Page 469 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Mira

He’s being salacious in his choice of words so he can shock me. And I am shocked. And aroused. His dirty talking voice rockets a buzz of lust to my core. My thighs tremble, and my scalp tingles. He must sense the effect on me, for a look of interest comes into his eyes. "You like that, Belle?"

"Of course, not. Why would I like it if you’re purposely being filthy in your speech."

"Because—" He shoves his hand between my legs and cups my bare pussy.

I gasp.

"—I can feel the moisture drip down your thighs and dampen on my crotch. I can"—he draws in a sharp breath—"smell your arousal intensify. I can—" He shoves two fingers inside me.

I whimper.

"—feel you clench down on me because you’re empty. I can—" He pulls out his fingers, only to run them up the cleavage between my asscheeks.

I flinch, try to pull away, but he smears the moisture on my forbidden entrance.

"Edward," I groan. "Please. Edward."

He continues to hold my gaze, continues to tease my puckered hole. I instantly tense, and he leans in and runs his nose up my throat. "Your scent drives me crazy. You smell of sweet apple blossom and innocence, and it makes me want to mess you up."

"It’s my shampoo." Goosebumps pepper my skin.

"Your shampoo?" He nuzzles my jawbone, my cheek, up to the corner of my eyes. It’s almost sweet and gentle and romantic and so like the man I know he is inside.

My muscles slowly unwind. A warmth steals up my limbs.

I sink into him, feel my legs go lax, my thighs, my butt-cheeks…

In a flash, he slides a finger inside me and past the ring of muscle in my back hole.

I gasp and bear down on him. "Edward, Ed." I dig my fingers into his hard shoulders. "Please, Ed."

"Shh, I promise, you’re going to enjoy it."

"I’m not yet."

"You will." He continues to whisper kisses over one eyelid, between my eyebrows, the other eyelid, down my cheek, to the shell of my ear. When he flicks his tongue inside, I shiver. When he bites down on my earlobe, I moan. And when he continues the path down my cheek to the other side of my lips, I can’t stop myself from turning to meet his lips. For a second, we stay there, gazing into each other's eyes, his lips touching mine, our breaths mingling, being shared, our eyelashes almost tangling. Something flickers deep inside. Those silver sparks I’ve seen before, joined, this time, by flashes of gold, sparkling, almost festive. "It’s like it’s already Christmas," I whisper.

His lips twitch, then he brushes his mouth over mine once, twice.

The third time, I sigh, and he slides his tongue between my lips.

He licks the seam, and my nipples tighten until they’re pinpoints of need.

He drags his tongue over my teeth and, fish in a train, those fires on my body, which are never too far from the surface, ignite again.

I’m burning up, little pinpricks of need clawing at me from inside.

I whine, and his body tenses. I lean in and push my tits against his chest, and a shudder grips him.

He’s destroying me, but I have the power to tear him apart, too.

This knowledge is an aphrodisiac that skyrockets the lust in my veins.

I wrap my arms about his chest and force my muscles to relax.

One-two-three, I bite down on his tongue, and his entire body turns granite hard.

The tension thrums off of him, the heat spooling off of his chest and slamming into mine.

I gasp, and he absorbs the sound, then tilts his head and deepens the kiss.

He drinks from me, ravages my mouth. As soft as his kisses were earlier, this is all inflexible and demanding, with a touch of meanness that is so very him.

Both sides are him. The tenderness and the ruthlessness, the gentleness and the ferocity, the compassion and the brutality.

He showed me the first without wanting to, and the latter… He wants me to see it, feel it, sense it, imbibe it. Like he did when he took me to the BDSM club, he thinks if he shows me his hidden depths, I’ll panic. That I’ll run and hide and never want to be in his vicinity.

What he doesn’t realize is I’m made of sterner stuff. I’m a survivor. I’ve learned to depend on myself. I persevere. I don’t give up easily. I hope. And yes, I pray. And I believe. In him. In us. Most of all, I believe in myself, and it’s time he saw that, too.

