Page 81 of Billionaire Grump
They can’t touch us here. Nothing can.
We’re in a realm that might as well be heaven itself.
It’s almost daunting, how good it all feels. How unreal and how lucky.
Slowly, Alexander pulls me against him and his hand slides under my hair. He gives the nape of my neck a squeeze, sending a current of electric warmth through my entire body, centering in the light pulse that’s already taking hold.
His voice is low and his eyes burn like blue embers. He leans close, his stubble scraping lightly against the shell of my ear. “Stop charming everyone, Jones, including my over-attentive brothers. It makes me want to fucking throttle them. It also makes me want to fill you up with my hot cum again so everyone—and especially you—knows you’re mine.”
I look up into his midnight blue eyes and I don’t care anymore, about what I should or shouldn’t be doing or worrying about. Alexander has a way of soothing everything. All normal considerations are no match for his power over my body, which comes alive whenever he touches me.
“Then do it,” I whisper.
His grip is hard and lust-heavy as he pushes me onto the bed. “Bend over. I want you on your knees.”
I crawl onto the bed and he’s already there, pushing my dress over my ass.
He goes still. “Are you telling me this whole fucking time, in this short little white dress that barely covers you, you weren’t wearing panties?”
“Cleo packed my bag for me. She seems to have forgotten that detail.”
Alexander unzips my dress, pulling it completely off. Then he pushes my head down to the soft duvet and shoves my knees wider. “Give me everything,” he commands, his voice low.
And I will. I want to. I feel different today than I ever have. Like I hold the key to the universe.
I arch for him, offering myself. I’ll give him whatever he wants.
Some buried feminine instinct loves that he’s pinning me down and taking control. I can’t stop him. And even though I don’t want to stop him, the thought gives me a quiet, primal thrill. Which is strange, when you think about it. The simple biology of it. The deep, voracious cravings of my body for him and his aggression and the liquid gush of his pleasure. I want it inside me. I want to inspire it and make it overflow.
I know I can. Very easily. Just by inviting him, and leaning in to how damn hot I am for him. He, too, is sort of rough and crazed with his lust. It’s a heady twist, to fully realize your own sensual power over someone so much bigger and stronger.
He licks me everywhere, eating me slowly at first. Opening me for his own pleasure.
“Fuck, you get me hot, baby girl,” he growls, and I can feel the heavy bulk of him, sliding against me as he mounts. “Are you trying to fuck with me, Jones? Strutting around in this dress like you’re doing it just to push me over the edge? I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”
The head of his huge cock is there, pushing into the tight, wet constriction of my body. He teases me with his heavy thickness, dipping inside, then retreating.
I arch back and he slides a little deeper and I moan because he feels too good. I want to come. I need it.
“Beg me for it, baby girl. You’re so fucking gorgeous. So wet for my big cock.”
I don’t care about anything except tempting him so much he loses control and gives me what I need. “Please,” I breathe. “I need you. Please give it to me.”
“That’s my good little girl.” He grips my hips and drives slow but so, so deep, until he’s all the way inside me. Thrusting, in, then out, then deeply in. He’s kissing and biting my skin as he fucks me hard.
The sweet, pain-edged ache begins to spread and build deep inside me.
He pulls out a little, but not all the way, pushing back in, stoking the fire. With each plunge, he retreats a little less, until the cyclical glide isn’t a withdrawal at all, but one rolling thrust that stays with me, never leaving the stroking contact of that deep, perfect trigger.
The pleasure compounds, riding a silky wave, coasting then breaking with a force that sends clenching stars through my body that I can feel in zapping surges all the way to my fingers and toes. My inner muscles draw lusciously around his massive, pulsing cock until he groans and lays his body heavily over mine, gripping me as his climax racks through him.
25
I watch her as she puts her dress on. Just the sight of it, covering her perfection and shielding her from me, has me pining for her nakedness and her complete submission.
I can’t decide what details of her I’m most obsessed with: the sassy attitude mixed with her angelic sweetness, her crazy talent or her ethereal, otherworldly beauty. One thing I do know is that the writhing little nymph side of her personality, the one that pleads and begs for my raging cock is the one that has me on my fucking knees.
But now, she’s all business. It’s Monday morning.