Page 101 of Most Eligible Billionaire

I was wrong.

The worst thing that can happen is the possibility that he might love Vonda.

I rip my hands from his grip and pull him closer. “This is hardly fair. You with all the clothes.” I reach down to his cock, grab the bulge, fitting my fingers around best as I can with his pants still on.

I know when I get it feeling right, because he growls. I pull, erasing everything he’s doing. I bite his ear, taking back control.

“Not. Fair,” I say.

“Fair is for judges.” He rises up over me and undoes his belt, looking at me naked under him. He yanks it clear out of the belt loops, all hot and crass.

The tender mood is gone.

“I plan to be totally unfair with you. I’m going to exploit every advantage. I'm going to keep you naked underneath me and fuck you until you’re screaming my name.”

“Uh,” I say.

He presses my hand to my sex. “Do yourself, baby. Get yourself ready.”

“I want you to.”

He gives me a stern look. Bossy, stern Henry hasn’t quite left his CEO self behind. I’m feeling better now. I slide my fingers between my legs. He unbuttons his shirt, gaze heavy on my skin. I get up a rhythm.

He strips off his shirt, revealing a muscled chest. He tosses the thing aside, then rips off the rest of his clothes, gaze never leaving my fingers. “You don’t know how hot you are.”

“Come here,” I say. I need him to cover me.

He’s fumbling in his bedside drawer. A thrill sparkles through me. I turn on my side and slide my palm up his thigh, a smooth, massive pillar below his cock, which juts out hard, thick and veiny and beautiful in the moody shadows of the room.

Henry’s cock is beautiful, just like him.

“Didn’t you have a job you were supposed to be doing?” he growls.

“I have a different job now.” I take hold and he groans. “A lateral move,” I add.

He groans again as I slide my hand around steely hardness. “…gonna kill me,” he mumbles.

I sit up and lick up the side. “There might be a graze of teeth involved.” I swirl my tongue around the glistening head, salty and smooth.

With a strangled cry he has me on my back. He’s tossing a condom wrapper. He’s rolling a condom onto himself with quick, efficient movements, gaze never leaving mine.

“Fuck me,” I say. My words sound breathless. My entire being feels like it’s in suspension, waiting for him, craving him.

“You sure?” he asks, sliding his head to my clit with the help of his thumb, which gets me reeling, almost setting me off.

“I’m sure.” I buck my hips, urging him on.

He presses me back down, pinning my hips to the bed as he glides himself around on me with perfectly tantalizing pressure.

He’s rubbing my clit harder and more mercilessly, zeroing in on the most wildly tickly parts of me.

I make a little begging sound. I’m moving under him, rhythmically, like he’s already fucking me.

I let out a breath as he pushes into my swollen sex, huge and thick.

“Holy shit,” he says, voice full of wonder.

My blood races. Everything is spinning out of control. Being joined with him is too much truth, suddenly. Truth hiding a painful lie.

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