The Billionaire’s Christmas Bride by L. Steele

4

Weston

The hell am I doing? I’d meant to haul her to her feet and throw her out of the house, so I could get on with the quiet time I’d hoped to have over the holidays. Instead, I can’t stop myself from tugging down on her hair. She flinches, raises her head, and the sight of those pink lips wrapped around my cock—bloody fuck—lust spirals through my veins hot and hard. Fuck. "I am going to do this my way, Buttercup. You understand that, hmm?"

She stares up at me, pupils blown, the green of her irises a slim circle around the black. Bloody hell, she’s aroused, and so hot. I ease her head forward, and my dick disappears inside her mouth. My vision narrows and my scalp tightens, "Bloody fuck, I can’t stop." I tighten my fingers in her hair; she winces. Lust spirals down my spine. The thought of bringing her to the edge, of hurting her just enough to give her the kind of pain which will heighten her pleasure…hell. My breathing grows ragged and my chest heaves. "Nod if you understand," I snarl.

Her eyebrows knit and her tiny hands massage my balls.

Pinpricks of heat race up my back. "Amelie," I warn her.

Her gaze widens and her movements become more frantic.

She leans into me until her elbows are positioned on my thighs, her head tipped up, her entire body tiny enough to fit exactly between my legs. She releases me, only to whisper her fingers up the back of my butt, into the crease between my arse cheeks…and that’s when I snap. I drag her back a few inches…enough for her to pull back her hand. She draws in a breath, her cheeks hollow, and fuck, if I don’t feel the suction all the way to my head. This woman, where did she learn to blow me like this? If I give her free rein, she’ll suck my brains through my dick. A chuckle flicks up my throat, and anger…a slow burn of an emotion that’s very much like jealousy. What the—? Am I jealous of whoever she was with before me? I’ve never had a problem with that before. All of my partners have been seasoned, experienced enough… Jaded and cynical. Happy to fuck and walk away… And her… I am going to fuck her, all right… And then what? I’ll have to let her go. My guts twist. Why the hell is that an issue? This entire encounter has had the touch of surreal to it from the moment I’d opened the door of the hot tub area and seen this pixie of a woman.

Fuck her mouth, show her I’ll take no quarter, make sure she understands that all of those dreams she carries around in her head—babies and puppies and all things nice? That’s not what she’s going to get from me. What she can expect is a man who knows what he wants, who goes after it and claims it…who takes no prisoners, as I am about to show her. "I need to see you nod your assent," I reiterate.

She pauses…a beat, another, then she jerks her chin.

Thank fuck. I haul her forward and my dick slides down her throat. Hot, moist, so fucking good that I almost come on the spot. I bring my other hand to the base of my cock, squeeze it to stop myself. Then I begin to use her mouth. I pull her back and forward, and again. Each time, my cock slips in between her gorgeous lips. Once more and her teeth graze the skin of my shaft. Ripples of pleasure flood my skin, my balls harden, my groin tightens, and I can’t remember the last time I came this close, this quickly. I haul her close; this time her lips fasten around the girth of my cock, and when I pull her back, she curls her tongue around my swollen head. Goosebumps pop on my skin, my thigh muscles bunch, and the tension in my belly grows, becomes enormous. Fuck. "I am going to come."

She stares up, holds my gaze.

"You’re going to take all of me, you understand?”

She nods.

"Every single last drop."

She brings her hand back up to cup my balls again and I explode. Hot gusts of cum pour out of me, and she swallows, not breaking eye contact, and damn her, but it’s the hottest, most erotic thing I have seen ever. Liquid spills down her chin, onto her top, but she doesn’t pause. She continues to suck on me, swallowing until I swear there’s nothing left in me to come. I step back; my cock drops from her lips with a wet plop. The hair on the back of my nape rises. I haul her to her feet, peer into her features. "You’re something else, you know that?"

She opens her mouth, and damn her, but I don’t want to hear her speak. No explanations. No need to dissect what just happened. So I do the only thing I can, considering the circumstances. I drop my head, place my lips over hers.

