Page 122 of The Billionaire's Bride

"Shh," he kisses me, "I’ll be right back.

I vaguely hear the water run in the bathroom, then footsteps sound and the cool wetness of a washcloth presses into my pussy, then between my arse cheeks. I flush, open my eyes to find him wiping his dick, before he tosses the cloth aside.

"You forgot to clean the parts of me where I am wearing your cum."

"Good." He laughs, "Now you can't forget who you belong to." He climbs into bed, pulls me to him and I pass out again.

When I come to, I am resting on his chest. His arms are around me; the thud-thud-thud of his heartbeat is a comforting sound against my cheek. I peer up at him from under my eyelashes to find him gazing at me. His blue eyes burn in the dark, the look in them, contemplative.

"What," I clear my throat, "what are you thinking?"

"Why are you so good to me," he murmurs, "when all I have done is hurt you?"

"You saved me," I whisper. "You showed me, it’s possible for me to be anything I want. The only limitations are those I set on myself."

"I did?" He frowns. "How’s that?"

"By being you." I rest my chin on his chest, "When I think of everything you’ve been through, and yet, you never lost hope. You continued to believe."

He chuckles, "You sure you’re talking about me?"

I nod, "You watched over me, protected me, loved me…"

He frowns, opening his mouth, and I place a finger across his lips, "Shh, I know you do. It’s only a technicality that you haven’t said it yet."

"A technicality?" He blinks.

"I mean, you do love me. Why else would you ask me to marry you, and then break your condition—which was stupid anyway and destined for failure—of not sleeping with me until the wedding?"

"Stupid?" His lips curve and his eyes gleam.

Before I can react, he flips me over so I am on my back, and he’s bracketed me in between his arms. "I’ll show you exactly how stupid it was."

He pushes forward and impales me. I am still so wet that he slides inside to the hilt. My pussy spasms around his dick. His thick, fat shaft pulses and a groan spills from my lips.

His chest rises and falls, his shoulder muscles tense, and his biceps bulge as sweat beads his forehead. "How is it that every time I am inside you, it’s like the very first time?" He growls, "Why is it that I can’t get enough of you? What is it about you that pulls me back to you again and again? That I want to stay buried inside you... If I were to die like this, I’d be the happiest man ever."

He hooks his arms under my knees, pushing them up, until my thighs are pushed in next to my chest. He lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me deeply as he begins to move. Slowly, so I can feel every ridge of his cock, he buries himself inside me and pulls out, again and again. I wrap my fingers around the headboard, as he tunnels into me.

"I am going to fuck you so hard, you won’t know where you begin and where I end. I am going to come inside you again and again until your every pore leaks with my cum. You feel me, Eve?"

"Yes," I pant against his mouth, "yes, Baron."

He pulls out, then slams into me, hitting that spot deep inside, and I cry out. He propels his hips forward again and again, hitting that very same spot, and my entire body bucks. He doesn’t stop until my orgasm screams up my spine, when he growls, "Look at me, Eve."

I stare into his blue eyes and the connection is so hot, so real, so everything that I shatter. He holds my gaze, as he empties himself inside me with a hoarse cry. Sweat clings to his beautiful shoulders as he slumps over me. His weight pushes me into the bed, holding me down, pinning me in place... And I know, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

The next time I open my eyes, he’s gone.

"Baron?" I call, and my voice echoes in the empty space. I slide out of bed, find a shirt he must have folded and put aside earlier. There are so many facets to this guy, I don’t think I’ll ever really get to know him completely. It’s what draws me to him, knowing I can never really predict what he’s going to do next.

I pad out into the hallway, peek into the living room, then the kitchen, finally, walking down to the partially-closed door at the end of the corridor. I push it open to find him standing at the window, wearing only his sweats. His broad shoulders block out the view of the early morning sky. I walk over to him. His shoulder blades bunch and I know he’s aware of my presence. I slide my arms around his waist, rub my cheek against his back.

"I missed you," I whisper. "What are you doing here?

"Waiting for you."

"Were you?"