Page 131 of Billionaire Romance

I step away from him, leaving him bruised and covered in pie and shards of glass. “Stay the hell out of my life,” I yell, before I stride up the alley, still covered in pie splatter myself. I don’t care. A few of the women watching cheer, and I flash them smiles. Then I keep walking, straight past, up the streets until I reach the one I’m looking for.

I walk into the lobby of Ankor’s office, still drenched head to toe in dripping blackberry pie. I leave purple and black stains across the marble entryway. The doorman takes one look at me, his eyes huge, and leaps forward, hand extended.

I stop him with a glance. “I’m going to Marco’s office,” I say, my tone brooking no room for disagreement.

His mouth hangs open. For a moment, I’m worried he’ll stop me, or worse, try to call security about the crazy woman covered in pie. But his eyes narrow, and he seems to do a double-take, before they widen in recognition. I’ve been in here with Ankor before. Not dressed like this and certainly never with jam and berries all over me, but still. He recognizes me.

“Of course, Miss,” he says, after only the briefest hesitation. “Take the last elevator, please.” He opens the door for me and hits Ankor’s floor. The top floor.

I smile. “Thank you.”

Still looking completely confused by my appearance, he nods. “My pleasure.” Then the doors slide shut and I square my shoulders.

* * *

The entire office floor falls silent when they see me. Eyebrows shoot up in every direction. I recognize a few of the people from Ankor’s team who he’s introduced me to. I don’t stop to say hello or explain. I walk straight past them all, to the corner office with the huge windows overlooking the park and the city skyline beyond.

He’s on the phone when I enter, with his back to me. I shut the door behind me and flip the switch next to the lights that lowers the curtains over the glass wall, cutting us off from view of the rest of the office.

Ankor turns in his chair, still chatting, something about making sure it doesn’t get any worse online, when he freezes, his eyes going huge, mouth slack in surprise. To his credit, he recovers after a split second. “I’ll have to call you back.” He hangs up the phone and stands, coming around his desk. “Sinclair, my god. Are you all right? What’s that all over you?”

I walk toward him without a word.

He tilts his head as I get closer, frowning. “Is that… pie?”

I fling my arms around his neck and pull his face to mine, kissing him, hard. He hesitates, but only for an instant. Then his arms go around my waist, and he kisses me back, his tongue parting my lips, his mouth crushed against mine. I taste blackberries and buttery crust.

His hands slide down my hips, but I catch them and draw them away, then push him lightly backward, until he’s leaning against his desk. He chuckles softly, eying me with his brows lifted. “Whatever’s gotten into you today, Sinclair, I like it.”

“I’m just getting started, believe me,” I reply with a grin. Then I grab his shirt and yank, hard. Buttons fly in every direction. Behind us, the blinds have finished closing, so the rest of the office can’t see us, at least. But Ankor seems to know I mean business. He reaches across his desk to tap a button near the side, and music fills the room, something low and thrumming. I flash him a grin as I push his shirt the rest of the way off.

Then I grab the belt of his pants.

“I want to feel you inside me,” I whisper as I undo his belt. Then his zipper. Finally, I shove his jeans roughly toward the floor, leaving only his boxers in the way. I run my hands over his chest, his pecs, his abs. I trace the V leading down to his groin with gentle fingers and slip my hands beneath the hem of his boxers.

He groans, low and deep in the back of his throat. “Sinclair…”

The way he says my name always undoes me.

I guide him toward his office chair and push him into it. He sits with a wide grin, and reaches up to grab my waist, pulling me across his lap.

“What’s gotten into you today?” he murmurs, kissing my neck. “Besides pie.”

“What’s gotten into me is realizing you were right,” I tell him. I take his face between my hands and tilt it back, until he’s looking up at me, still smiling. I trace my fingertips over his cheekbones, his jawline. “You told me once that I was brave.”

“Once?” He shakes his head. “Sinclair, I should tell you that every damn day—”

I press my index finger over his lips to quiet him. He kisses my fingertip but falls quiet. “You told me I could do anything. That I was a warrior. Well, you were right.” I grin at him. “I am brave. Being with you taught me that.” I reach down between us, and with that, yank his boxers the rest of the way off.

I trace my hands over his cock, even as he slides his hands down my hips to grip my skirt. He pushes it up around my waist. “My warrior, huh?” He grins up at me.

“Your warrior,” I tell him, spreading my legs to either side of his waist. He draws me onto his lap, and I arch my body against him, positioning his cock beneath me. I lower myself onto his cock slowly, taking my time. Savoring every inch as the tip pushes past my entrance and into my pussy. I keep my hands on Ankor’s waist, pinning him against his chair as I ride him, slow at first, but then building up the pace.

He holds me above him, hands on my hips. Guiding me at first, until we start to move faster, harder. Then he tightens his grip on me, fucking me hard, driving up into me as I let my head fall back, my hair a mess across my face. “Right there, oh, fuck yes,” I hear myself gasping.

He drops one hand between us and presses his thumb against my clit as I ride him, and I can’t help it. Even though I know his whole office is probably out there listening to what we’re doing in here over the loud music he’s playing, I let out a cry of pleasure.

“That’s it, come for me, Sinclair,” he whispers against my neck. His finger presses against my clit a little harder, and he bucks up against me, making my hips move, driving into me over and over.

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