Page 25 of The Reluctant Billionaire (Love in London #5)

Lotta

H oly hell.

That was the most intense orgasm ever, thanks to Aide’s magic mouth and hands. I attempt to catch my breath, gather my wits, as I rub my forehead into the sofa cushion.

‘Jesus, you’re delicious,’ he says behind me. He presses a kiss to my clit as he slides his fingers out of my body. I’m instantly bereft. I’m going to need to fill myself up with a lot more Aide, and quickly.

I rear up to my knees and stretch like a cat as he collapses on the sofa behind me. When I turn, he’s sitting, his head lolling on the back cushions and his face watchful. Intense. A glance at the insane tent in his trousers tells me the poor guy must be in some discomfort.

He is a sight for sore eyes. I may have bawled him out for his deception and given him some grief about not being interested in this monied version of him, but I’d be lying if I said the man in front of me isn’t spectacular.

Powerful.

Arousing.

It’s a lot to process. I came in here pissed off and devastated that Aide wasn’t the guy I thought he was, and I’m reeling.

Reeling because we’ve had so many connections in our past, and I failed to spot any of them.

Reeling because I honestly thought the billionaire thing would be a massive turnoff where Aide is concerned and yet I’m blown away by and desperate for more of the man I see before me.

And, you know, reeling because he’s just delivered me one of the best orgasms of my life.

Basically, it’s all broken my brain.

I gaze into those incredible blue eyes of his as I edge towards him on my knees and throw a leg over him. The stuff he was saying to me when he was going down on me, about him being a CEO and me being in his office, got me so hot before he even put his mouth on me.

I’m not going to lie; it felt kind of porno, and in a really great way.

You know, Fucking the CEO. I’m also up for its sister title, Sucking the CEO.

I’m the co-founder of a massive business and a major power player in my own right.

I usually scoff at the idea of some guy using me as his plaything, using me to make him feel more powerful.

But in this moment, the dynamic is seriously doing it for me.

It’s partly to do with how fucking hot Aide looks like this.

Obviously, the guy could dress himself in Lidl carrier bags and he’d look gorgeous.

But the immaculate white shirt and perfectly cut black trousers really enhance his looks, his demeanour, his everything.

I was here for the BBB—Basic Builder Brawn, where all his primal charms were laid out for me on a platter.

But here, in his office, clad in the beautiful custom uniform that’s supposed to denote restraint, civility, his animalistic side is even more alluring.

The uniform is a foil. A pathetic, inadequate shield against the man Aide really is. He’s just shown me the tip of the iceberg.

I think back to his words just now.

If you think for a second there isn’t an animal lurking in plain sight here, you’re even less observant than I thought you were.

I mean, fuck. How is a girl supposed to respond to a line like that when it’s growled at her while said animal fixates her with his predatory blue eyes?

When he said that, I knew I didn’t stand a chance against him. I didn’t want to. I knew in that moment that the throw-down with this new version of Aide might be even more savage than what I’ve experienced at his hands so far.

I was right.

I take him in as I lower myself down into his lap, grinding my still-sensitive pussy against his erection. I bite my lip. Jesus, that feels good.

He is a seriously beautiful man. That dark beard of his looks more neatly trimmed than it did last week.

It showcases the sharp jut of his jaw and the generous curves of his lips, which still bear evidence of my arousal on them.

His eyes are hooded as he observes me from under that thick black canopy of lashes.

The top button of his shirt is open, but I need more.

I need to see my gorgeous, hairy Aide in all his glory.

He shudders as I lower my mouth to his, running my tongue slowly over his lower lip and tasting myself on it.

With one hand, he grabs the back of my neck, pressing me to him as his tongue finds mine.

He kisses me like a man who’s been pushed past the point of reason, his lips hard against my mouth and his tongue taut.

Invading me. I open myself up for him and grind myself harder against him as his other hand goes to my bum, kneading and pulling me against him.

‘Fuck,’ he grunts against my lips. ‘I could come like this.’

‘Condom,’ I say breathlessly. I sit back as he arches his back, digging in his pocket for his wallet. I take advantage of the moment to slip his shirt buttons through their buttonholes, tugging the shirt out of his waistband so I can finish opening it.

There he is.

I smirk as I survey my handiwork. ‘Hot as hell,’ I murmur.

The crisp white shirt lies open, giving me the perfect view of Aide’s hard, tanned, hairy body underneath, that intricate Celtic cross resting right between his collarbones.

God, he’s a work of art, and exposing his raw masculinity beneath his custom tailoring is like unwrapping the perfect present.

I take that back as he holds up a condom for me. ‘Put it on me, sweetheart.’

This is unwrapping the perfect present.

Unbuckling his understated but very nice belt.

Unzipping those lustrous Italian wool trousers.

Tugging down the waistband of his black boxer briefs so I can extricate his dick.

Oh God, yes .

Would you look at that.

He’s ready to explode.

I rip open the foil and position the condom over his angry, swollen crown before rolling it carefully over his length. He rumbles low in his throat and palms my boobs, weighing them, kneading them in his hands as his fingers strum my nipples, sending new flashes of heat straight to my core.

‘Fuck, I missed these,’ he tells me with a pained grin as I raise myself far enough off his lap to position myself directly above his cock.

We stare at each other as I lower myself down onto his thick length, inch by inch.

As the glorious sensation of fullness sweeps over me I explore his body, sliding my hands under his shirt, along the bunched muscles of his shoulders, over his pecs.

‘Yes,’ I tell him through clenched teeth.

Sweat prickles on my skin as I attempt to accommodate him because gosh is it a tight fit.

He groans, his big hands sweeping over my bare skin, eyes searching my face. ‘Fuck, sweetheart,’ he says. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah,’ I manage. ‘It feels amazing.’

