The Billionaire’s Christmas Bride by L. Steele

34

Weston

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This sweetness. This feeling of absolute surrender from her that punches me in the gut. My heart begins to pound and the blood thuds at my temples. She parts her lips; I deepen the kiss, swipe my tongue inside her mouth, draw from her taste, suck on her lips... And she gives and gives. A hot sensation coils in my chest.

Without taking my mouth from hers, I bend my knees, grip her under her thighs and lift her up. She wraps her legs around my waist. Her soft core cradles my dick, her breasts thrust up and into my chest. I tilt my head, crush my lips to hers. Her scent fills my senses, her taste goes to my head. I stalk forward and into the bedroom. She winds her arms about my shoulders, tilts her chin up. The softness of her mouth, the heat of her pussy, her pebbled nipples that are imprinted into my skin—all of it sinks into my blood. A pressure builds behind my rib cage. I lower her to the bed, but she doesn’t let go.

I lean over her, supporting my weight on my elbows. I press her down into the mattress, thrust my tongue down her throat, drink from her, wanting more…more. I reach down, position my throbbing shaft at the entrance of her pussy.

She moans deep in her throat, digs her heels into my back. The condom. I tear my mouth from hers. "Protection," I mutter.

"I’m on birth control." She stares up, blue eyes darkened to an azure, stormy clouds in their depths. "Come inside me," she whispers, "I want you, Weston."

"Like this?"

"Only like this." She pushes her hips up, her melting core opening, giving, needing.

"Fuck." I kick my hips forward, and slide into her, all the way in.

Her body jerks and the breath leaves her in a rush. I hold her gaze and begin to move, thrusting harder with each shove, plunge, thrust, propelling forward again and again. She grips me with her thighs, buries her fingers in my hair and tugs. I look deeply into her eyes, into the horizon I’ve seen all this time, the one that had seemed so far away when it was always right here. In front of me. Under me. With me… Next to me. "Come with me," I push into her, impale her, bury myself so deeply that my balls slap against her thighs.

She opens her mouth in a wordless scream; her body shudders and moisture fills her channel and bathes my dick, as I come inside of her. I thrust a few more times, as her body trembles in the aftermath of the climax, then reach down, scoop up the liquid that spills from us. I hold it to her lips. She sucks on it, swallows.

"How do we taste?" I ask.

"Of sin and chocolate," her lips quirk, "of cruelty and togetherness; of lust and secrets." Her voice lowers, "A strength to do what it takes."

"Can you take what I am going to do to you?" I wonder aloud.

"What?" She frowns.

I pull out of her.

She lowers her legs. I lean back on my knees, then stand and step away, over to the side of the bed. "Get up," I jerk my chin at her.

Her forehead creases, but she sits up. Her shirt—my shirt—that she wears is pushed up about her waist and her pussy glistens with the evidence of our combined cum. The sleeve slips down one shoulder, baring the reddened skin of her chest. Skin I’d touched, sucked, marked, fondled…lips I’d worshipped, breasts I’d cupped, nipples I’d pinched. I step back, rake my gaze one last time over the concave of her stomach, the curve of her hips, the creamy expanse of her thighs, the delicate nip of her ankle, her toes, her hitched breath as she swings her legs over and straightens.

"You can go now," I tell her.

"Wait," she straightens her shirt, "what do you mean?"

"Leave," I jerk my chin toward the door.

"W...where?" she stutters, "What just happened."

Everything."Nothing," I growl.

She takes a step forward, "That… What took place between us... It was different. I was sure you felt something for me. I know that you want me."

"So?" I pull the waistband of my sweats up my waist. "I want many women… Doesn’t mean I have to keep them around."

"I am not one of them," she snarls.

"Oh?" I look her up and down, "Just because my dick loves you," I smirk, "because I see your face and my dick gets hard, I hear your voice and my dick gets hard, I know you’re in the next room and my dick gets hard… Doesn’t mean I feel the same."

"You’re not making any sense." She twists her fingers together. "I know you’re scared. You’ve never allowed yourself to open up to another—"

"You think I opened up to you?"

"You did." She steps close and our toes bump, her nipples brush up against me; that chocolate and honey of her scent intensifies. My heart begins to pound and my chest hurts. Shit. Let go of her, get her out of here. Walk away; don’t look back. Release her from that stupid-ass arrangement that never was.

"You’ll get your money. All of it," I snap.

She blinks, "Excuse me?"

"The million a day for six days? It’s yours."

"You think this was only about money?"

It had to be."What else could it be about?"

"Did you think, for even one second, that maybe I wanted to be with you?"

"You wanted to be shut up with me in a cabin with no electricity, over Christmas?"

"Why not?"

"You wanted to spend Christmas getting to know my family?"

"It’s the first time I’ve felt at home anywhere." She sets her jaw.

My guts twist. Shit, this isn’t easy. Why do I feel like I am tearing out my heart? Why the hell do I care that she seems close to a break down? You’ve barely met her... You know everything about her. I know nothing of what she wants… She wants you, that’s clear. She needs you as much as you are drawn to her. She senses the connection that binds you together…

And that is the fucking problem. I don’t want it. I can do without it. I have enough demons of my own to contend with. I don’t need this beautiful, gorgeous angel who swept in and threatens to upset my carefully structured life… Which had, by the way, gone down the shitter since she’d flounced into that cabin and turned my life upside down.

"Too bad; they are not yours."

"Too bad for you." She tips up her chin, "I’m yours. You know it and it scares you."

"You think I am scared?" I laugh.

"I think you are petrified. For the first time, you don’t have a plan and it terrifies the hell out of you."

"The only thing that terrifies me is that I’ll have to hold you while you have a breakdown, and trust me, Princess, that’s not on my list of most-wanted things to do right now."

"I don’t believe you." She clenches her fists by her side. "All of this is an act."

"That…" I tilt my head in the direction of the bed, "was an act. Guess I’m good, huh? I take credit."

"For what?"

"I won the bet with myself."

"What bet?"

"Making you fall in love with me… Remember what I told you?"

She squeezes her eyes shut, "That you’d break my heart."

"Have I, Princess?"

She stiffens, opens her eyes, stares straight into mine, "Mine is not the only heart that’s breaking; and you know what else?"

I tilt my head.

"You care about me. You’re in love with me, but you don’t want to admit it. By the time you realize it, it will be too late. You’ll come begging for forgiveness, and guess what I am going to do then?"

Sweat beads my palm... Tell her to leave, to take her chocolate scent, her crazy-ass satchel of baking tools, her penchant for swearing in a vocabulary that consists solely of desserts, and walk out of here. Don’t look back at her. Don’t indulge her questions. Don’t ask her what she means by that tirade. "What?" I growl, "What the fuck would you do then?"

She reaches behind her, grabs the box of cookies she’d baked and empties it over my head, "Is that answer enough for you?"

Turning, she walks out.