Page 40 of Just The Way You Aren’t (Last Billionaire Standing #1)

"Yes. But only because once I start touching you, I won't be able to stop," he says simply. "And I want to do this right."

“Seems like we’ve been doing ‘this’ pretty well so far,” I tease with a lift of my brows.

He chuckles, but his eyes smolder as he holds my gaze. He parks in his private garage, then leads me into the opulent residence. Inside, he wastes no time, walking me through the dimly lit space and upstairs to his bedroom. Once inside, he frames my face with his hands.

"You were magnificent tonight," he says softly. "Watching you up there on the stage, seeing how everyone responded to you... I was so proud of you."

I slowly shake my head. "We did it together."

"We did." He kisses me softly, then deeper, until I'm clutching his jacket for balance. "Now let me take care of you."

He seats me on the edge of his bed, then kneels in front of me. The sight of Damien Langley on his knees makes my breath catch.

"Let's get these off," he says, running his hands down my calves to my ankles. He unbuckles each shoe carefully, massaging my feet as he frees them. "Better?"

"Much better." I wiggle my toes against his thigh. "Although I'm actually getting used to the heels."

"I've noticed. Every man in that ballroom tonight took notice of you in those heels and this dress too. But I'm the lucky bastard who got to take you home." He stands, pulling me up with him. "Turn around, beautiful."

I do, and I feel his fingers at the zipper of my dress. He lowers it tortuously slowly, leaning down and pressing kisses to each bit of skin he exposes. By the time the dress pools at my feet, I'm trembling.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, turning me to face him again. The dress didn't allow for a bra, so I'm in black lace panties, the diamond and pearl necklace, and nothing else. "God, Willow, you take my breath away."

He traces the necklace with one finger. "These look perfect on you. I love how they glimmer against your skin."

I shiver as he strokes the sensitive hollow below my throat. "I should probably take them off before we...?"

"Hell, no. Keep the necklace on." He backs me toward the bed again. "Now, lie down for me."

I stretch out on his dark sheets, watching as he strips off his tux jacket and bow tie. There's something incredibly hot about watching Damien undress---the confident way he removes each layer, the intensity in his eyes as they stay locked on mine.

He unbuttons his shirt slowly, revealing his chest bit by bit. I've seen him naked before, but my mouth still goes dry at the sight of his broad shoulders and defined muscles. The man clearly puts those 6 AM gym sessions to good use.

"Like what you see?" he asks, catching me staring.

"God, yes." I don't even try to hide it. My body's already responding, nipples tightening, heat building between my legs.

As he works his belt free and steps out of his pants, I find my hand drifting to my breast, almost unconsciously touching myself as I watch him. The movement catches his attention immediately.

"That's incredibly distracting," he says, his voice dropping lower .

"Good." I circle my nipple with my thumb, feeling bolder as I see his reaction. His boxer briefs can't hide how hard he is, the fabric stretched tight.

He hooks his thumbs in the waistband and pushes them down, finally standing completely naked before me. My breath catches at the sight of his erection, thick and ready.

"Now get over here," I tell him, reaching out. "I'm tired of just looking."

"So demanding," he says with a grin, but he doesn't make me wait any longer. He joins me on the bed, his skin hot against mine as he settles beside me.

His mouth finds mine in a scorching kiss, tongue sliding against mine as his hands explore my skin. I arch into his touch, craving more.

"These need to go," he murmurs against my lips, fingers hooking into my panties.

He drags the lace down my legs torturously slowly, his touch leaving fire in its wake.

I groan in protest when he breaks our kiss and moves away from me.

His answering smile is pure male arrogance. "Don't worry, I'm not going far."

He spreads my thighs and settles between them, a wicked smirk on his lips. I prop myself up on my elbows to watch him. The sight of Damien, naked and magnificent, positioning himself between my legs sends a fresh surge of wetness to my core.

"I've been thinking about this all night," he says, his breath hot against my inner thigh. "Dying to taste you again."

The first swipe of his tongue makes me cry out.

He knows exactly what I like by now—the perfect pressure, the rhythm that drives me wild.

His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he works me with his mouth.

My nerve endings vibrate with sensation that’s swiftly becoming too much for me to take.

"Damien," I gasp, one hand tangling in his hair. "That feels so good."

He moans in response, the vibration adding to the pleasure. When he slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit exactly the right spot, my back arches off the bed.

"Oh, fuck. Right there," I pant. "Don't stop."

