Page 90 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

He spins us around and presses me to the door, cupping my face, kissing me senseless. One steely thigh presses brazenly between my legs.

“Oh my god, I love this already,” I gasp into his mouth.

My hands find their way under his jacket, fumbling to get his shirt free of his belt, desperately seeking skin.

He lets off long enough to shrug off his suit jacket. It disappears and he’s on me again. I press my fingers into his warm, muscular back.

He nips my lip, then kisses me some more, like he can never get enough. He kisses my cheek, my nose, my other cheek, my forehead, and then he’s back on me, pressing into me deliciously.

I whimper a little, moving with him—much as I can, considering most of me is flattened by his big, hard body and wonderfully cucumbery cock.

He slides his hands under my skirt, palms my ass, and hauls me up.

I swing my legs around him, wrap my arms around his neck. I’m a lust-crazed barnacle, totally glomming onto this guy. “Yes,” I whisper.

He whomps me against the door and we make out, all dirty and sweet. He holds me tightly, giant hands on my ass, fitting us like two pieces of the most urgent puzzle in the world.

His fingertips curl into my butt crack through my panties as he squeezes my ass cheeks, pressing and squeezing, which does something insane to my clit. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he grates.

“I’m gonna come right now,” I gasp.

“Not yet.” The room spins, and suddenly we’re moving.

He carries me around our little couch and on into the dim hush of my bedroom. He bangs the door shut behind us and continues on, throwing me down on the bed.

I pant like a trapped animal, excited, aroused beyond capacity.

His chest heaves under his white shirt, tie half loosened. The darkness in his eyes hits me like a drug. Without warning he’s on me. Rough fists grab the top of my shirt. He rips it down the middle.

I gasp. Cool air hits my belly.

He just keeps going, brutally ripping my shirt. His tie trails over my skin, a wicked feather to contrast with his violent movements. It’s the hottest thing ever.

He yanks down my bra cups and presses his warm, whiskery face to my bared chest.

I groan as he devours my breasts, all rough whiskers and urgent sucking. I grab on to his arms, hard like rock. I’m burning up.

Mindlessly he sucks. My swollen sex aches with need.

He pauses only long enough to yank off my skirt and obliterate what’s left of my poor panties. With clumsy movements, I take off my bra and toss it out of ripping range. Because, bra shopping.

“I like you like this, perfectly naked to me,” he growls. He kisses my bare belly, hands roaming everywhere. “Every inch of you is hot.”

Without warning, he slides his finger through my wetness.

I gasp and arch under his touch.

“Look at you, so naked and wet. Waiting for me.” He does me with his finger, eyes fixed on mine. “Waiting for me to take you.”

“More,” I rasp.

Instead he takes his finger from me and slides it lewdly into his mouth and sucks.

He sucks off every last bit of juice like it’s the last sustenance left on the planet, because that’s men for you.

Slowly he draws his finger back out, gazing down at me. “Mine.”

Warmth spreads through me like honey. Amazing Mr. Drummond.

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