Mistake… Mistake… All of my senses jangle. A shudder of electricity screams up my spine and my dick instantly perks up… The fuck? I just came. It’s a record, even for me. Why the hell is she having this effect on me? I pull back, but she rises on tip toe, throws her arms around me… Or as much of me as she can reach which, considering she comes to chest level, means she winds herself about my upper arms. She tilts her head, follows me. She parts her lips, swings her leg about my thigh. Only when my palm cups her butt, do I realize I’ve hoisted her up. She locks her ankles around my waist, licks my mouth. Heat flushes my cheeks; blood thunders at my temples. A growl rips from me, and I tighten my hold under her butt.

The scent of her, that sweet pastry essence, fills my senses, goes to my head. I can’t stop myself; I kiss her back. Then yank her close enough for her breasts to flatten against my chest; for me to feel the hard buds of her nipples bite into my flesh.

A moan whines from her. She loops her fingers around my neck, digs her fingers into my hair and strains in my hold. Her melting core cocoons my hardness. My dick nestles against the crotch of her jeans, which I am happy to report is soaked right through. She wriggles around, trying to get closer. A chuckle rips from me. So impatient, this little thing is. I drag a hand up her spine, to lock my palm about her nape. She stills; a sigh trembles from her lips.

Hmm, she likes a firm hand, huh? Happy to oblige. I swipe my tongue over her teeth, down the seam of her lower lip. She groans; her body trembles. She pushes her core into my cock, which happily nestles into her. Fuck. This willing, quivering mass of woman is too enticing, too seductive…too much everything. If I continue to kiss her, I’ll have to take her, and one time won’t be enough. I’ll have to fuck whatever it is between us out of my system, which could take…days… Hell, weeks… Probably all of the time that I’d allowed myself here… And how is that going to work out, hmm?

I lessen the intensity of the kiss. She whines, coils herself into me, as if she wants to crawl under my skin… Fuck, if she hasn’t already, in some way. Which is not too bad, hmm? What the—what am I thinking? I don’t want a woman in my life. Not now. Not when I’m trying to heal myself. I need to rest up, ensure my mind and body are rested and ready to go. It is my career at stake, if I don’t mend. As a surgeon, the operations I perform demand that my faculties be more than a 100% when I perform procedures. It’s the one thing that makes my life worthwhile—being able to save others. Perhaps because when I am in surgery, I am in control. It is in my hands to take charge, to see the operation through, ensure I do my best, snatch people back from the jaws of death and restore them back to their lives.

Something I could only hope for during the time I had been kidnapped and held hostage. Is that why I like to play God? Or as close to it as it gets, when I hold someone’s heart in my palms...like she held my balls in hers. Her touch, her kisses, the flow of her hair about her shoulders, the pulse of her blood at the base of her neck, at her chest, between her thighs… Why do I want to acquaint myself with every goddam nook and crevasse of her body? I tear my mouth from hers.

Her chin wobbles, she blinks, and a whine spills from her lips. "Weston," she mumbles.

My name from her mouth, her tongue drawing out the vowels, her every part reaching, aching, wanting me… Fuck… I can’t do this. Can’t allow myself to feel whatever it is that connects us. I am not ready for this… Will never be ready for whatever it is that she wants from me—the kind of commitment not spoken, but voiced with her actions, her reactions to me, since she had entered.

"Weston?" She peers up at me, "Hey..." She cups my cheek, and her touch sinks into my blood. My pulse rate ratchets up and my cock—that needy part of me—instantly stands to attention. Fucking fuck, I gotta get out of here. Max chooses that moment to come tearing back into the space. Thank fuck. He parks his little body next to my leg, then paws at my ankle.

"The puppy," I say, "he needs to be fed."

She swallows; the brightness dulls in her eyes. My heart stutters. It fucking stutters at that. Why the hell is she affecting me like this? I can’t let her get to me. Not now. Not ever.

"So you know, I am not sorry."

"Huh?" Her eyebrows knit, "What are you talking about—?" Her gaze widens as I grip her under her armpits and hold her away from my body. The cold instantly infiltrates my chest. Fuck… Now I am getting melodramatic, or perhaps, I’ve simply been standing around without clothes for too long.

"Don’t you dare, Wes—"

I release her.

She plops into the hot tub and water splashes over the sides.

"You asshole," she splutters. "How dare you?"

"Oh, I dare, alright. In fact, I’m just getting started. I am taking over the house for the holidays. You’ll have to find yourself other accommodations."

"Weston— You motherfucker," her screech follows me. "Come back right now, or else…"

I pause, glance at her over my shoulder, "Or else?"

"Or else...you’ll never find out about the proposal I have in mind for you."