Page 18 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

Again.

He shifts angles and...oh god... he hits something that makes the sparks erupt even faster behind my eyelids.

My back arches off the mattress, a broken sob catching in my throat as the pleasure sharpens.

Nothing else matters. Only this... the brutal fullness, the delicious friction, the way his growl vibrates through my bones when I clench around him.

“Close—” I gasp into the hollow of his throat, the word splintering as he slams home.

My body betrays me, my hips rolling upward, chasing...

Needing...

Begging.

His breath hitches... he growls a single fractured “Mine” against my skin before his teeth sink into the tendon of my neck.

The bite undoes me.

Pleasure detonates inside me... there’s no slow burn, no cresting wave... just ashattering.

“Leo—!Leo—!”

My cries erupt in time to his thrusts, my vision graying at the edges as my body locks around him.

Somewhere beyond the haze, his eyes meet mine. They’re wild, unfocused.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his pounding becoming even deeper, more frantic.

No condom.

Again the thought flickers through my mind, a brief spark of panic in the overwhelming sensory flood, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears. It’s too late. Everything is too late.

His pace quickens, driving towards his own release. He throws his head back, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as he cums, his body convulsing, his cock pulsing deep inside me, flooding me with his heat.

He collapses on top of me, his full weight pressing me into the mattress, his ragged breath hot against my ear.

We lie there, tangled and slick with sweat, the only sound our harsh breathing in the aftermath of the storm.

My body is trembling, bruised, aching, and yet… humming with a residual pleasure so intense it leaves me dizzy. It was terrifying. It was rough. It was driven by drugs and pure male instinct. And it was, hands down, the most earth-shattering orgasm of my entire life.

God help me.

After a long moment, his breathing evens out. He shifts his weight slightly, rolling onto his side but pulling me with him, tucking me against his chest. His arm wraps around me, holding me close, his hand resting possessively on my hip. His skin is hot, damp. He nuzzles his face into my hair, murmuring something incoherent.

He’s cuddling me. Afterthat, he’s cuddling me.

The sudden tenderness after the raw intensity is jarring, confusing. My mind struggles to reconcile the two Leos... the primal, drug-fueled animal and this warm, heavy body holding me like I’m something precious.

Will he even remember this?

The thought lands with a cold thud in my chest. He took GHB. When he wakes up tomorrow, maybe he’ll have vague impressions of what happened, but probably nothing concrete. This intensity, this connection, it’s only real for me. He’ll be gone in the morning, maybe literally, maybe just emotionally, but either way, I’ll be left with… this. The memory of being completely overwhelmed, possessed, and then treasured, if only for one night.

A wave of profound sadness washes over me, mingling with the physical exhaustion and the lingering thrum of pleasure. I feel used, yet cherished. Desired, yet disposable.

What a toxic cocktail of emotions.

He’s ruined me for other men. No gentle fumbling, no hesitant exploration will ever compare to this raw, consuming intensity. How can I go back to normal after feeling this?

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