Page 117 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

I lean my forehead against the cool marble tiles, letting the water sluice over me, washing away the grime of the day, the lingering anxiety, the confusing residue of… Leo.

I stay under the water for a long time, shampooing my hair twice just because I can, letting the expensive, subtly scented body wash he keeps stocked lather my skin. It smells… expensive. Like him. Which is probably not helpful for maintaining boundaries, but damn, it smells good.

I feel a sudden warm ache between my legs when I think of him, and I can’t help but start touching myself.

The water cascades hot and relentless over my skin, steam curling like a lover’s breath against my neck.

My fingers massage my clit with a pressure that borders on cruel.

Him.

The memory of his mouth, his hands, the way he’d growled“Mine”fills my mind.

I press my forehead to the slick tile, my hips arching into my touch. I kiss the tiles, pretending the hard surface belongs to his lips. Or his cock.

I slip two fingers inside myself and violently circle my clit with my thumb.

Leo Leo Leo.

The ache builds inside me, a coil of fire tightening until my breath hitches and I’m biting my lip hard enough to taste blood.

“Leo,”I whisper as I cum, my knees buckling, my back arching.

The spray drowns my cry as the aftershocks ripple through me, and I barely stay on my feet.

A wave of contentment fills me.

Leo.

As the orgasmic pulses fade, I realize I haven’t even fully rinsed the conditioner out of my hair, so I straighten and start doing that.

Then the shower door rattles open. I whirl in shock, water and conditioner sluicing down my bare shoulders.

Leo stands there. Naked. Leaning slightly against the doorframe, his weight off his injured leg. Water droplets cling to his hair, his shoulders, his well-muscled chest that looks like it was sculpted by some ridiculously talented Renaissance artist with a penchant for perfection. The stark evidence of his Chamonix nightmare is there, too... a jagged line across his right shoulder, another snaking down his side and disappearing below his hip. One particularly nasty welt traces the line of his right ribcage.

His green eyes are fixed intenselyon me. He’s hard already. His thick cock stands fully-erect, the head slicked faintly with pre-cum and twitching with need.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he drawls, his voice rough as gravel. A droplet slides down the scar bisecting his ribs, that jagged souvenir from Chamonix. My throat goes dry.

He pushes away from the doorframe, taking a hesitant step into the massive shower stall, leaving his cane propped just outside. He moves stiffly, carefully, but with undeniable purpose into the spray.

“Though next time,” he murmurs, his fingertips skimming the goosebumps on my arm, “let me hear you properly when you play.”

“I… I thought you were working,” I stammer, backing up instinctively until my bare back hits the cool marble tiles on the far side. The stall suddenly feels much, much smaller.

“Changed my mind,” he says, closing the distance between us. “When I saw you kissing the wall like those were my lips, I got jealous.” He shrugs.

He stops just inches away. The heat from his body mingles with the steam. Water streams over his shoulders, down his chest, catching in the groomed pubic hair that arrows down to his impressive erection. “Besides, this seemed like a much better use of my time.”

His gaze drops, sweeping over me, lingering on my breasts, my belly, the triangle of dark curls between my legs. My skin flushes hot under his scrutiny. All my post-baby body insecurities roar back to life.

He’s seeing everything. The softness, the stretch marks…

“Don’t,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking back up tomeet mine, seeming to read my thoughts. He reaches out, his wet hand gently cupping my cheek.

“Don’t hide.” His thumb strokes my chin. “You’re beautiful, Sabrina. Fucking breathtaking. Always have been. From the moment I laid eyes on you.”

The raw sincerity in his voice, the heat in his eyes… it melts my insecurities like ice under the hot spray. He thinks I’m beautiful?Me?After the models, the actresses?

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