I slide my hand over his jacket-covered arm down to the back of his broad palm, and then his fingers.

I fit a second broad digit to my back hole and urge him on. His gaze widens, then a look of determination sweeps over his features. Without taking his eyes off of mine, he pushes his finger inside.

A slight pain threads over my nerve-endings.

Nothing I can’t bear, though. And the fullness…

It’s a little uncomfortable. Okay, very uncomfortable, but he doesn’t move.

He stays that way, allowing me to adjust to his size.

We stay silent, communicating with our eyes, then he brings his other arm up and wraps his fingers about the nape of my neck.

It’s a gesture of complete confidence, of domination, of ownership, a sign that he can do what he wants, a signal to my body to turn to a melting gooey mess.

It’s comforting and arousing and sends a signal to every part of me that I’m ready. I’m ready.

"I’m ready," I whisper.

He nods. "Good girl."

Oh, my god, that’s it; I’m undone. A small sound escapes my lips, and that’s enough.

His gaze crackles, his forearm bunches, and he begins to move his fingers in and out of me, in and out.

Widening me, loosening me up, preparing me for him.

And I want him. Oh, my god, I want him so very much.

I want everything he can give me. Everything.

And more. I want so much more. "Edward, please. "

This time, when he smiles, it’s a curve of his lips that has nothing to do with pleasure.

It’s an expression of satisfaction. Of approval.

I’ve passed some test I didn’t even know he’d set.

I open my mouth to ask; but before I can say anything, he stands up, lowers my feet to the ground, spins me around, and bends me over his desk.

I blink and realize my cheek is pushed into his desk, and my ass is up in the air.

Then he kicks my legs apart. There’s a ripping sound and my already torn skirt splits further.

"You’re an animal," I gasp.

"Finally. Took you long enough to recognize it."

He shoves my skirt up as far up as it will go, so it’s bunched under my armpit, then he urges my arms to my sides, curls my fingers around the edge of the desk.

"You good?"

I nod.

"Hold on tight."

"What—" A line of pain zips up my spine. It takes me a minute for my brain to catch up with my nerve cells. Then I yell, "Did you spank me?"

"Yup." His big palm connects with my left cheek, then the right, then the left, before he pauses. "I spanked you four times."

"What are you—" I yell again as he brings down his palm, alternating between my asscheeks, four more times. Four slaps, four more zings of pain that skitter to my core, curl around my clit like a lasso and pull tight. I moan and pant and curse. He laughs. The bastard laughs. I’ve never seen him enjoying himself so much.

"I hate you," I say through gritted teeth.

"Not yet."

He rubs his palm across my throbbing butt cheeks, and the contact sends another swish of sensations bursting up my spine.

My brain cells feel like they're melting. Everything around me seems to sparkle. He seems to have brought the Christmas spirit to life without lights, a-n-d I might be a tad high on whatever reaction he’s eliciting in my body.

Heat covers me. The edge of his jacket chafes my backside as he bends over me.

He pushes my hair away from my face and stares into my eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"I’m fine," I say in a dreamy voice.

He wraps his fingers, once more, around the nape of my neck. I sigh. I like when he does this; I like it a lot. He draws long strokes down my back over my blouse and skirt, down to the base of my spine, and up again.

Warmth seeps into my shoulders and my arms, and the muscles of my back unwind.

I stretch under him, feeling like I’m a cat, feeling my lips stretch up in a smile.

He bends and presses his lips to mine, and it’s soft and sweet and hard and demanding, all at once.

Jeez. "Where did you learn how to kiss like that? "

"It’s you," he murmurs into my mouth. "You make me want to show you how good it can be when I make love to you."

"Hmm." I smile. He said 'make love to you.' My gaze widens. I open my mouth to ask him…when something fat and blunt teases my forbidden hole.