Page 29 of The Billionaire's Second Chance
“Don’t even think about it, Charlie,” she gasped, clinging to my shoulders so hard her nails dug into my skin. “Don’t tease me, not tonight.”
I chuckled, letting my forehead fall onto her collarbone, breathing in the scent of her skin, our sweat, the sweetness of her arousal. I kissed her, trailing my tongue over the warmth of her breast, the sound of her breathy inhale going straight to my cock. I didn’t want to tease her, either–I was too close already, my balls heavy, thighs tense, each heartbeat sending blood downwards until I could barely think. “Fuck,” I said, and pulled out, just for a second, barely long enough to hear her whimper before I took her by the hips, flipping her over on the bed.
Her groan was guttural, animal, as was the sight of her, face-down in the hotel linens, her perfect ass in the air and my fingers pressing bruises into her flesh. “I won’t tease you, sweetheart,” I said, burying my shaft in her warmth in one stroke. I snapped my hips, and she moaned–loud despite being muffled by the sheets. “You like that?” I asked, and did it again. Her fists clenched the sheets above her head in response, and I bent forward, collecting her wrists in one hand, holding her firmly. I was folded over her, my chest pressed tight to her back, caging her in, pinning her under me as I fucked into her, hearing her moans turn to whines as I kept up the relentless pace until my thighs shook. “You’re so tight, fuck,” I groaned, my face buried in her hair. It had come undone at some point, and smelled like shampoo, like flowers, pretty and feminine and soft. “You feel so good around my cock, sweetheart. I want to feel you come on it.”
“Oh,oh,” she whimpered as my hand slid from her hip down between her legs. She was swollen and warm and wet–sowet, my cock dragging against her slick walls like damp velvet–and I rolled my fingers over her tight bud to hear her gasp again. “Oh, fuck,yes, Charlie.”
I could feel her getting closer, her body tightening under and around me, her breathing getting shallow, and my own body reacting, desperate for release. I held myself back; I wanted–needed–to get her there first.
“Love it when you say my name, sweetheart,” I groaned. “You know what you want, you know who gives it to you, Sami–”
She cried out, growing impossibly tighter as she came, and the sound of my name on her lips was almost as sweet as the pleasure that surged through me as I followed her over.
CHAPTER15
Samantha
“I still don’t likeyou, by the way,” I said.
“Is that right?” Charlie turned to me. “Even with my mouth closed?”
“That’s right.”
He smiled, slow and satisfied. “Well, if that’s what you’re like when you don’t like me…” He rolled onto his side, propped up on one elbow, and I let my gaze wander across his skin, glistening in the warm light of the bedside lamp. Edie was a lucky woman, I thought vaguely. Even if James was only half as handsome underneath his staid suits, to havethiswaiting for you at home,every day? Well, it almost made dealing with Charlie on a regular basis sound tolerable.
The warm fog that had cocooned my brain in post-sex dreaminess began to dissipate. No. Charlie? In my home? Everyday? My orgasm–or rather,orgasms–must have gone to my head. What we were doing here had simply been an indulgence, like a too-big bowl of ice cream. You wouldn’t want itevery day.
But… “I wonder, Sam, should I be sweeter to you?” he asked, and I let my eyes linger on his bicep, the hollow at the base of his neck, before I met his eyes again, let myself forget about the future for a moment longer. “As for you,” he said, “I don’t think you could get much sweeter than that.” He licked his lips, and heat flared up and down my spine and onto my cheeks. Between my legs.
I reached for him, rolling onto my back and pulling him on top of me, craning my neck to press our lips together in a long, slow kiss.
“Mmm, Sami,” he groaned. “Fuck, if we keep doing this…” I could feel him against my thigh, mostly soft but growing harder. I was positive that was what he was talking about. Not our future, just his cock. “We should stop.” He made no move to get off of me, his lips seeking out mine again.
“We should,” I breathed between kisses. “We, ah–”
“So,sosweet,” he murmured, his hand slipping between our bodies, stroking himself to hardness, running his shaft against my silky wetness once, twice, before sinking inside, all at once, leaving me breathless, powerless to resist.
“Yes.”
* * *
We didn’t talk about what happened.
Again.
And we didn’t talk about it when he tossed me the room service menu with one brow lifted.
“They have a Caesar salad,” he said, standing next to the bed. He’d pulled his boxer briefs back over his hips, but other than that he was still naked. I narrowed my eyes at him as I flipped the menu open and he shrugged, smirking. “Among other things.”
“I’ll have the filet,” I said, snapping it shut again.
He hesitated for only a moment–just long enough for me to wonder if I’d misjudged his offer–before his hand landed on the phone on the bedside table, lifting it to his ear.
“Room service, please,” he said, glancing between me and the menu, which he flipped open with one finger. “Thank you. Yes, two filet mignons. And a bottle of the Bordeaux,” he said, looking at me. I nodded slightly. “The ‘85. Yes. Two glasses.”
We didn’t talk about it as we lay half-dressed in the rumpled sheets, eating perfectly medium-rare steaks delivered to the door of the suite, Charlie tossing me a pristine hotel robe for modesty, the muscles of his bare back flexing as he dug through the pocket of his discarded pants to retrieve his wallet and pulled out a fifty for a tip. My body felt loose and warm, and I finished my first glass of rich, dark Bordeaux more quickly than I would usually, desperate not to look too closely at what I’d done. Again.
Once was a youthful delusion.
