Torn:Billionaire Bachelors Club #2(11)

Liar. You'd be devastated if you never saw him again.

He lifts his head, slipping a finger beneath the thin elastic waistband  of my panties, touching the bare, sensitive skin of my stomach. I hold  my breath, waiting for him to slip that finger lower, wanting it between  my legs. "Do you have to ask?"

Smug bastard. "I don't like you," I remind him. Reminding myself, too. I  really don't. He's trying to buy up my family's property so he can turn  it for profit, and we'll be left with nothing but some cash in the  bank, our legacy gone. I need to focus on that. How he wants to end our  presence, how he wants to squash my secret dream.

But all I can do is savor his touch and want more. More, more, more.

"Good," he grunts. "I don't really like you either." All the while that  finger trails lower, teasing down the front of me until he pulls  completely away and out from beneath my underwear.

I feel the loss keenly, the bastard. "Don't-"

"Don't what?" He grins, leaning in to press his mouth to mine as he lets  go of my wrists. "Don't touch you? Don't stop? Which is it, Marina?" He  whispers the questions across my lips, his own hot and delicious. I'm  torn. I don't know what to do. I want him to stop. But then again, I  want him to keep going. I want to know what it feels like to be with  Gage.

Feel him move inside me. Know what he looks like when he comes.

Closing my eyes, I fight my inner battle. And surrender myself to him.



Gage

SHE'S A GORGEOUS sight, pressed against the wall, her jeans hanging  halfway down her thighs, wearing the most innocent yet sexy panties I  think I've ever seen. They're white cotton, trimmed in delicate lace,  the fabric so sheer I can see her pubic hair. A tiny white bow dots the  center of the waistband, and the same silky ribbon ties around her hips,  bows dotting either side of her.         

     



 

I want to undo those bows and watch her panties fall away from her body.  Then I want to get down on my knees and bury my mouth between her legs.  I know she'll taste hot and wild. I wonder how many flicks of my tongue  will make her come.

Fuck, I'm beyond eager to find out.

"Come here." She grabs hold of my tie-I think she likes doing that-and  pulls me to her, my mouth falling onto hers. She opens for me easily,  her tongue doing a wicked dance against mine that has me so hard I'm  afraid I'll bust through the fabric of my pants, I want her so damn bad.

I guess the kiss is her answer to my earlier question. I know I  shouldn't want this either. That if I think about it too much, I'll put a  stop to the craziness. Because this is crazy, without a doubt. She's  too prickly for me.

But the prickliness has all but evaporated, leaving a passionate,  responsive woman in my arms. This woman shoving at my jacket until I  shake it off blows my mind. What the fuck are we doing? We're going to  have sex in the kitchen of her bakery. I've known her for only a couple  of days. I'm trying to buy out her family because they're desperate for  money.

And I'm trying to get in her pants because I'm desperate to be inside her.

She seems just as desperate, furiously attacking the buttons of my shirt  before she yanks on my tie yet again, loosening it around my neck. I  shrug out of it all then reach for her, pushing her shirt up and over  her head, my mouth going dry when I see her breasts barely covered in  the white, lacy bra.

Rosy pink nipples press against the lace as if they're yearning to be  free. I reach for her, flicking open the front clasp. The cups spring  away, revealing her full, perfect breasts, and I cup them in my palms,  brushing the tips with my thumbs.

"Oh God." She thumps the back of her head against the wall, her eyes  sliding closed as I continue to caress her breasts. I don't want to stop  touching her, watching her, enjoying her. She's so damn responsive and I  want to savor her, but my body-specifically my overeager and  greedy-as-hell cock-has other plans.

Unable to resist, I lean in and suck a plump nipple into my mouth,  lashing at it with my tongue, sucking hard. She threads her fingers into  my hair, holding me to her, and I lift my eyes, watching her. My skin  tightens in response at her expression. How lost she seems, how  overwhelmed.

Fuck, I can't wait to see her pretty face when she comes.

Within seconds we're a flurry of hands and mouths. Clothes being shed  until they form a big pile near our feet, shoes kicked off, condom  retrieved from my wallet, until we're both naked and panting, grinding  against each other but not necessarily doing anything about it.

