Page 71 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

“Um…trying to?”

His eyes darken. “That’s not how this works.”

I say, “You are so bossy…”

“I think you like it,” he rumbles.

He’s right. His scowly, bossy face makes me want to lie down and bare my belly, not to mention my pussy and everything else that the law likes covered.

“Now get those fucking legs spread apart,” he says.

His words hit me like a drug, and I do as he says. He’s such an unbelievably gruff jerk, and now, after months of pining after him, months of fantasies, I’m going with the full barrel roll. It’s everything I promised myself I’d never do.

Which maybe makes it more delicious.

“Captain Sternpants?” he growls, sliding my suit top sideways off my breast, kissing the side of it, marking it with his whiskers, a white-hot swipe of yummy Rex harshness, before tonguing my nipple with wicked abandon.

And suddenly his hand is between my legs. “You are such a little tease,” he rasps, helping himself to my pussy, the most willing and eager dance partner he will ever encounter. He finds my aching clit. He begins some kind of sexy finger sorcery there.

I sag in his arms, managing by some miracle to keep my groan of pleasure at a conversational level.

I can’t think. My clit apparently contains my entire mind, and he’s doing things that make it hum.

A knock at the door jolts me out of my lust haze, makes Rex’s hand still. A female voice I don’t recognize. “Gail sent me down to let you know it’s starting.”

“We’re getting ready,” Rex grunts.

The footsteps clunk away.

“Itwasstarting,” I say.

He grips my wrists harder in his hand. “Come back,” he whispers, watching my eyes, touching me. “Come back to me.”

“But…Gail. C-croquet,” I whisper.

“Yes, and whose fault is that?” he rumbles. “Whose fault is it that we’re going to play that ridiculous game?”

I wheeze out a breath that maybe sounds likehuhhhh.

“Say it,” he growls, doing my sex in a new and awesome way. “Whose fault?”

I’m panting. “More, please.”

“Whose?”

“Mine,” I gust out. “My fault.”

Finally, he gives me what I want, and it’s like my pussy spent the past five centuries in a cage under the Italian Alps, deprived of touch. And now his finger is there, a full, brilliant 3-D experience. It’s so much—too much. An orgasm explodes over me.

“Ride it,” he says as he slows his finger, letting me move on him. “All the way,” he rasps into my ear as I come.

And come.

And come.

When I flutter my eyes open and meet his gaze, I know he’s been watching me. And it feels amazing in a way I can’t describe, just that he was watching.

“God, you’re the most maddening fucking…” he grates, and suddenly he’s kissing me. And I have my hands back and I’m grabbing the shit out of his shirt, pulling him to me.

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