Page 76 of Seduced by Her Billionaire Fake Fiancé

Even the way he spoke lit little fires through her bloodstream.

“I thought you were more into beer than wine.”

“You don’t know me,” he said, simply, and while it was true, it was also not true, because she’d seen him enough times to have formed a pretty good understanding of Marco and his lifestyle. “But that’s okay. You don’t need to know me to enjoy this.”

Then, he kissed her, and the whole bottom fell completely out of Portia’s world.

Two

HIS LIPS PARTED HERS gently at first, curiously, as though he was tasting her, just like he’d said, as one might sample a wine, his tongue flicking against hers lazily, questioningly. It was a kiss that cracked something open in her belly, causing her whole body to tremble and chasm. She ached to touch him but still he held her hands behind her back, so she was completely his captive, and that only added to the sensual heat assaulting her body.

“Marco,” she said his name with urgency and in lieu of being able to touch him with her hands, she lifted one of her legs, her heel brushing his calf, then lifting higher, to the back of his knee, so her sex was pressed against his and she felt his burgeoning arousal so tantalizingly close and cried out against his mouth. The kiss, which had started so languidly, suddenly changed gears, urgency and desperation in Marco’s every movement, as his tongue began to lash hers and his mouth pressed hard, and the hand holding her wrists broke free, to come up to the back of her head and tangle in her hair, holding her, pressing her forward, against him, his whole body somehow seeming to wrap around hers and command her, demand from her. She could no longer see. There was black in her field of vision and also blinding white; she was acting on instinct alone and every single instinct was telling her she needed Marco: more of him, all of him.

She said his name again and again, interspersed with the word ‘please’, as he lifted her easily and sat her on the edge of the table, standing between her legs, kissing her as he pushed her backwards, his body heavy on hers, his hands roaming all over as his tongue continued to dominate and demand.

“Not prim,” he said with a shake of his head, pushing up and meeting her eyes, a grin on his face tugging at something low in her gut. He’d gotten his answer, but she didn’t want him to stop. Not for anything.

Her own hands found the zip of his jeans and pushed it down, her eyes unknowingly haunted as she revealed his nakedness to herself for the first time it was intended for her.

“Portia,” there was a warning in his voice, a seriousness that went against his usual playboy persona. “We didn’t agree to this,” he lifted the envelope.

“I’ll change it later,” she muttered, cheeks flushed dark.

He stilled, eyes on hers. “You’re sure?”

“You were right about me. I’ve only ever had sex in a bedroom,” she said, trying to make a joke, but it fell flat. “I’m sure,” she said quietly, with determination. She wanted to erase Jack from her, but she also wanted Marco completely, utterly, desperately, and she didn’t dare let logic enter the fray. This wasn’t sensible or rational and she was pretty sure she’d want to disappear afterwards, but these were all contemplations she couldn’t give any weight to in this moment.

He swore. “This is definitely worth being woken up for.”

She sat up, thankfully still having the presence of mind to want to remove her own jacket and shirt. The way he’d been kissing her a second ago, she suspected Marco might rip off the buttons if she let him take care of it. Besides, there was something ultra-empowered about being the one to strip for him. She moved with business-like efficiency, but when she reached her bra, he stilled her hands. “Stop.”

Eyes huge, she looked at him.

“Let me.”

He reached behind her, finding the clasp, but as he unhooked it, his lips dropped to the curve of her neck, and he kissed her there, his stubble dragging across her sensitive skin as his fingers trailed lightly across her back, removing the bra, guiding it down her arms, discarding it on the table top as he lifted his mouth to hers, kissed her, his hands seeking her breasts, fondling them gently at first and then with more insistence, so she arched her back and cried out, white hot fever spreading through her as pleasure threatened to burst like a wave over her entire body.

She couldn’t think or speak or do anything but feel as a wave of so much desire exploded through her she felt the heat between her legs intensifying, moist need making her groan her desire for him.

He swore again as he unfastened her trousers, his mouth shifting to one of her breasts as he cupped her bottom, lifting her so he could remove the pants from her, taking her underwear with it, leaving her naked and exposed on the edge of the table, and far too turned on to care.

“Not at all prim,” he muttered when he returned his mouth to her other breast, taking her nipple between his teeth and pressing down on it just hard enough to make her cry his name, to wriggle her hips. It was an invitation he didn’t need to hear twice; his hand separated her thighs, his fingers brushing her sex lightly at first so she jumped, because it had been a long time since she’d been with a guy, and even with Jack, he hadn’t touched her like this. It had always been a perfunctory, practiced coming together.

This was so different. Everything was different.

Marco kissed her hard, pressing her back against the table, before dragging his mouth down her body, between her breasts, over her flat stomach, to the apex of hair at the top of her legs, his tongue flicking her sex before sucking on the most sensitive cluster of nerves, making her whimper and cry out, making her groan, making her almost half-dead.

“Marco!”

“Come for me,cara,” he commanded, the invitation rolling through her, so she twisted from one side to the other as a passion fever tormented her, drove her totally wild, and his tongue lashed her, his fingers moved inside of her, his other reached up, twisted her nipple and then she was coming in a way she’d never experienced, so hard, fast, so completely, it was like drowning and being burned alive all at once, it was euphoric and excruciating.

She barely had time to catch her breath. He disappeared but she was still coming down off the high, the waves crashing around her as he left the room, and then returned with a strip of metallic squares, tearing one off and rolling the condom over his length.

“You want this to happen? You’re sure?” He asked, eyes holding hers, his own cheeks slashed a deep purple.

She nodded, but somehow, out of somewhere, sanity asserted itself just for a moment. “No one can know,” she said, pressing a hand to his chest. “My job…means everything to me.”It’s all I have left.“This never happened.”

His eyes flicked across her face. “I’m not planning to sing it from the rooftops. My brother would kill me.”

---