Page 148 of The Billionaire's Christmas Bride

"Jesus, Princess," I snarl, "you're fucking turning me on."

Her breasts rise and fall, she straightens, lifts her gaze to mine, holds the connection, then impales herself again. She groans and the blue of her irises fades, leaving behind large pupils so black, they seem to take up most of her irises. My throat closes and my heart begins to race. I stare into her eyes, kick my hips forward again. Her movements intensify; so do mine. A bead of sweat trickles down her throat, trails down the shadow between her breasts. My pulse thrums; the blood pumps in my veins. I grip the plate of pie, push into the melting core, again and again. My balls draw up, the pressure in my groin tightens, harder, further, my senses pop, my vision narrows. "Come," I growl.

And she throws her head back, arches her spine, and reveals the slim column of her throat; a shudder grips her body, her thighs clench, a low keening moan spills from her lips, and I can't stop myself. My balls draw up and I come, shooting my load inside the fucking pie. I straighten, slap the plate with the dessert onto the table.

Her legs seem to weaken. She sways, then raises the bottle of wine from between her legs. Her knuckles are white and her hand trembles. She blinks, then licks her lips. She tips up her chin; I crook my finger at her.

She hesitates.

I jerk my chin. She takes a step forward, and another. She closes the distance, pauses in front of me. Tips the bottle of wine to her lips and drinks from it. Her throat moves as she swallows; a drop of red trickles down her chin. I scoop it up, bring it to my mouth and suck on it.

Her gaze follows my actions; her lips part. She holds out the bottle of wine to me. Is she daring me? Does she think she can match me step for step? Does she? I snatch the bottle from her, raise it to my mouth and chug down a mouthful. The complex notes of wood and cherries, chocolate and honey.

I lower the bottle. "Perfect with pie," I declare.

"Isn't it?" Her lips quirk.

She reaches for the serving spade on the table.

"What are you doing?" I growl.

"What do you think?" She cuts off a slice, brings it to her mouth, "Should I eat it?"

The fuck? I glare at the piece of pie, then at her face.

"You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" She tilts her head.

Woman's enjoying it. The thought of her eating the evidence of my arousal? It's a fucking turn on... Hotter than anything I have experienced before.

"Will you?" I lower my chin.

"You daring me?" She raises the slice, "What would you do if I ate this?"

"What do you want me to do?" I counter.

"I want you to—" She glances at the pie, then at my face, "I want you to let me take the lead in bed."

44

Amelie

His forehead crinkles. He glares at my face, and the skin around his eyes tightens. He's considering it. He's actually thinking about it? A dominant man like him... Would he give in to this? Does he want me to eat this...proof of his desire? Does he think I won't? Am I going to do this? I hold his stare.Say the word; do it.A bead of sweat slides down my temple. His gaze darts to it, then back to my eyes.

"Do it," his voice is casual, his stance relaxed.Huh? Does he think I won't? Is he the only one who can get away with playing games?He’s so sure that I won't surprise him, he raises the bottle of wine, swigs from it, then licks his mouth. "Mmm," he smacks his lips together. "Wine and the honey of your cum," he says, "this has to be my favorite drink ever.

I raise the pie to my mouth.

His gaze intensifies.

Bite off a piece.

He freezes.

I chew on it, swallow, his chest rises and falls.

I bite off another piece, chew on it.