Page 410 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Gio

"No." I shake my head. "Don’t do this." I don't realize I’ve uttered them aloud until I hear them reach across the space between us, an involuntary response to what I’m seeing in his eyes. Something I sensed was coming, given the intensity with which he took me. It felt like it was the last time we’d be that intimate. I attributed it to the intensity of the emotions I’ve been feeling, but seeing the bleakness in his eyes?

I know, now, I didn’t imagine it. My heart pistons against my ribcage, and my pulse-points go into overdrive.

This sense of foreboding. Where is it coming from? I haven't done anything wrong, have I?

"You always mean what you say," I whisper.

He nods.

"So, I’m not sure I want to hear your words."

He turns his palms face-up and stares at them. "I think you need to."

"No, I don’t." I sit up in bed and pull the covers up under my chin.

"If you don’t, you’ll hate me."

"Will I hate you less if you don’t tell me?"

He winces, then shakes his head. "It’s best you hear it from me now."

"I don’t want to."

"You have to."

"No, Rick. No. I don’t. I just found you; I don’t want to lose you."

"You’ll never lose me." He swallows. But the fact he looks so uncertain for the first time since I’ve met him, the fact that this big, grumphole of a man looks like his world is collapsing around him, sends a jolt of panic through my insides.

I throw off the covers, and when I rise to my feet, he sweeps his gaze down to my breasts, then to the flesh between my legs.

His chest rises and falls, and when I look at his crotch, I spot the tent in the grey sweatpants he’s wearing.

What is it with him and grey sweatpants?

No one should look this hot wearing a pair of faded sweats and an even more faded black T-shirt that clings to every angle of his musculature.

"You’re trying to distract me," he growls.

"No, I’m not." I spread my legs, then slide my hand between them. "Now, I am."

A noise rumbles up his throat—something between a chuckle and an admonishment, and it’s so freakin’ hot. A feeling of power surges through me. I raise my other palm to my breast and play with my nipple.

Spots of color paint his cheeks. He curls his fingers into fists at his sides, and the fact that he’s stopping himself from doing whatever he has in mind sets off alarm bells in my head, and my need to distract him multiplies. "Don’t you want to touch me, baby?" I croon.

His nostrils flare. His throat bobs. His gaze is fixed on my pussy—my very wet, throbbing, pussy. I take a step forward, and new aches and pains make themselves known. I wince, and he jerks his chin up.

"You sore?" he asks with interest.

I firm my lips. Of course, I’m sore. You put that monster cock of yours in a hole that’s roughly one-millionth of its size, or at least, it felt like that, is what I want to say, but I don’t. It’ll only serve to increase the ego of this man, and he can do without that.

"You’re sore," he concludes with a satisfied quirk of his lips. That half smirk of his draws a fluttered response from between my legs. I move toward him, and when I reach him, he leans back to put distance between us. "I know what you’re doing," he says in a low voice.

"Oh?"

"You’re trying to distract me."

"Is it working?"

"You don’t need to try to get my attention; you always have it."

I swallow.

"You walk into a room, and I know where you are. You’re in the stands, and I know exactly where to find you. You could be in the other side of the world, and I swear, I could sense you. There’s this invisible connection between us that's so real, it feels like a third person."

Tears prick the backs of my eyes. It’s so close to the thoughts I’ve had about this pull that binds us that I swear he’s read my mind.

"Rick..." I’m not sure what to say. And again, he deciphers my unsaid words, for he pulls me into his lap.

I straddle him, then wrap my arms about his shoulders and push my nose into the base of his neck where his scent is the strongest. I breathe in pure Rick, and a calmness descends.

"Whatever you were going to say, it doesn’t matter. "

"It does." He pinches my chin, so I have to tilt up and meet his gaze. "I asked you to share my room because—"

"Rick, we’re gonna be late. You said you’d ride with us today. Coach is ready," Finn’s voice reaches us through the closed door.

He groans. "I did promise them I’d be riding with them from now on."

"That’s good for team spirit," I agree.

"Maybe it’s a mistake. You’re more important. Maybe I should tell them I’m taking the car today with you and—"

I silence him by pressing my lips to his.

He instantly thrusts his tongue into my mouth and takes control.

He sucks on my tongue and draws from me, enveloping me in his big arms, and I’m hot and aroused, and moisture slides out from between my legs.

The man has some kind of radar where I’m concerned, for he reaches between us and hooks two fingers inside.

I mewl into his mouth, and that turns him on, for the column under my butt grows thicker.

"You’re fucking soaking, and I’m not leaving you needy. "

"What are you—" I draw in a sharp breath when he urges me up long enough to pull down his sweats. Then, he positions me over his already erect cock, thrusts up his hips and breaches me. I cry out, then hold onto him as he begins to pound up and into me, over and over and over again. Each time he enters me, he hits my G-spot. How is that freakin’ possible? The man’s a sex god, and his dick has a homing device when it comes to that invisible, innermost, most sensitive part of me.

He holds me steady with one hand on my hip.

The other, he wraps around the nape of my neck.

His fingers are so thick and so long, they meet in the front of my throat.

And when he punches up and into me again, I feel completely possessed. Owned.

He’s my dominant and I’m the submissive who’ll give him anything he wants. I’ve already given him my heart and my trust, and now he takes the only thing left, my will. I’m crumbling to dust, and every particle says his name. Rick. Rick. Rick.

He pistons up and into me. "Come," he snaps, and I cry out as I shatter.

With a grunt, he pounds into me and empties himself inside me.

For a few seconds, we stay there, eyes locked, breaths blended, my fingers digging into his shoulders, his palm heavy on the nape of my neck, his cock pulsing inside me.

Then, he picks me up and sets me on the floor.

His gaze turns bleak, and he looks away. "I need to go."