

‘Trust me when I say I have plenty of ideas of what it will take to have you an unintelligible mess of sensation in under ten minutes.’

Her breath caught. There wasn’t enough air in the room. Her head spun because theintentin his words...

‘You sound very certain of yourself.’

He grazed his teeth over the shell of her ear, his breath teasing her throat.

‘I am,’ he growled. She slid her hands beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts, grabbing the taut muscles of his backside, her nails digging hard into his flesh and trying to pull him closer as he continued to rock against her body.

‘Too many clothes,’ she panted into his mouth and felt his smile against her lips.

‘Greedy. We’re doing slow.’

The explosion of that promise roared through her as she shivered with need. He pulled away, and she might have whimpered as he closed his mouth over the fabric of her top and sucked at her nipple, raking his teeth over the tight bud then sucking some more, the sensation arrowing like an electric shock between the juncture of her thighs. He turned his attention to her other nipple, which wasn’t quite as sensitive.

‘You prefer the left to the right. I’ll remember that.’ He lifted her top high, settled on the left nipple once more, sucking, teasing with his teeth. Slipping his hand down below the waistband of her sleep shorts, but not to where she wanted him most, teasing but never going far enough. Driving her wild until she twisted and squirmed underneath him, trying to get close, to rub her aching core against him. Then he stopped. She let out a moan of frustration and he chuckled.

‘I reward good girls who do what I ask.’ Heat flashed over her. If self-combustion was possible, this bed would be her funeral pyre. ‘Lie still.’

She obeyed immediately. His smile was pure wickedness as he leaned over her, kissing down her chest, her belly, settling himself between her thighs. He grabbed the waistband of her shorts and she felt his breath at the centre of her as he slid them from her body.

‘Open your legs wider,’ he murmured, his lips teasing as he skimmed his tongue over her inner thighs. Her legs relaxed as she panted his name over and over. ‘That’s it. So perfect for me.’ He settled between them, easing them wider till she was splayed out like an offering on the altar of his bed.

‘I can’t wait to taste you. It’s all I’ve dreamed of.’

He’d dreamed of this?

‘Please...’she moaned, not caring how wanton it sounded, the burning ache raging between her thighs making her lose her mind, all of her one bright, burning nerve-ending. He didn’t move, just looked at her, thumbs circling close, but never close enough, his breath between her legs, warm on her oversensitive flesh. Her thighs trembled in anticipation.

‘So sweet and wet for me.’ His tongue licked the centre of her and she arched her back, bright lights bursting behind her eyes. There was no time for her to think about what he was doing, or that she should perhaps be embarrassed, with his tongue at the heart of her, his mouth working a slow rhythm. Licking, swirling, sucking. She closed her eyes because she couldn’t stand it any more.

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