Page 11 of Marked By the Billionaire
Wilder climbs into bed beside me, the mattress bending to the massive weight of his frame. His gaze never leaves mine, and though I don’t know the first thing about seduction, I know what a man’s eyes look like when he’s gone to a primitive state.
This man is downright neanderthal.
My breath hitches as tension crackles like static between us. Every inch of me is taut with anticipation, wondering where this will lead.
Will he fuck me now? Will he touch me? Why do Iwanthim to touch me?
His hand slides down my spine, and I’m acutely aware of every nerve sparking to life under his touch as he pulls the sweater off my frame and exposes my bare skin.
My pulse pounds in my ears like a war drum.It’s happening. Is this really happening? How is this guy into me? He’s so hot, so big, so… everything.
He unbuttons his shirt and tugs my leggings to the ground, leaving me fully exposed to the cool air in the room. There’s no rush in his movements. Instead, he studies me like he’s memorizing the tremble in my breath, the indecision in my eyes, the chaos I’m barely holding together.
“You’re stunning,” he growls deep in his throat, and I’m sure now that I’m past the point of pretending I’m not consumed by whatever this is.
A crisp breeze flushes over my frame, tightening my nipples as his lips brush mine. It’s soft at first, then harder, deeper with more pressure. He growls into my mouth, and the last of the sanity I was holding onto shatters.
“Fuck,” he groans under his breath as he kisses my throat, my chest, my nipples, my stomach, the top of my pussy, the inside of my thighs. His mouth is warm and wet, and he touches me like he’s hungry for more. Like he can’t get enough. Like he wants to rush and go slow all at once.
I’ve never been more nervous in my life, but my body calls to his in a way that I’m no longer in control of.
Goosebumps raise over my skin as his big, rough, inked up hand hovers over my stomach. “Jesus, baby girl, you look so good.” There’s conviction in his voice. A rumbling that makes me believe the words he says.
No, don’t believe it!
He watches intently as his palm moves over my stomach and onto my thighs, sweeping up again, covering the same area with a heavier touch. The tips of his fingers graze the outer edges of my breast and the slightest growl rumbles in his throat.
Dear Lord, I’m not going to make it. I want his big, rough touch. I want him to split me in two. I want him to spread meso wide I bleed. I want him to mark me, to take me, to do all the things that I’ve read about in romance novels.
Minus the romance.
His huge hand moves up over my throat and onto my face, scrubbing against my cheeks before drifting down again. “You’re gonna have to follow directions now, little lamb. Can you do that for me?” His voice is husky and rough, like he’s struggling to keep himself balanced. Like any second, he might mount me and officially take my virginity.
I nod, barely able to catch a clear breath. “Whatever you say.”
“Good fuckin’ girl,” he groans. “Now touch yourself. Put that pretty, little hand on your soaking, pink pussy for me. I want to watch you rub. Here.” He lifts my hand up to his mouth and draws two fingers in, sucking and licking, his dark gaze never leaving mine.
I’m pretty sure I could come right here and now without an ounce of anything more. The deep tone in his voice and the way he demands are all I’ll ever need.
He pulls my fingers from his mouth and lands them against my seam. “You get started on your clit. I’m gonna see how tight you are.”
My breath hitches as he moves between my legs and slides his own finger through my creamy wetness.
“Oh fuck, little lamb… you’re a soaking baby. I’m gonna slide a finger inside. You tell me if you feel any pain, okay?” His tone is ragged and rough, but kind, as though he’s going to do whatever he needs to take care of me.
Why is the word daddy sitting on the tip of my tongue?This isn’t the time. This isn’t real. But there’s something about the way he offered to take control, the way he offered to take my pressure, to let me need him.
I push it back and I rub my finger over my swollen clit, and for the first time ever, I feel something. It’s warm and soft, though sensitive as hell. It’s like gliding over silk.
“That’s my girl,” Wilder groans. “You’re doing so fuckin’ good. Rub that spot right there. How does that feel?”
I nod and moan, bending my back up off the mattress as I circle the sensitive nub again and again. “So good.”
He growls low, and I feel the tip of his fingers edge into my crease. “Here I come, baby girl. I’m pressing inside. You feel me?”
I know his fingers are thick, but as they spread me open, I can’t help but wonder how anything any thicker would ever get inside of me. My walls press against his touch as he bends his fingers upward in a come-hither motion that scratches an itch I didn’t know I had. “Daddy, don’t stop!”
Daddy!Did I just say Daddy?I really shouldn’t have said Daddy!
