Bedded at the Billionaire's Convenience(52)

‘Dreams of fairy-tale endings don’t make good bed companions…’ And she loved him. Loved him and wanted him and needed him and would take whatever he offered because it would always be better than nothing.

‘No,’ Pierre agreed, ‘they don’t.’ He began taking off his shirt and Georgie felt her heartbeat quicken.

‘Why did you stay?’ she asked, embarrassed at the way in which she was shamelessly devouring him with her eyes.

‘I wanted to make sure you were going to be okay,’ Pierre said truthfully.

‘I’m useless with alcohol.’ She lay back against the pillows and let her arms fall to her sides, at once shy of her body and yet turned on by her own daring.

‘Nice.’ He paused in his tracks and feasted on the sight of her. His shirt was off. Now he pulled the belt from his trousers in one easy movement and unzipped them. He had the perfect, well-honed body of a man who worked out. Well, he did, didn’t he? And probably pushed himself as ferociously in the gym as he did in every other aspect of his life. His shoulders were broad and she could see the definition of his stomach muscles. The man wasn’t just good-looking. How could she ever have thought that? The man took sexiness to new extremes. She felt like a maiden in a Victorian melodrama on the verge of swooning.

‘Do you like what you see?’ Pierre asked, amused by her blatant absorption with his body. He walked closer to the bed. Only the sheer strength of his will-power prevented him from rushing, from taking her quickly so that his body could be satisfied. ‘Pull down those covers. I want to see all of you. Nothing on.’

She obeyed so that she was lying in full view and, instead of reacting with feminist outrage that she was being looked at solely as a sexual object, she felt herself melting, wanting this man to just do what he wanted to do.

When, naked, he did finally join her in bed, it was as if she were coming home, returning to a place she knew and from which she should never be made to leave.

Fierce thrills washed over her as he supported himself over her, bending so that he could ravage her mouth with his, his tongue probing relentlessly, and she revelled in the feel of him as she scraped her fingers along his back and parted her legs so that she could feel the steady rub of him against her.

‘Glad I stayed?’ he growled, wanting to hear her say it and she did, eyes closed, her body panting to his rhythm.

Satisfied, he began exploring her body, inch by responsive inch, starting with her breasts, licking and nipping them with such lazy expertise that she arched up and cried out, soft moans that were wrenched out of her, sending his already hungry body into yet more agonising overdrive.

While he sucked her breasts, his fingers sought out her wet, swollen bud sheathed in damp, fair curls and he began teasing it.

‘When was the last time you made love?’ he asked.

‘Can’t remember. Ages ago.’
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‘Maybe you were subconsciously waiting for me. Am I worth the wait?’

‘Every minute…’

Those were the two most erotic words he had ever heard and he groaned thickly, reaching for her hand so that he could show her how he liked to be touched.

His lack of inhibitions in bed were a revelation to her. He knew what she wanted and how she wanted it and he was overcome with an urge to make sure his every touch was exquisite, memorable. He trailed hot kisses along her quivering stomach, nuzzled the soft flesh of her breasts, then clasped his hands under her bottom so that he could bring her to his mouth.

This was beyond anything Georgie could ever have imagined, having this glorious, powerful man shudder as he tasted her and explored her with his darting tongue, knowing that just the feel and the touch of her could ignite such fierce abandon.

When they reversed positions so that they could mutually taste each other, she could feel the same desperate passion contained in his body as was in hers and it gave her a confidence she had never thought possible. How could she doubt her own attractiveness to him when it was tangible?

And thinking for her, he was aware enough to enquire about protection.

‘I’ll be fine.’ She didn’t want him to stop and she wanted more than just oral stimulation. She wanted so much to feel him inside her, filling her up.

Pierre heaved himself up alongside her and cupped her breast in his hand, bringing her down from the heights to which he had taken her. ‘You’ll be fine? What does that mean, my darling?’

Georgie wondered whether she had heard correctly. Had he just called her my darling? It was a meaningless term of endearment, of course, but still…