Yet.

I pull away from her to tear open the condom wrapper then roll it on my  aching cock. I can't wait to be inside her, can't wait to pound my way  to orgasm and lose myself in her at least for a little while. Forget the  battle and the angry words and the fact that I'm stealing away her  heritage, just focus on the two of us together. Connected.

She whispers my name, and I glance up, find her staring at me with wide  eyes and parted, swollen red lips. I go to her, kissing her soundly as I  grab hold of her by the waist and lift her up. She weighs nothing; my  hands grip her perfect ass as she winds her long, smooth legs around my  middle, and I press her against the wall. My cock poised perfectly to  thrust forward inside her.

"You're big." She breathes the words, my erection pressing against the  soft give of her belly, and I smile, reaching toward her so I can brush  stray tendrils of wavy damp hair away from her forehead. She closes her  eyes and releases a shuddering breath, as if she has to prepare herself  for this moment, and I'm suddenly worried.

Is she changing her mind? Ready to back out? Fuck, I'm about to enter  her. If I think about it too long, I could probably come like an  overeager teenager if I don't watch it. I want to make this good, I want  to make it last, but not if she doesn't want this to happen . . .

"Now you're the one who's thinking too much," she whispers when I don't say anything, amusement filling her voice.

I meet her gaze to see she's smiling at me, the apprehension still  lingering in her eyes, but I can't worry about it now. Carefully, so  slowly I know I'm trying to kill myself by torture, I enter her body for  the first time. I register the quick intake of her breath, the way her  body tenses up for the briefest moment as I push inside. The give of her  welcoming body as I go deeper, all that silky, hot wet flesh wrapping  around me, sends me straight into oblivion.

Closing my eyes, I hold steady, my racing heart roaring in my ears. I  press my forehead to hers and swallow hard, trying to keep my shit  together, but it's so damn hard when she feels so damn good.         

     



 

"Ohmigod." Her words run together as she shifts against me, sending me deeper and we both groan. "Move, Gage. Please."

I do as she asks, surprised at her request. Breathing deep, I pull  almost all the way out, feeling her inner walls drag against my length  before I plunge deep inside and she clings to me, a low moan sounding  close to my ear. Her arms are around my neck, her face buried at the  spot between my shoulder and throat. I can feel her lips move against my  skin as she speaks.

"More," she encourages. "Harder, Gage. Please."

Christ. With that kind of encouragement I can have her bumping against  the wall within seconds but I don't . . . want to hurt her.

My brain registers this weird realization and I pause, swamped with  confusion. I always ensure the woman I'm with is satisfied, but I chase  after my orgasm as quick as I can like any other guy. Guess that makes  me a selfish prick. I think Marina might've even called me a selfish  prick today, or at least a variation of it.

Somehow, now that I'm inside her, I don't want to be a selfish prick at  all. I want to watch her, learn what she likes best. I want to see her  eyes, her entire expression grow fevered as I continue to push and push  with deliberate, sure strokes inside her body. I want to hear her breath  catch, hear her whisper my name just before I make her completely fall  apart.

And only then will I chase my orgasm. I want her satisfaction to come first.

I fill her, again and again, the slap of our damp bodies, the sound of  our sighs and moans mingling together. Reaching between us, I touch her;  she's so drenched and hot. Circling her clit, rubbing it, I feel her  tense all around me, squeezing me deep, and I close my eyes, hold my  breath. Desperate to make myself last.

Desperate to make this so good for her she'll forget every man she's ever been with.

She's chanting nonsense. My name and please and other, unintelligible  words mixed together, and all I can do is open my eyes and watch  helplessly. Captivated by her expression, her breaths, the way she  clings to me, her head tipped back as if she's lost in her own little  pleasurable world. I move faster, grinding against her, waiting for her  to fall completely apart because holy fuck, I'm dying to see it. Dying  to feel it. Feel her.

And then she's coming, a filthy word falling from her lips as she  shudders and shakes all around me. I remain still, my cock filling her,  my thumb pressing against her clit until her tremors slow, and she  becomes a warm, languid woman, limp in my arms, silly, sexy little words  still coming from her lush lips in a breathy whisper.