Page 118 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife

38

Summer

His palm connects with my pussy, and I explode.

Moisture pools between my legs. The trembling sweeps up my calves, my thighs, zings up my spine and shatters behind my eyes. My hands shake, my legs give way. I lurch forward and come to a stop.

Wha—?

His hands grip my waist, the width of his palms span me end to end. The warmth from the connection sinks into my blood, rolls toward its inevitable destination—my melting center.

"Sinclair—"

"Sin."

"Eh?"

"Call me Sin."

"Goddam you." I bite down on my lower lip, "Why don’t you fuck me and be done with it?"

"Ask for it."

"No."

He palms my throbbing arse and sensations coil in my core. He drags the head of his cock between my melting lower lips and I moan. The thick length of him hints at how good it would be if I gave in to him. The emptiness inside of me claws, deepens. So hollow. So incomplete. I dig my fingers into the bedspread. No way am I giving him what he wants.

"So stubborn."

I sense him move. The heat of him envelops my back, sidles down the dip between my sensitized thighs. My throat closes.

"So responsive."

He nuzzles the skin at the point where my shoulder meets my neck, and my sex clenches. Goosebumps flare on my skin; my breath catches. He moves my hair aside, presses little kisses to the nape of my neck. I shiver. He sucks on the skin right there where I am the most sensitive and I moan.

He massages my hip, his blunt fingers long enough to graze the edge of my sensitive slit. The rough hair on his groin grazes my tingling backside and pinpricks of pain radiate out from his touch. A whine spills from my lips.

Is that me? Why do I sound so needy? Why is my body betraying everything that I am trying to communicate to him?

"So beautiful." He nibbles a path down the length of my spine and my heart begins to thud. Blood engorges my clit, my nipples pebble with such intensity that they hurt. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from asking him to take me, to put an end to this craziness, whatever it is that stretches, connects me to him. My mind to his. My heart to the essence of his being that is surely the darkest, blackest soul to ever exist. So why am I aching for him?

He drags his chin down the length of my spine and goosebumps flare on my skin.

"Ask me to fuck you."

I shake my head.

"Please."

I shudder. My heart clenches. Something inside of me snaps. Oh, hell, I am so going to regret this. I draw in a breath, "Fuck me, Sin."

His entire body seems to freeze. Tension radiates off of him. The heat from his body intensifies, until I am sure I am melting inside and out. Sweat beads my forehead, my nerve endings pop, crackle, waiting, waiting.

His breath teases the shell of my ear, "Thank you, Bird."

My throat closes.

I sense him draw back, his hands grip my hips, then he plows into me. I scream. Pain slices through me and I try to pull away.