Page 383 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Rick

I release my hold on her throat, and she throws back her head, sucking in air. Her mouth opens in a soundless cry. When her eyelids begin to flutter down, I snap, "Look at me.”

She cracks her eyelids open as her body bucks, and she shatters.

She’s so fucking beautiful, a beacon that entices me to follow her over the edge.

My balls draw up, and I grit my teeth to stop myself from coming.

Instead, I hold her gaze and revel in the rapture of her orgasm.

See the lust, the need, that absolute ecstasy that overtakes her, and that relief as she slumps against me.

I cradle the back of her head and hold her against my chest. With my other hand I rub slow circles over her back.

When she stills, I notch my knuckles under her chin and tip up her head.

I press a firm kiss to her mouth. Her sweetness, her essence, her scent…

All of it goes straight to my head, and my cock twitches again.

I lick her lower lip, my favorite curve of her body, then whisper, "I’ll be right back."

When I step back, she winces.

"Did I hurt you?"

She nods.

"That’s good."

"Wha—?" She gapes.

I chuckle. "This way, you won’t forget the first time we almost fucked." Then, because I can’t stop myself, I kiss her again.

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t fuck me for real?”

“Just heightening the anticipation, baby.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re a sadist.” She tips up her chin.

“I did let you come,” I point out. “But if that’s what turns you on, I could ensure you don’t the next time and prolong the expectation even more…”

“There’s not going to be a next time.” She scowls.

My lips twitch.

She sees the confidence on my face, and her scowl deepens. When she opens her mouth, I silence her with mine and she instantly melts into me. I deepen the kiss, find myself leaning into her, and groan. "I’ll never get enough of you."

She scoffs, "You’re a piece of work, Stone."

I pull back, then slap her pussy lightly.

"Ow," she gasps. "What was that for?"

"My name. Is. Rick. You feel me, Goldie?"

She nods.

I hold her gaze a bit longer. Then, satisfied by her response, I nod. I grab her clothes from the floor. Then I scoop her up in my arms.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Gonna get you cleaned up."

I carry her over to the ensuite, then lower her to the counter near the sink. I wet a towel and press it between her legs. She winces.

"I did hurt you." I frown.

"Nothing I can’t handle. I’m tougher than I look, Sto—I mean, Rick."

"As far as I’m concerned, you’re fragile and need to be taken care of."

She chuckles. "Who, me?"

I toss the towel into the basket near the sink, then help her slide into her bra. I reach around to hook it up, but she protests, "I can do it."

"So can I."

"Had much experiences with women’s lingerie?"

I raise a shoulder.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"That it’s common sense how to work the fastenings of a bra. Also—" I grunt as I stretch the band, then stretch it further, and finally manage to clasp the hooks. "Okay, maybe not that simple, but I succeeded."

"You did." She adjusts her tits in the bra-cups. Her movements are practiced. No doubt, she does that every time she wears her bra, but fuck, if it doesn’t jiggle her breasts.

My still hard balls threaten to blow. I managed to stop myself from coming, even as I encouraged her to climax, but this casual way she handles herself is more intimate, more arousing, more. ..everything.

A warmth steals over my skin. I help her down from the counter, then pull out a pair of panties from my pocket and sink down on one knee and hold it out for her.

“W-h-a-t? You were carrying an extra pair?”

I curl my lips.

“So you planned to tear off my panties?” She frowns.

“Didn’t plan on it. But also knew I wasn’t going to stop myself if I wanted to do it.

I knew I wasn’t going to let you out of my sight without panties.

Not when the scent of your cunt would be too freely available for anyone else to smell.

And only I get to enjoy the smell of your freshly-fucked pussy. "

Her eyes flash. A combination of anger and desire, which turns me on even more.

“I can’t decide if I should be angry at your presumptuousness, or moved by your thoughtfulness or—”

“—as long as my words heighten the moisture between your thighs, I’m good.”

She rolls her eyes. “I can’t even with you. Also, I can dress myself.”

"Humor me." I tilt my head, and she finally relents. She steps into her panties, gripping the top of my head for support. When she tugs on my hair, my cock instantly responds—not that it’s a surprise. Where she’s concerned, I’m in a state of permanent arousal.

I slide the panties up her legs, and because I can’t stop myself, I press a kiss to her pussy lips—which makes her gasp—before I smooth the fabric over her hips.

Then I hold her hips and press another kiss to her belly button.

She moans and grips my hair tighter. "What are you doing?"

"Taking care of what’s mine." I glance up to find she’s looking at me with a mixture of lust and need, and it’s never felt more right to kneel in front of a woman like this.

"I’m not yours," she reminds me.

"You’re my fiancée."

"Your fake fiancée."

"Real, as far as the world and my grandmother are concerned." Just then, the phone in my back pocket vibrates.

"Are you going to get that?" she murmurs.

"Only if I continue to inhale your pussy scent while I talk to whoever is on the other side." I pull out my phone, glance at the screen, and stiffen. Oh hell.

"Are you okay? Who is it?"

"My grandmother." I sigh before bringing the phone to my ear to answer it, "Hey, Grams."

"There you are, darling boy. You’re all over the internet with that beautiful fiancée of yours."

Of course, she noticed. Grams is tech savvy.

She might be eighty-two, but she’s very connected with world events.

She scans the news every day on her tablet, and until a month ago, invested in the stock-market using an online app.

She’s also physically active. She goes for daily walks and takes part in social activities with her book club.

Which is why it came as a surprise when she was diagnosed as having blocked arteries in her heart a month ago.

Dr. Kincaid said it was age-related. He advised her to cut back on stress, which is when she handed over her investment management to a consultant.

The doc had been clear: it was best to have surgery and have stents fitted into her heart to prevent the possibility of a heart attack.

Grams refused to get the procedure done until I settled down.

"Is she there with you?" she asks.

"Yep, she’s here." Very much here.

I press my cheek into the soft skin of her belly. She melts into me then squeaks, "You’re talking to your grandmother."

She tries to pull away, but I hold her in place. "I was going to tell you about her, Grams, but things got a little out of control, and we had to give an interview this morning—"

"—no matter. When are you bringing her over?"

"Soon." I turn my nose into her belly and bite down on the skin lightly.

She trembles, then grabs the hair at the back of my head and tugs on it. "Stop it," she admonishes in a low voice.

"Is that your fiancée? Her name’s Giorgina, right? Can I talk to her?"

I blink, then slowly straighten and hand the phone over to her. "Grams wants to talk to you."

"What?" Goldie’s eyes grow so big, they seem to fill her face. "What do you mean, she wants to talk to me?"

I raise a shoulder, then wave the phone under her nose.

"Giorgina, is that you?" My grams’ voice can be heard through the receiver.

Goldie glowers at me then takes the phone and holds it to her ear. "Hello, Grams. This is Giorgina."