His fingers and tongue work in perfect synchrony until I'm trembling on the edge of a swift and building orgasm. Then he focuses entirely on my clit, sucking gently while his fingers continue their relentless rhythm. Even if I wanted to slow it down, I can't. His mouth feels too damn good.

I come with a sharp cry, my body clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash through me. He stays with me through it, easing me down until I'm boneless and gasping.

"Come here," I manage when I can speak again, tugging at his shoulders.

He moves up my body, kissing his way over my stomach, pausing to pay attention to my breasts before reaching my mouth. With a surge of confidence, I push against his chest. He raises an eyebrow but allows me to roll him onto his back.

"My turn," I tell him, moving down his body.

I take my time, trailing kisses over his chest, feeling his muscles jump beneath my lips. The necklace he gave me sways between my breasts as I move, occasionally brushing against his skin.

When I reach his cock, I wrap my hand around the thick base, feeling him throb against my palm. I look up to find him watching me, his eyes darkened with desire .

"I want to taste you too," I say before taking him into my mouth.

His sharp intake of breath is deeply satisfying. I work him with my hand and mouth together, alternating between long strokes and focused attention on the head. His hand finds my hair, not pushing, just holding on like he needs an anchor.

"Fuck, Willow," he groans. "Just like that."

I hum around him, taking him deeper, loving the way his hips jerk in response. I can tell when he's getting close—his breathing changes, his grip tightens in my hair, his muscles tense beneath my free hand.

Suddenly, he pulls me away, panting hard.

"Not yet," he says, his voice husky with desire.

“I have another idea.” He sits up against the headboard and guides me to straddle him, but facing away from him.

I sink down onto him, feeling his hard length stretching me like never before.

"Yeah, like this," he murmurs, positioning my back to his chest.

This is new—we've never done this position before. I feel suddenly vulnerable yet incredibly intimate as I move atop him, taking him deep inside me. His arm wraps around my waist, holding me securely against him while his other hand explores my body.

"Look at us," he whispers in my ear, and I realize we're facing the large mirror on his dresser. I can see us—me with the diamonds glittering at my throat, him behind me, his eyes watching me over my shoulder. The visual is startlingly erotic.

"I want to see your face when you come," he says, his eyes meeting mine in the reflection. "I want to watch what I do to you."

I reach back to touch his face, turning my head to kiss him over my shoulder as we begin to move together.

The angle is incredible, hitting spots that make me gasp.

But what's more intense is the connection.

We can't look away from each other, locked in the reflection as we move in perfect tempo with each other.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against my ear. "Not just your body, all of you, Willow..." His words trail off as his movements intensify, but his eyes never leave mine in the mirror.

The intimacy of it all—his words, our reflected gaze, the way our bodies move together—pushes me toward the edge again.

When his fingers find my clit, circling with perfect pressure, I shatter, crying out his name.

But this time, I watch it happen, see his expression of awe as he witnesses my pleasure, our eyes locked in the mirror.

The intensity of our shared gaze seems to affect him too.

His rhythm falters, and he instructs me to turn until we're face to face, my legs wrapped around his waist, our foreheads pressed together.

In this new position, we're impossibly close, breathing the same air, unable to look anywhere but into each other's eyes.

"I need to see you—really see you," he whispers, his thumb stroking my cheek. The vulnerability in his voice makes my heart ache.

We move together more slowly now, our bodies rocking in gentle waves. The physical pleasure is incredible, but it's the way he's looking at me that threatens to undo me completely. I've never felt so seen, so known by another person.

"Stay with me," he murmurs, his gaze never wavering from mine. "Right here, with me."

I know he means more than just this moment, and the realization sends a fresh wave of emotion through me. "I'm here," I promise, my voice breaking slightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

His movements become more urgent, and I can feel myself building toward another peak. This time when I fall, he follows immediately, our bodies pulsing together as we maintain that unbroken eye contact, sharing something far deeper than physical release.

We collapse against each other, breathing hard but still holding on tight. He pulls me against him, my head resting atop his shoulder.

"That was..." I trail off, unable to find adequate words. I swallow past the knot of emotion suddenly lodged in my throat. "This whole evening has been like a fairy tale, Damien. The fundraiser, the dancing, this... You've made me feel like Cinderella at the ball."

"You deserve it," he says, his hand sliding down my body. "But it's not midnight yet. And I'm nowhere near done with you, princess."

His fingers find me again, already building me toward another climax. Maybe fairy tales are real after all. One thing's for sure. Prince Charming's got nothing on Damien Langley.