Page 45 of Jealous Billionaire's Endless Regret

“Fuck…!” he took a sharp breath in, his body tout and jerking into her hand.

The heat of him burned in her palm as she gently stroked, the smooth skin taut over the veins that throbbed with urgency. He was hard and heavy in her hands, and the sight of her so close, so submissive, made his jaw clench.

Her other hand slid up to her torso, caressing his stomach, his abs.

“I want your mouth,” Lorenzo said, his voice rough and urgent.

His hand shot up to his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons before ripping the fabric open and tearing the shirt off his body in one careless motion. He tossed it aside without a second thought.

Krystal’s hand moved slower now, tracing teasing circles along his length. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the tip with slow, delicate laps that sent a sharp intake of breath through him.

“God… yes,” he groaned, every muscle tightening under her touch. “Just like that.”

She parted her lips, taking the head of him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the sensitive flesh. Heat and tension coiled tightly in Lorenzo’s body, each stroke pulling him closer to the edge.

“Take more,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “I want to feel your throat around me.”

Krystal pulled back just enough to tease, then leaned in deeper, taking him further down. Her tongue flicked and swirled, her hand sliding smoothly over the shaft, stroking what her mouth couldn’t reach. Her other hand cupped his balls with gentle pressure, kneading softly.

A low, guttural groan rumbled from deep in his chest, his body responding to every touch, every movement—every breath she took for him.

In the background, the distant noise of the outside world blurred—none of it mattered. All she could hear was the sound of his breathing, rough and uneven, and the soft, wet sounds of her lips working around him.

“Fuck… I want to fuck you so bad…”

Lorenzo slammed his palm hard against the wall to keep himself from losing it. His chest heaved, muscles taut, but his eyes stayed locked—glued—to Krystal’s delicate mouth wrapped around the swollen, flushed head of his rod. Every time her lips moved, he imagined how that softness would feel wrapped around the rest of him.

“Suck it in your mouth,” he growled, voice low and raw with frustration. A sharp hiss left him when her teeth barely grazed the sensitive tip before her tongue soothed over it.

He reached down, fingers tangling in her hair, ready to push her deeper. But she suddenly let go of him. Her lips slipped away from his shaft, leaving it twitching and wet in the cool air. Lorenzo’s eyes darkened instantly with impatience.

Krystal spared him a glance, a quick flick of her eyes that was both defiant and inviting. He looked down at her like a predator ready to pounce—his hunger for her dripping off him in waves. His chest was rising fast, and his cock stood throbbing with rage between his thighs.

She wrapped her lips back around him again, this time tighter. Her inexperience showed—her tongue slid messily, her teeth occasionally scraped him, sending short jolts of pain through his length—but fuck, he didn’t care. The warmth of her mouth around his swollen girth, her lips forming a tight seal, made it impossible to think straight.

She couldn’t take him all in. Only half disappeared between her lips, the rest too thick for her throat. So she used her hand, wrapping it around the base of his rod and stroking slowly while her mouth teased the top. Her tongue flicked and glided, mimicking the rhythm of a thrust, even though her jaw was beginning to ache.

His girth pulsed angrily in her grip, the thick vein on the side throbbing under her fingers, the head red and hot on her tongue. Still, he didn’t cum. Lorenzo clenched his fists, jaw locked, clearly holding back.

Krystal finally pulled away with a gasp, strands of saliva still clinging to her lips and his cock. She looked up at him, frustrated and breathless.

“Why the hell aren’t you cumming?”

Lorenzo didn’t answer with words.

He growled and snatched her up without warning, his hands slipping under her knees as he lifted her effortlessly. She barely had time to gasp before he rammed himself inside her, burying his shaft deep into her dripping core.

He pinned her against the wall with one powerful thrust.

“I think I’m going to fucking die if I don’t fuck this tight little cunt right now,” he snarled, already moving inside her like a man possessed. Every thrust was ruthless, brutal—like he was punishing her body for making him wait.

She cried out, legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his back as he drove into her over and over. “Ahhh… ahhh… fuuuck… Lorenzo—oh God!” she cried out, legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his back as he drove into her over and over.

His grunts were low and animalistic, lips brushing her ear as he whispered filth between groans. And Krystal was nothing but moans and gasps, lost in the storm of his lust.

He drove into her with wild, punishing force, his thick girth stretching her walls with every brutal thrust. His mind was gone—obliterated by lust, raw need, and the heat of her body wrapped tight around him. Nothing else mattered. Not the world, not the noise outside. Just this—justher.

He groaned, his voice low and wrecked. His hips snapped forward, his muscles straining, abs flexing with every movement. His thighs were tight, locked in place, as he pounded into her like a man possessed.

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