His eyes were the color of a blast of lightning, light and hot. Wolfish. He stared into me as he moved his hips and I gasped when I felt the tip of his dick nosing at my entrance. How did he do that?
I nodded yet again as if he needed my permission, and tried not to look away. I was sore, more than I thought, and my pussy burned brightly as I began to stretch around him.
I wanted to moan, to throw my head back and close my eyes, but I didn’t dare even blink. I didn’t want to do anything that would make him stop. Consciously I relaxed the burning muscles, trying to let him in. But he held back, advancing only a fraction at a time.
As he stared at me, I watched tiny puddles of sweat bead on his upper lip. His cock throbbed and thickened and each time it swelled I bit back another moan of pleasure. His chest pinned mine to the glass, preventing my hips from grinding my pussy onto his dick. The wait was torture. Every part of me cried out for that plunging, ramming cock I had felt the night before. I wanted to scream or beg.
“Declan, fuck me,” I finally whispered. “Please! Fuck me!”
A snarl ripped from his throat as he gave in and suddenly rammed himself into me the rest of the way. My belly and clit exploded in white fireworks with each thrust. Finally free, my hips ground in frantic circles. It was a torrent of relief but I didn’t look away. I wanted to see his eyes. I wanted to feel his pleasure when he came, and watch his face change, and see his expression.
Angling my hips back, I repositioned him so that every thrust also beat against my swollen and desperate clit. I could feel my orgasm spiralling up, filling like an overripe fruit.
He kissed me with his eyes open, sucking hard on my lower lip and tongue. His breath started to come in hoarse gasps.
“Fuck me!” I said again, and he pounded me even faster. Suddenly I felt his cock seem to thicken and grow and then the fruit burst open. Chevrons and ziggurats of color raced across my vision, obscuring him, blotting out the room. I let go with my thighs and let him hold me up completely by my wrists and pussy as he fucked me right into blindness.
Vaguely I heard him howling into my hair and an explosion of slippery warmth in my womb. But I was jelly. The fruit had split red, and all I could see was its meat.
Gingerly, he took my arms and set them one by one behind his neck. Wrapping his arms behind me, he turned my body sideways and folded into a seated position on the floor with me curled neatly in his lap.
“Oh, oh ho ho,” he chuckled shyly, rocking me gently. I was sweating and quaking and so happy to be encircled in his arms. “That was… I don’t even know what that was.”
“That was amazing,” I replied dreamily, watching the tiny curlicues of light continuing to dance at the corners of my vision.
“Yes,” he agreed and kissed my forehead a hundred times. “That was amazing.”
As bliss sank into my bones, I tried to banish the thought of the money that crept around the periphery of my brain. Was there a sense of relief? Maybe. I had to say yes to him. I had no choice. And I wanted him anyway, I knew.
But the thought wouldn’t go away. Declan wasn’t the sensitive, earnest person that Jackson was, I realized. And I had made a deal… A deal I was sure he intended to make me keep. I was certain I’d saved my house and maybe my career too, but I had to wonder, what did I just do?
###
BROKEN
Billionaire Brothers - Book 3
Meg Watson
CHAPTER 1
“INVITE ME TO DINNER,” Bridget demanded as soon as I answered her call. The bathroom three-way mirror showed my hand from infinite angles, holding the phone to my ear.
“Oh hi to you too, stranger,” said my million reflections, all haughty and self-satisfied because of the fact that she had called me first. I had not called her. Nope.
“Hi. Whatever. What time is dinner?”
“Geez… Um… Eight OK by you?”
“It’s fantastic.”
“What are we having?”
“Oh,” she sighed breezily, “I’m easy. Whatever you wanna make is great by me.”
I cough-laughed and racked my brains for recipes I could whip together in nine hours for… My fingers wiggled in the mirror. Four? I was cooking for four people? Doable, no problem.
“What’s the occasion?”
“I’m just checking in with my top talent, Margot von Trask of the LA von Trasks. You’ve heard of her?”
Oh, so now I’m talent?
“It’s not ringing a bell,” I muttered wryly.
“Well, it’s no wonder… She totally disappeared from the scene weeks ago and no one even knows if she’s still alive.”
“Whatever, Bridge. You didn’t sound so in love with my talent after the show, is how I remember it.”