The Billionaire’s Christmas Bride by L. Steele

24

Weston

"Mine to protect. Mine to possess and break. Mine to fuck so hard you won’t walk straight for days, and when you do, you’ll sense my cock in your deepest most intimate of places. I plan to not stop, not until we’ve fucked whatever is between us into the open, until my skin fuses with yours and I have invaded your secrets, gleaned your fears, and infused your innermost thoughts with my presence."

Her pupils dilate, and her face pales.

This is it then; she’s going to refuse me. I’ve bared myself to her, told her what I am thinking about and she’ll decide it’s not for her. She’s going to turn away from me, tell me she doesn’t want me or my money. She’s going to— She reaches out her hand, tugs at the condom I hold. She rips open the wrapper, then reaches down between us. She eases the condom over the swollen head of my cock, struggles with it. The condom slides over the rim and she smooths it down. I glance up to find her forehead furrowed in concentration. That line between her eyebrows crinkles. I lean down and press my lips to it. She positions my shaft at the entrance to her pussy.

"I want you," I mutter against her forehead. I press my lips to her eyelids, one after the other, to the tip of her nose, then press my mouth to hers, " I want to kiss you until your mouth can't ask for more." I nip on her chin. "Every part of you tastes of a different dessert."

She giggles and the sound is so light, so beautiful. My throat closes. I pull back enough to take in her features, watch her gaze widen as I kick my hips forward and impale her. Her mouth parts, a soundless scream that only I can hear. I wait for her pussy to adjust to my girth, for her channel to grip my dick, flow, melt, tug on my shaft. The tension builds at the base of my spine. Shit, I’ve never been so close to coming, so quickly before. The taste of her swirls on my tongue; the scent of her envelops my senses. I grip the backs of her thighs, drag my hand up one, then the other, urge her legs over my shoulders. "Hold on."

She nods, locks her ankles around my neck. I press my elbows to the table on either side of her head, then push in further. Her entire body seems to thrum; her eyelids flicker. She brings a hand up to my face. I turn my head and kiss her palm, then grip her wrist and twist her hand over her head. Her gaze widens and her breathing grows ragged. Fuck, if my little show of dominance didn’t turn her on even more. I bring her other hand up, shackle both of her wrists with my uninjured hand.

I pull back, then thrust into her with enough force that the entire table jostles. Something—one of the plates, or both—crashes to the floor. I begin to fuck her in earnest. Pull back, push forward, back, forward again. With every plunge, her body moves up the table. I wrap my fingers around her neck, lean some of my weight on her to hold her in place. Her pupils dilate further, the blue so light, the color of her eyes seems to mirror mine. I see my reflection in them, sense the climax building inside of her. I squeeze my fingers around her neck, and she gasps. Her chest heaves. She digs her heels into my back, tugs her hands in my grasp. I pull back, all the way back to the edge of her channel, then tilt my hips and impale her with such force that her eyelids flutter, she throws her head back, arches her spine, and the trembling shudders up her body, her chest. "Come." I loosen my grasp and she shatters. Her pussy clamps around my dick and moisture bathes my shaft. Her orgasm seems to go on and on, and when her shoulders slump, sweat beads her forehead, her upper lip. I bend down, lick it off. She stirs.

"Eyes on me," I demand.

She cracks her eyelids open, locks her gaze with mine, and I begin to move again, thrust into her, angle my hips and sink deep inside of her. Bury myself in her sweet melting cunt again and again. She reaches up, locks her lips with mine, her eyes still on mine. Something hot stabs at my chest, my balls draw up, the tension in my groin snaps and I come inside her.

Her eyelids flutter; her body twitches. I pull back, just enough for our breaths to mingle, then stay there and watch as her muscles uncoil, one by one. I watch her as her breathing deepens. A flush creeps up her cheeks. When I pull out of her, she stirs. "Don’t move," I whisper. Her lips curve. I pull off the condom, tie it up, then leave it on the table. I’ll have to come back for it later.

I scoop her up in my arms, kick the door to the kitchen closed behind me, and carry her to the ensuite in the bedroom. I lower her to the floor near the tub, take in her curves. "You're gorgeous." I lean in to kiss her, before placing her in the shower stall.

"Your splint," she murmurs, "you'll get it wet."

"It's waterproof." I reassure her.

She wraps her arms around me, presses her nose into the skin bared by the 'V' of my shirt collar. "You smell like chocolate." She giggles.

I lower my chin and kiss her head, "And you smell of me."

"Mmm." She nuzzles against me and my heart begins to race. A tightness coils in my chest. Shit... This... Tenderness... This whatever connection is there between us... It is the beginning of the end. If I continue down this path, it leads to a slippery slope. One I have no intention of traversing. Not for a long time. If ever.

I pry her arms from round me, and step back.

She frowns.

"Gonna look in on Max," I say. "Why don't you shower first, huh?"

She peers up into my face, then nods.

I pivot, shrug out of my sodden pullover and pants and dump the clothes in the laundry basket on the way out.

Once in the kitchen, I dispose of the used condom, along with the remnants of her clothes. I clean up any chocolate within reach of his short, little legs, then top off the food and water bowls for Max, who scrabbles in and attacks the food like he’s been starving. Speaking of, I need more of her. Fuck, this is ridiculous. I drag my fingers through my hair.

I've been away from her for a few minutes, and already, I miss her.

That sensation when I was inside her…? Fuck. It was…different, yet familiar. Like coming home. Home? What the fuck? I shake my head. So, the sex had been intense—more intense than any experience I’ve ever had before—it means we’re compatible in bed. So, I’ll fuck her, give her pleasure, make her orgasm more than she has ever before. I’ll ensure her time with me is the single most incredible experience of her life, that it spoils her for any man after.

The band around my chest tightens. Of course, there’ll be men after me… She isn’t mine…except for the length of this time that I’ve bargained from her. For the days that are left, I can make good on my promise. I can protect her, take care of her every need, treat her like the princess she is. And when we are done… I’ll walk way without a second thought.

I clench my fist at my side. Why the hell does it matter to me what she does after that, huh? I’ll use her for my needs, then leave. It’s what I do best. No commitments. Nothing holding me back. It will be a great break. I glance down at my hand with the splint… And the sex will, surely, only help the healing, huh? My heart hammers in my chest. So why the fuck am I standing here in the middle of the kitchen, still naked?

I straighten, march toward the door, when a scream sounds from the direction of the bedroom. I race forward.