Page 31 of Undeniably Corrupt (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires #7)

I begin to move, setting a rhythm that’s neither gentle nor punishing.

At least not yet. Her legs tighten at my back and hip, pulling me deeper with each thrust. I watch her face, the way her lips part, and her eyes flutter closed, only to open again and lock with mine.

The connection feels almost unbearable in its intensity.

“Harder,” she urges, her nails digging into her palms above the bonds. “I won’t break.”

Something snaps inside me at her words. The restraint I’ve been clinging to, the ways I’ve been holding myself back, incinerate.

I give in to the raw need that’s been building since she first tumbled back into my life.

I grasp her hips, pull them up and off the bed, and drive deeper into her.

Giving it to her a hell of a lot harder, just as she asked for.

“Is this what you want?” I growl, watching her tits bounce with each thrust, my hips slamming in and out of her. “To be fucked like this? To be mine again?”

“God yes,” she moans, meeting each thrust with an arch of her hips, moving as best she can despite the restraints. Only I’m the one in control. I have the power with this. I squeeze her ass, holding her body tighter as I piston wildly, ramming my cock repeatedly into her.

I reach between us, my thumb finding her clit so I can circle in time with my thrusts. Her breathing changes, becoming more erratic, and I can feel her getting closer, her inner muscles tightening around me.

Sweat clings to my brow as I pump in and out of her at a rough, hard pace that has us both breathless.

I smack her tits and pinch her nipple, only to bend and cover it with my mouth.

Her tits are so fucking amazing, and just like the rest of her, they’re mine now.

Not for anyone else to ever see or experience again.

I press her down into the mattress, using my knees for leverage as I fuck up into her, holding her without giving her any room to move. All she can do is take what I choose to give her. “Do you like that? Do you want me to make you come?”

Her eyes pinch closed as she gives a shaky nod. “Yes. Please, I need it. ”

I bite her nipple and slip my hand between us to find her clit again, working it hard and fast as I fuck her. Her thighs quiver against me, her pussy growing tighter by the second. I’m so goddamn close, I’m barely hanging on. Her cunt. Her body. Her face. Her .

“Who owns you, Liora? Who do you belong to?”

“Ah. Vander. No.”

“Yes, baby. Yes. Don’t lie to yourself, and don’t lie to me.”

She pinches her eyes closed and shakes her head. But it’s there. She feels it too.

I grin and suck on her bottom lip, pushing hard on her clit and fucking her with everything I have. “That’s right, baby. Just mine. Just for my pleasure. That’s it,” I encourage, my own release building at the base of my spine. “Show me how dirty my girl fucking likes it.”

She cries out, her body tensing beneath me as waves of pleasure wash over her.

I keep moving, working her through it, watching the bliss transform her face into something almost painful in its beauty.

It’s so much she almost can’t stand it, and the pressure on her clit and the way I’m fucking her doesn’t let up.

“No. Ah, stop.”

“You don’t mean that.” I continue to take her like this, knowing I can get her to another orgasm.

Her face pinches up, and she’s struggling to catch her breath. “It’s too much. I can’t move. Can’t control it.”

“I’ve got you. Feel how I own every part of you and control your pleasure. Submit to it, Liora. I’ve got you.”

I roll her clit, lightening some of the intense pressure I was pushing on it, and adjust her so that both her legs are on my shoulders.

Climbing up onto my knees, I bring her with me, suspending her in the air.

With my other hand on her hip, I piston in and out of her, not slowing or letting up on this.

I need to come. I need to come so fucking badly, and I’m right there.

Hell, I’ve been right there since I first thrust into her.

But I won’t until she gives me another orgasm.

I drive into her, rubbing her faster, and on a screeching cry that has me covering her mouth with mine to stifle it, she comes, harder and hotter and wetter than the last time.

She fucking gushes all over me, and it sets off my own release.

I come inside of her, sucking on her lip and groaning and grunting into her mouth.

She whispers encouragements, filthy promises of what she wants me to do to her next time.

It’s those words—next time—that have me wrapping myself around her and holding on tight as the last of my aftershocks ripple through me.

I collapse, taking her with me, and for several moments, I can’t move or think beyond the pulsing pleasure still echoing through my body.

Eventually, I shift my weight to avoid crushing her and reach up to untie her wrists.

The silk has left faint red marks on her skin, and I bring each wrist to my lips, kissing the tender spots and rubbing the ache out of them.

“You okay?” I ask, suddenly concerned that I was too rough.

She smiles, a lazy, satisfied curl of her lips. “I’m good.”

I pull her into my arms, her back to my chest, and our legs tangle together.

The sweat cools on our skin, and when I notice goose bumps on her arms, I pull the blanket over us.

I have no clue what I’m doing, but I’m unable to stop as I press kisses to her shoulder, neck, and the back of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair, loving how she still uses my shampoo.

We lie here breathing together, the weight of our history and a million spoken and unspoken words suspended between us. I don’t know what to say. What I should offer her and what I shouldn’t. Hell, I don’t even know what I want other than her.

Her fingers trace patterns on my arm, and I tense. She hasn’t seen my tattoo yet. How will she react when she does? What will I tell her about it ?

Too soon, she pulls away and sits up, keeping her back to me. “I should go back upstairs. Hazel might wake up.”

“Right,” I say, reluctantly loosening the last of my hold on her.

We’ve crossed a line we can’t uncross. The taste of her is still on my tongue, the feel of her still imprinted on my skin. My bed smells like her, like us together, and I already know I’ll be haunted by it when I try to sleep.

I sit up, running a hand through my hair, uncertainty spiraling through me.

My entire life has been upended. The careful walls I’ve artfully constructed, she’s breached.

The truth is, I’m still in love with her.

I never stopped. But I’m not sure how to reconcile how I feel about her with what my life is. With what her life is.

She turns and kisses me once more, soft and sweet, but brief and a little detached, before she slips from the bed.

I watch her gather my shirt and slip it back on.

She looks rumpled and thoroughly fucked, and something possessive stirs in my chest at the sight.

I don’t want her to go back upstairs. I want her to sleep in here beside me.

That feeling quickly turns on me as she throws me a fleeting glance and walks out of my room.

I fall back and press my fists into my eyes. For better or worse, Liora is under my skin. She’s in my blood. She’s my girl. The one I let get away and the one I’m positive I’ll never get over. Yet she’s not even close to being there with me.

Now that I’ve had this with her, how am I supposed to let her go?