Page 63 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

Then he’s moving, setting a rhythm that’s both punishing and divine. Each thrust drives me closer to the edge again, each withdrawal leaving me desperate for more.

I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. Our bodies move together with an urgency that speaks of more than just physical need.

When I feel myself tightening around him again, I gasp, “Dom, I’m going to—”

“Cum for me,” he commands, his pace quickening. “Let me feel you.”

My second orgasm hits harder than the first, tearing a scream from my throat as my entire body convulses. He follows moments later, his release triggering aftershocks that leave me trembling beneath him.

For several long moments, we lie tangled together, sweaty and spent, the only sound our ragged breathing. Reality creeps back slowly, bringing with it the weight of what we’ve just done.

This was supposed to be simple. Clinical.

No full intercourse.

No emotions.

No complications.

He rolls to the side, his arm still draped across my waist. I wait for him to speak, to acknowledge what just happened, but he remains silent, his expression unreadable.

Finally, I find my voice. “So... clause fulfilled?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. Then he sits up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Right. Of course.”

I pull the sheet up to cover myself, a barrier against the sudden chill in the air between us. “Dom, I didn’t mean—”

“No, you’re right.” He stands, gathering his clothes with mechanical efficiency. “Just fulfilling the clause.”

He slips off the condom and fists it in one hand. As he zips up and buckles his jeans, I watch him rebuild his walls in real time, his expression hardening, his movements becoming more controlled now that he’s had his release.

“Dom,” I try again.

“Good night, Tatiana.” He doesn’t look at me as he heads for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The door closes behind him with a soft click that feels somehow more final than a slam.

I lie back against the pillows, my body still humming with satisfaction even as my mind races with confusion.

What the hell just happened? And why does it feel so complicated now?

I pull the covers up to my chin, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions warring inside me. Physical fulfillment battling with emotional uncertainty. Professional detachment crumbling under the weight of undeniable chemistry.

One thing is absolutely, terrifyingly clear: no man has ever made me feel the way Dominic Rossi just did. Not even my ex-fiancé who left me standing alone at the altar. The way Dom fucked me tonight... he’s absolutely ruined me for other men.

And that scares me more than anything else about this entire twisted arrangement.

Sixteen more days, Tatiana. Just sixteen more days.

But as I drift toward sleep, I’m no longer certain that countdown is something to look forward to.

18

Tatiana

Working late in Dom’s penthouse is doing absolutely nothing to quiet my brain. It’s been twenty-four hours since... well, since what was supposed to be a clinical contract fulfillment turned into the kind of mind-blowing sex that ruins a girl. Not that I’m admitting that out loud. Ever.

Real professional, Tatiana. Get dicked down by your temporary husband and now you can’t focus on a simple vendor contract.

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