Page 116 of The Billionaire's Christmas Bride

His eyebrows knit. He searches my face again. The raw intensity of his gaze sweeps through my mind, pushes away all other thoughts. He bridges the distance between us, then closes his mouth over mine.

34

Weston

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This sweetness. This feeling of absolute surrender from her that punches me in the gut. My heart begins to pound and the blood thuds at my temples. She parts her lips; I deepen the kiss, swipe my tongue inside her mouth, draw from her taste, suck on her lips... And she gives and gives. A hot sensation coils in my chest.

Without taking my mouth from hers, I bend my knees, grip her under her thighs and lift her up. She wraps her legs around my waist. Her soft core cradles my dick, her breasts thrust up and into my chest. I tilt my head, crush my lips to hers. Her scent fills my senses, her taste goes to my head. I stalk forward and into the bedroom. She winds her arms about my shoulders, tilts her chin up. The softness of her mouth, the heat of her pussy, her pebbled nipples that are imprinted into my skin—all of it sinks into my blood. A pressure builds behind my rib cage. I lower her to the bed, but she doesn’t let go.

I lean over her, supporting my weight on my elbows. I press her down into the mattress, thrust my tongue down her throat, drink from her, wanting more…more. I reach down, position my throbbing shaft at the entrance of her pussy.

She moans deep in her throat, digs her heels into my back. The condom. I tear my mouth from hers. "Protection," I mutter.

"I’m on birth control." She stares up, blue eyes darkened to an azure, stormy clouds in their depths. "Come inside me," she whispers, "I want you, Weston."

"Like this?"

"Only like this." She pushes her hips up, her melting core opening, giving, needing.

"Fuck." I kick my hips forward, and slide into her, all the way in.

Her body jerks and the breath leaves her in a rush. I hold her gaze and begin to move, thrusting harder with each shove, plunge, thrust, propelling forward again and again. She grips me with her thighs, buries her fingers in my hair and tugs. I look deeply into her eyes, into the horizon I’ve seen all this time, the one that had seemed so far away when it was always right here. In front of me. Under me. With me… Next to me. "Come with me," I push into her, impale her, bury myself so deeply that my balls slap against her thighs.

She opens her mouth in a wordless scream; her body shudders and moisture fills her channel and bathes my dick, as I come inside of her. I thrust a few more times, as her body trembles in the aftermath of the climax, then reach down, scoop up the liquid that spills from us. I hold it to her lips. She sucks on it, swallows.

"How do we taste?" I ask.

"Of sin and chocolate," her lips quirk, "of cruelty and togetherness; of lust and secrets." Her voice lowers, "A strength to do what it takes."

"Can you take what I am going to do to you?" I wonder aloud.

"What?" She frowns.

I pull out of her.

She lowers her legs. I lean back on my knees, then stand and step away, over to the side of the bed. "Get up," I jerk my chin at her.

Her forehead creases, but she sits up. Her shirt—my shirt—that she wears is pushed up about her waist and her pussy glistens with the evidence of our combined cum. The sleeve slips down one shoulder, baring the reddened skin of her chest. Skin I’d touched, sucked, marked, fondled…lips I’d worshipped, breasts I’d cupped, nipples I’d pinched. I step back, rake my gaze one last time over the concave of her stomach, the curve of her hips, the creamy expanse of her thighs, the delicate nip of her ankle, her toes, her hitched breath as she swings her legs over and straightens.

"You can go now," I tell her.

"Wait," she straightens her shirt, "what do you mean?"

"Leave," I jerk my chin toward the door.

"W...where?" she stutters, "What just happened."

Everything."Nothing," I growl.

She takes a step forward, "That… What took place between us... It was different. I was sure you felt something for me. I know that you want me."

"So?" I pull the waistband of my sweats up my waist. "I want many women… Doesn’t mean I have to keep them around."

"I am not one of them," she snarls.

"Oh?" I look her up and down, "Just because my dick loves you," I smirk, "because I see your face and my dick gets hard, I hear your voice and my dick gets hard, I know you’re in the next room and my dick gets hard… Doesn’t mean I feel the same."

"You’re not making any sense." She twists her fingers together. "I know you’re scared. You’ve never allowed yourself to open up to another—"