‘You’re nearly there.’

Nearly. Bloody hell. I force myself to exhale, to relax, to allow my body to take him in more fully. Then I give, and he jerks, and he’s fully sheathed inside me.

‘Give me a second to enjoy this,’ he whispers, ‘because I’m not sure I’ll last long.’

I nod, bending my head to kiss him deeply as I marvel at the sensation of being completely full of him. His hands are everywhere, stroking me, caressing me. They worship my boobs, and rake through my hair, and slide down my back, and grip my hips.

There’s something about being completely naked while Aide remains fully dressed that’s infinitely arousing.

It’s as if he’s reminding me of his power.

He’s the one in charge. He’s the one sitting back in his crazy office, his business on hold while he prepares to fuck a stark-naked woman, to have her writhe and purr for him in his lap.

The idea of it, and the physical reality of being impaled on his dick, is overwhelming.

My body needs more.

I grab onto his shoulders and drag myself up his dick. The friction is indescribable. I pause when only his crown remains inside me and hold there.

‘Fuck, Lotts,’ he murmurs, taking advantage of my height to dip his mouth to my breast and take a leisurely taste of my nipple.

He snags it lightly between his teeth and flicks it with his tongue, making a ravenous humming noise as he does it.

God, it feels amazing. I whimper and rake my fingernails through his thick hair to show my appreciation.

He switches boobs, his fingers working my still-wet nipple, and I feel his crown pulse against my entrance.

He releases my nipple with a pop and sits back, jerking his hips towards the front of the sofa so he can recline more fully. I almost lose my grip on him.

‘Ride my cock hard, sweetheart,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘Hard as you can.’

This time, I almost lose a lot more than my grip.

Because, in this moment, he looks every inch the mega-successful businessman, his clothes just undone enough to reveal the animal beneath.

That chest is flawless. Hairy. Masculine.

His cock’s everything I need. He may think he’s putting me to work, which is hot in itself, but really, he’s letting me unleash myself on him.

Feast on him.

Go to town on him.

I arch my back and toss my hair back over my shoulders as I sit back down. Hard. Taking every inch, feeling him hit the place deep inside me that he found the other night. It’s so otherworldly good my mouth opens in a silent scream.

Aide, on the other hand, lets out a loud grunt. ‘Fuck. Me.’ He finds my bum and gives it a go faster smack before smoothing his palm over my skin.

It seems my caveman is back.

Sweaty, grimy vest and work pants.

Impeccable Tom Ford tailoring.

It’s all the same, apparently.

Because the man beneath both disguises is my absolute favourite beast.

If he wants me to ride him like the best, sparkliest showgirl, I will. I feel wanton astride him like this. Carnal. I’m totally bare for him, my boobs rubbing against his eager mouth and my bum brushing against the fabric of his trousers every time he bottoms out in me.

It seems I’ve well and truly brought out the animal in him, too.

He’s not holding back on any front. As I grind against him, he meets me as best he can, thrusting up into me with hard drives, those gorgeous abs of his rippling with effort as he does.

For someone who told me he’s close, he’s holding out admirably, though I can see from the slick of sweat on his forehead and the pained awe etched on his gorgeous features that the effort is taking its toll.

He’s restless, hands roaming, fingers and mouth on my breasts.

My face. He tugs at my lower lip with his teeth before dragging his mouth down my neck and sucking hard between muttered compliments.

Curses. Hoarse words of adoration. Encouragement.

It’ll mark where he’s sucking me, but I’m past caring.

I want him to mark me.

I grind against him as the inevitable ache builds and builds deep inside me.

The more fiercely I bear down on him, let him fill me up, the more exquisite the feeling becomes.

Pleasure blooms deep within me, blissful tendrils of it unfurling in my core and creeping through my body, oxidising my blood and lighting up my nerve endings as I lose myself in this ageless rhythm with Aide.

It’s not just having him reach those parts inside of me.

It’s everything .

The scent of him and the slickness of his sweat and the bulk of soft hair and warm skin and taut muscle under my fingertips and the primal need shining from those eyes of his and rasps of our ragged breathing and the wet sounds of my body sucking him in.

It’s too much.

He uses a hand to grip my hip, the impressions his fingers make on my skin telling me how desperate he is to guide me to ride him just how he needs.

His hands, his eyes, his noises beseech me, but I’m conscious enough to know that I’m doing this for myself as much as for him, that, above all, I’m listening to the call from within my own body for more, more, more.

‘I’m gonna— God , I’m—’ And with that, the wave that’s been cresting breaks, and I splinter into a million fragments around Aide, bucking and grinding and crying out and biting down onto the cotton covering one huge shoulder in an attempt to absorb this shockwave.

He follows me over the edge, one hand still on my hip and the other gripping the back of my neck as he holds me down, impaling me on him as he jerks out his own violent climax inside me.

‘Fuck, Lotts,’ he grunts incoherently. ‘ Fuuuuck .’

His thrusts stop.

His hands still.

I wearily raise my heavy head from his shoulder and lean my forehead against his for a moment before I find his mouth.

He kisses me hungrily, stroking my mane of hair back from my face.

Off my shoulders. He gathers it up and winds it around his fist as he continues to worship my lips.

When his kisses slow, I ease away, putting enough distance between us to look at him.

His face is sated, relaxed, his features wiped clean of the frustration, the need they reflected a few moments ago. Those astonishing eyes are soft, and he’s smiling gently at me.

‘Hope that convinced you I’m still me,’ he mumbles in the manner of one who hasn’t quite recovered his power of speech yet.

‘It most certainly did,’ I tell him, and I lean forward to capture his mouth again.