Page 98 of Billionaire Romance

Little did I know what he really meant by that.

I push the memories from my mind. Don’t think about him. Not now. He doesn’t deserve it. This moment, Ankor kneeling in front of me, his dark eyes full of heat where they gaze into mine? This moment is all mine.

Without warning, Ankor reaches over and grabs my towel, spreading it on the single bench in the middle of the changing room. Then he grabs my hips and spins me around, pressing me back until I’m lying along the bench, my ass right at the end of it. He kneels between my thighs and drags me along the bench until my pussy is right in front of his face, spread open, bared to him.

“I’m going to make you scream so hard you’ll forget your own name,” he promises, and my pulse doubles, throbbing in my throat, my belly.

He leans in and trails his tongue along my pussy lips, not even between them yet. I groan under my breath. He smiles.

“You taste every bit as delicious as I expected,” he murmurs against my nether lips. With two fingers, he reaches up to gently part them, his other hand beneath me, still cupping my ass, using it for purchase as he draws my hips up toward his face.

This time, he presses his tongue between the folds of my pussy and drags the tip of his tongue along my slit. He moves slow, back to front, taking his time, and I moan a little at the unfamiliar, amazing sensation of his hot, wet tongue against my entrance.

He strokes back and forth in slow, steady motions, moving a little faster with each stroke, until suddenly, without warning, he plunges his tongue into my pussy.

I gasp and my hips buck up against his face. He holds me flat against the bench with one hand on my belly, and presses his mouth up against me, pushing his tongue as deep into me as it will go. When he pulls it out, he curls the tip up and forward, and I moan as he brushes one particularly sensitive spot along my front inner wall.

I start to rock in time with his movements, as he pushes his tongue in and out of me, building up a rhythm. I reach down, hesitant at first. But his eagerness, his boldness, makes me bold too. I bury my fists in his hair. “Right there,” I moan as his tongue presses against the sensitive spot again. “Oh, fuck, yes,” I gasp as he returns to it, over and over.

The pressure in my clit feels overwhelming, like it’s drowning out the rest of the world.

He pulls back a little, and I cry out faintly in protest, but he only flattens his tongue and drags it up over my clit instead. Now I really do cry out, loudly, my voice echoing around the tiled changing room. I don’t care. I’m too far gone to wonder if it’s audible from outside on the pool deck, or even to wonder if anyone might overhear us.

He licks me harder, faster, and I start to thrust up against his face, both fists tight in his hair. “Yes, Ankor, right there, yes…”

I don’t feel his hand move between my legs until he pushes a finger deep into my pussy. When he does, I moan in pleasure. He starts to move his finger and tongue together as one, the pressure in me building to an almost insurmountable point. He adds a second finger, and I can’t take it anymore.

I cry aloud as the orgasm sweeps over me, making my toes curl and my whole body shake from the force of it. I can feel my pussy contracting around his fingers in pulses as the climax hits. He leans back a little, chuckling, his dark eyes still hungry where they fix on mine.

“You’re a screamer. Good. I like that.” He pulls his fingers out of me, and I moan a little in protest. He smirks and straightens, reaching down to his trunks.

Oh god.

He lets the trunks fall, and his cock springs free, fatter and thicker than I could have imagined. My eyes go wide.

“I want to fuck you, Sinclair,” he says, stepping closer. “I want to feel that tight, sexy pussy of yours wrapped around my cock.” I sit upright as he approaches and reach out before I can think better of it.

I hesitate, my hands inches from his cock. He reaches down to take my wrists and guides my hands to the base of his shaft, circling them so I’m gripping his cock in both hands. Even so, it takes both of my hands to encircle him, he’s so thick. Will he fit? I feel a nervous flutter of fear.

“But I won’t claim you unless you’re ready for it.” His dark eyes study mine. “If you aren’t, I’ll walk away. Right now.”

My mouth goes dry at the thought. Even after the orgasm, I’m still so keyed-up, my body practically vibrating with desire. Don’t leave me like this, I want to cry out in protest. But I swallow down the words, afraid they sound too honest, too desperate. “I’m ready,” I say instead, locking eyes with him. “I want this.”

His smile widens, slow and lazy. “You’re tight,” he says. “It might hurt.”

“I know.” I set my jaw. My hands are still around his cock, and I trace them up and down the length of his shaft, marveling at the velvety softness of him, and the contrast between that and how steel-hard his shaft feels beneath the soft skin. “But a little pain can be nice.”

He laughs softly. “Well. I’ll do my best to avoid any pain, this time, but….” He reaches down then, to catch my wrists, and raises them over my head. He transfers them into one hand, so he’s pinning my arms above my head with just one hand and reaches down with his other to pull my hips a little farther up the bench.

When he leans down over me this time, eyes fixed on mine, I arch my back and feel the press of his hard muscles all the way down my body, his abs against my belly, his pecs digging into my bare, still hardened nipples.

“God you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his face inches from mine. “Where the hell did you come from?”

I laugh softly, though underneath it I feel a skip of fear. If he guesses; if he asks too many questions about my past… But he seems to pick up on the nervous flutter in my veins, because he turns away without pressing me, without waiting for an answer to that question.

He parts my thighs, and I feel his cock graze my inner thigh. He pauses to reach for a nearby locker and digs out a wallet with a condom inside.

I watch him unroll it over himself, shivering at the sight. He looks huge. As if sensing my nervousness, he smiles again, and slides one hand down to part my pussy lips. “You’re nice and wet already,” he murmurs, his fingers probing for my entrance. One finger slips into me slowly, before a second joins. My eyes flutter half-shut at the sensation. “Just relax, Sinclair, and let me show you.”

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