Page 18 of Christmas with the Billionaire
I can feel his pulse racing, his hips thrusting. If he doesn’t have women throwing themselves on him, how long has it been since a woman has last touched him? While I don’t like thinkingabout others, I like thinking I could be doing more to him than they ever could.
This man, this very controlled man, is melting against me, loving my touch. The noises mixing with our shared breath are more than enough proof of that.
He breaks the kiss with a gasp, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His panting breaths are hot against my wet skin, his big body trembling. “Ellie,” he rasps, his voice shaky.
The water streams over his shoulders, down the hard planes of his back. Delirious with the high this brings in. I lean in, my lips brushing his ear as my hand continues to stroke him, a little faster, a little tighter.
“It would feel so good,” I whisper, letting my arousal seep through, “to have you inside. I don’t even know if you could fit.”
His nostrils flare, his eyes pinching shut like he’s trying to imagine it for himself.
I could tease him a little by pressing the entire length against my stomach so we can both see how deep he’ll reach if he throws caution to the wind and just takes me.
A shiver wracks through me despite the air feeling thick with steam. One last jerk leaves his body before every muscle locks up.
A guttural moan is torn from him, one he stifles by pressing his open mouth against my shoulder. Liquid heat hits my stomach. My eyes fly wide, and I watch, mesmerized, as his release paints my skin in stark, pearlescent streaks against the water-beaded flush.
For a few heartbeats, I just watch it happen, my hand milking him through the powerful, shuddering pulses, watching his essence slide in thick rivulets down my body, only to be washed away by the relentless flow of the shower.
When the last tremor subsides and he sags against my body, his spent, I finally still my hands.
He’s breathing heavily, his chest heaving. He opens his eyes, and his gaze is intense as it searches mine. A wicked smile touches his lips.
“You,” he pants, his voice rough with both awe and satisfaction, “are not the same bashful, shy girl I remember.” He leans in, his nose skimming my cheek, his breath hot in my ear. “You’re so much better. Now I’m going to return the favor,” he vows. “Soon.”
Oh. I like the sound of soon.
I like it a lot.
11
Charles
She wants to clean the tub, feeling all embarrassed after rocking my fucking world. I only pull my jeans back onto my hips when she is pleased with herself.
A giggle leaves her as I throw my shirt over her top half. Hardly to my surprise, it swallows her whole.
“I brought my own—”
Opening the door, I check to make sure we haven’t garnered an entire audience. When I see the coast is clear, I’m turning back toward her to see she’s gathered the said outfit in her arms. “I like my shirt more.” Plucking her into my arms, I groan at how well she fits in my hold as I pick her up. While she’s gasping, I’m on the move. “The less on you now, the less I need to take off once we’re back in our room.”
Ellie’s eyes go wide in amazement. When I said soon, I meant as soon as possible.
Unlike what just went down, I want her somewhere she can flood my ears with her moans. A place I can take my sweet time tasting her, no,devouringher.
She blushes pretty, pressing her thighs together tightly while pressing a hand against the front of the shirt to keep her body hidden from any onlookers.
If anyone came across her while she’s like this, I’d make them close their eyes and forget the very memory. Only I’m the one who can see her like this.
Just thinking about someone moving around has me rushing up the stairs. Setting her down long enough to fish out our key, once we’re inside, nothing else matters.
The second the door to our room swings shut, the world outside ceases to exist. There is only the heavy, anticipatory silence, broken by our ragged breathing.
The air is thick with the scent of her, of us, a heady perfume that goes straight to my head, my blood, my cock.
She’s standing there, dwarfed in my shirt, a flicker of that same shyness in her eyes even though I’ve already had an eyeful of her. No matter how much I look, I’m still in awe.
“So fucking beautiful,” I breathe, the words torn from me. They’re inadequate, a pale shadow of what she is, but they’re all I have.
