Page 120 of Rejected By My Shifter Billionaire
“Not if you learn to control them.”
The device pulsed again, stronger this time, and my vision went white around the edges.
“I can’t,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Nicolo, please—”
“You can,” he said firmly. “Look at me.”
I forced my eyes to focus on his face, on the sharp line of his jaw beneath the mask, on the way his green eyes seemed to see straight through me.
“Breathe,” he commanded softly.
I tried, but the sensation was building toward something inevitable, something that would destroy any pretense of public decorum.
“I’m going to—” I started, but couldn’t finish the sentence.
“I know.” His mouth was at my ear now, his voice barely audible over the music. “Let it happen.”
I nearly tripped over my own feet. “H-Here?”
“Yes.”
It was just one word.
But it was enough.
Just one word, combined with the relentless vibration, was all it took to push me over the edge, and I came apart in his arms, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the cry that wanted to escape. My body shook with the force of it, pleasure crashing over me in waves while he held me steady and whispered things I couldn’t quite hear over the roaring in my ears.
When it was over, I slumped against him, boneless and spent.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his hand stroking my back. “That was perfect.”
I lifted my head to look around the ballroom, expecting to find everyone staring at us in shock and disgust.
Instead, I found that life had continued exactly as before. Couples danced, people chatted, the orchestra played on. No one seemed to have noticed anything unusual.
Except for the passion vines on the walls around us, which were now glowing so brightly they looked like they were on fire.
“Everyone can see the flowers,” I whispered dazedly.
“Everyone can see that we have incredible chemistry,” he corrected. “Which is exactly what a 98.7% compatibility rating should look like.”
I stared up at him, my mind struggling to process what had just happened. I’d had an orgasm in the middle of a crowded ballroom, and somehow no one had noticed except the magical plants.
The song ended, and couples around us began to separate and move toward the refreshment tables. Nicolo kept one armaround my waist, supporting me as my legs remembered how to function.
“How do you feel?”
I stared up at him, my mind struggling to process what had just happened. I’d had an orgasm in the middle of a crowded ballroom, and somehow the most terrifying part wasn’t the public nature of it.
It was the way it felt.
Like coming home.
Like belonging to someone.
Like everything I’d been fighting against for seven years was exactly what I’d been fighting for.
“I need some air,” I managed.
