Page 30 of Seduced by Her Billionaire Fake Fiancé

“You already have. You’re smart and the figures don’t lie. You know my solution is the right one.”

“I don’t know that,” she said, pulling at his belt now and pushing down his pants, wondering at her insatiable need to see him naked, to touch all of him. She was burning up, hot all over, and so hungry for him to see and touch her, just as he’d done in the car.

“Touch me, Max,” she commanded, eyes wild with need and longing. He hesitated a moment, then with a low, coarse curse, his hands lifted, cupping her breasts, his head tilting back as he swallowed, felt her soft roundness, palmed her over and over, his thumbs brushing her nipples until she was almost at fever point, and then one hand dropped lower, to the waistband of her skirt which, being elastic, offered no obstacle to removal, slipping down her body along with her underpants so she stood completely naked, as was he, in the lounge room of her home.

Andie shivered, but not because it was cold. She’d never been naked with a man before. Never been seen naked, touched, never seen a naked man herself and been at liberty to touch. Suddenly, the tension of the last week and the past few years, all of the emotions that had been swirling and tormenting Andie for so long found the possibility of release in whatever this was with Max. She cleaved herself against him and pushed up onto the tips of her toes, kissing him before she could think this through, kissing him not gently nor slowly, not as one might explore a lover, but with all the anger and irritation she’d felt during their argument. It was an anger that came from how he made her feel when she wasn’t sure she wanted to feel this way for Max. And yet she did, and he was here, and finally, Andie wanted nothing more than to know this pleasure and surrender.

“Touch me,” she cried against his mouth. “Please, touch me, all over,” she said, tilting her head back as he kissed his way down her throat, to her decolletage, grazing his stubbled jaw across her sensitive flesh before roaming hungrily lower, to one of her breasts, which he took into his mouth, sucking her nipple until she was almost driven crazy, unable to see clearly nor to think, staring up at the ceiling, her voice filling the room but with what? Unintelligible sounds, words that had no meaning. One hand parted her legs, fingers pressing against her sex before pushing inside of her, and he groaned.

“I was right,” he briefly moved his mouth back to hers, kissing her there, so her breast was cold and lonely. “You are so wet for me, Andie.”

“I know.” She shamelessly ground her hips lower, against the palm of his hand, acting on ancient feminine instincts, because she had no experience in this department.

“You want this,” he said against her mouth.

“I know.”

“Say it,” he demanded. “Say that you want me.”

“I want you,” she repeated, and she did, to the exclusion of all logical or reasonable thought, so it didn’t even occur to Andie to tell him she was a virgin, that she’d never done this before. Before didn’t matter. It was irrelevant. There was only this moment, and their undeniable need for one another.

“I want you,” she cried louder, at the top of her lungs, when his fingers between her legs worked their magic and suddenly she was tumbling into a darkened abyss and then exploding into the heavens, flying amongst the stars, heat and colour, the past and future, all mixing and meshing to coexist inside Andie in that one, splendiferous moment, and then another moment and another, as the wave continued to claim her.

But even as she was still on that wave, riding him, Max removed his hands and lifted Andie at the hips, carrying her easily the few steps it took to reach the sofa, where he lay her down and disappeared a moment, but Andie was in heaven and didn’t open her eyes to look. Her body was on fire; it required all of her attention. He returned quickly anyway, and he kissed her hard and passionately, spreading her legs once more. Only this time it wasn’t his fingers he used to explore her most sensitive places, but his big, rock-hard cock, which he thrust into her with all the pent up frustration and need that was also simmering in his body, hard and fast, taking her, claiming her in one sharp movement that made Andie cry out, digging her nails into his shoulder as pain broke through the pleasure and her eyes widened in shock.

But that shock was nothing compared to the emotions she saw on Max’s face.

Shock and outrage.

“What the hell?” He ground out.

But the pain, as sharp and all-consuming as it had been, was disappearing, and Andie rolled her hips, adjusting to the feeling of this fullness and possession, finding that she liked it. She liked it a lot. “Don’t stop,” she murmured, her nails dragging down his back now, curving around his bottom, pushing him deeper.

He swore into her mouth as he kissed her, an angry kiss, or perhaps it was just overwhelmed by passion, but it was exactly how she felt, anyway; she kissed him back in just the same way, as though she was trying to communicate with her mouth, and not by using words.

Every moment of this brought a new level of delirium to her. She was out of breath, panting, crying, feeling a thousand things too many, too much to process, full of pleasure and anticipation and being stretched and pleasured and rebuilt as someone she hardly recognized: a woman driven by passion alone. And then she was exploding again, just like before, different but the same, stars in her eyes and fires in her lungs, pleasure tingling to the extremities of her body and refusing to quit, so she was like a livewire, totally overcome with feeling, and it only grew more intense as he chased after her, burying himself completely inside Andie, dropping his head into the crook of her neck, his body wracked by his own pleasure as he rode the same wave she was cresting over, holding her close as they exploded in unison.

Eight

MAX DIDN’T WANT TO THINK through the implications of what had just happened. He knew that once he started thinking, he’d go down a rabbit hole of regret and he didn’t have time for that. Right now, he needed to act. He pulled away from Andie quickly, standing, not looking at her as he strode into the bathroom and disposed of his condom then started the bath running. He stared at himself in the mirror, blue eyes laced with recrimination as he replayed every bit of their interaction for signs that should have told him what she was: totally inexperienced.

He'd treated her like an equal.

Like someone who’d had multiple sexual partners, who was comfortable with that part of themselves, and instead, she’d been innocent.

A virgin.

In the back of the car, she’d gone wild at the simplest touch. He’d thought that was just their chemistry, but now he saw the flipside, remembered every flinch when he’d touched her lightly—not because she felt the electrical spark between them but because she had no experience with men, with being touched intimately.

He groaned, dropped his head forward, angry with her, angry with himself, just flat out angry, then grimaced, stalking out of the bathroom, back to the lounge, where Andie was in the process of sitting up, her expression impossible to decipher.

He felt like he’d been punched in the gut to think he might have hurt her.

Unknowingly, when he’d taken her, he’d been so driven by passion, by the sparks of their argument, it hadn’t occurred to him to go slowly. She’d been so turned on, so ready for him, or so he’d thought.

He bit back another groan, closing the distance between them and standing with his hands on his hips, staring at her for several beats.

She refused to look at him.

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