Page 370 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Gio

Oh my god, did I blurt that out? Fire streaks my cheeks. I try to pull away again, but of course, he doesn’t let me go. "You got what you wanted; can you release me please?" I manage to croak out the words through a throat that feels like I’ve been screaming.

"You don’t have to be embarrassed about what happened. It was on that asshole that he didn’t realize the value of what he had."

"And you do?" I shake my head. "Ignore what I said. My emotions are all over the place. This is why I don’t like to talk about what happened. I wish you hadn’t forced me to share it, now I feel like a complete idiot."

"He’s the wanking toss-arse who didn’t deserve you in the first place."

I choke out a laugh. "You’re creative with your insults."

"As are you."

"One of my redeeming features," I murmur.

"I can think of a few more."

"Oh?" I still. "Like what?"

"You looking for compliments?" he asks in a light voice.

"Of course not." I wriggle in his hold, then freeze when my butt brushes up against the very thick, hard column in his pants. "Umm—is that—?" I swallow. "Did I just—"

"Rub up against the evidence of how aroused I am? Yes, you did."

I twitch my backside and, once more, connect with that very sizable bulge.

This time he groans. "What are you trying to do, Goldie?" His voice is slightly breathless, and that makes me feel good. He should hurt for how he makes me want to slap his ridiculously handsome face, then jump him, before throwing myself down and demanding he fuck me every time I see him. It’s only right he feels some of the—whatever it is that’s been growing between us since we met.

I squirm in his hold, and this time, the hockey stick in his pants stabs into the valley between my butt-cheeks.

I freeze. "Oh."

"Indeed," he says in a droll voice. One that’s bereft of any emotion. Which tells me how much he’s feeling. Which is a lot. Funny how I can already read between the lines of his grunts and one-word replies.

"I think you should let me go," I manage to say around the ball of sensation in my throat.

"I think I should throw you over my shoulder, march you over to the bed, toss you down, and tear up your pussy until you stop sassing me."

"Excuse me?" I squeak.

"You heard me."

Oh god, oh god, oh god. If he does it, I’m not going to protest. Nope.

I’m going to lay back and take everything he gives me.

I’m going to climb him like he’s a California coconut palm and suck face with him.

I’m also going to squeeze other parts of him.

And let him squeeze me, too. Aargh, the fire in my cheeks intensifies until it feels like an inferno.

"Only, I’m not going to follow through with my thoughts, sadly."

Before I can open my mouth to ask him why not and disgrace myself further, he releases me. I stumble forward, then turn and stare at him. "D-d-d-did you just say what I think you did?"

"Which part are you talking about?"

"Uh, all of it."

"And if I did?"

"I’d say you’ve got a hope in hell for that happening." I spin around and prance out of the door, then stumble over the carpet in the bedroom because goddamn, but I’m better at walking with heels. And that’s a fact.

I manage to hold onto the remaining shreds of my dignity as I head past the bed and into the closet. I snatch up my nightdress. It’s a silk kimono, and damn, if I’m going to wear anything else. If he has a problem with it, he can jump out the window.

I hear his footsteps behind me and race into the bathroom and slam the door shut, because I’m a coward. Because if I look at that gorgeous body of his, I won’t be able to keep my hands off him.

I drop my clothes onto the small table in the corner of the bathroom, then step into the shower.

I switch on the water and step under it.

The steam envelops me, sinking into my blood.

My already sensitized skin prickles in reaction.

I press my forehead into the tiles and close my eyes, then slide my fingers down between my legs.

It’s okay. He can’t hear me—not over the sound of the shower. I know he's hurting, but so am I.

I can still feel the strength of his body around me, the hard edges of his pecs as they dug into my back, and the blunt heaviness of the equipment he carries between his massive thighs.

My pussy clenches, and my nipples tighten into points of acute hardness.

I trace the outline of my throbbing clit and a moan wells up my throat.

I’m so damn close. I stick my fingers into my squelching pussy and begin to fuck myself.

In-out-in again and again, but it’s not enough.

I thrust a third finger and a fourth, stretching myself around the girth, already knowing it’s nowhere near the thickness I crave.

I bring my other hand to my breast and pinch my nipple.

Instantly, my pussy squeezes down. My breath catches, my skin tingles and I part my legs further, trying to give myself better access, when the hair on the back of my neck rises.

I freeze, then turn and glance over my shoulder to find he’s watching me through the glass wall of the shower cubicle.

My gaze catches with his, holds. Those cerulean eyes of his turn almost indigo. I gulp.

The steam rises between us, adding to the dream-like feel of the moment.

I cling to the strength in his piercing gaze and begin to move my fingers in and out of my channel.

His nostrils flare, and I know he knows what I’m doing.

He also knows he caught me as I was masturbating to thoughts of him.

And there’s a certain safety in being behind the wall of the shower cubicle and surrounded by the water that rains over me.

It gives me the courage needed to increase the pace of my movements.

I work my fingers in, and my entire body shudders.

I bring my other hand down to pinch my swollen clit and cry out.

I continue to work myself and rub on the swollen bud.

The tension behind my pussy walls grows and builds and becomes bigger until it thuds through my veins, my arms and legs and just like that, it explodes.

My back curves, I arch up to tiptoe, unable to look away as I gasp, "Rick. " The orgasm pushes me over the edge.

My eyelids flutter down as I slump against the wall and slowly, slowly drift back to earth. When I manage to crack open my eyelids, the doorway is empty.