Beauty and the Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #2)(47)

“Sit down again,” he told her, the tightness in his throat her only indication of his nerves.

She unhooked her bra and tossed it to the ground, then slid in front of him. She turned to face the desk, her bare ass presented to him. And then, slowly, Gretchen sat back down on his lap, his c*ck a hot bar of iron pressing against her backside.

“Take me inside you, Gretchen.”

She lifted her h*ps and positioned him at her entrance. When she looked in the mirror, she saw his gaze was not on her, but on the spot where their two bodies would join. He wanted to watch his c*ck sink into her. The thought was a deliciously scandalous one, and she descended slowly, moving inch by inch to take him inside her.

He groaned, his fingers clutching her h*ps tightly as she began to work him into her. “Ah, f*ck,” he gritted. “You feel amazing.”

She rolled her h*ps a little, taking him deeper, but moving slowly—he was thick and exquisite and she wanted to drag this out for both his pleasure and hers. Her gaze strayed to the mirror, fascinated by the fact that she got to watch his face. The scars on the side of his face stood out white against the flush of his skin, and his face seemed full of tension.

And then she’d taken him all the way into her, her legs straddling his, her ass against his stomach.

His forehead pressed to her back and he groaned again, loudly. “Never thought I’d feel anything so good, Gretchen. Never.”

Her heart gave a little flip at the intensity in his voice. “The fun’s just starting,” she told him softly, and dug her h*ps in and rocked.

His hands clenched against her. “Ah!”

“Oh, Hunter. You’re so deep inside me. That feels unbelievable.”

“Gretchen,” he breathed raggedly.

She began to work her hips, moving slowly over him in a subtle rocking motion. She leaned forward, bracing her arms against the desk, and began to bounce her h*ps on him, controlling the depth of each stroke.

He groaned again, and her eyes flew to him in the mirror. He was contorted in something curiously close to ecstasy, the look on his face so open and raw and exposed that it made her heart hurt a little. When had she ever had a lover look at her quite like that?

Never.

“Touch me, Hunter,” she told him, continuing to work her h*ps over him. “I’ve got you. Just touch me.”

To her surprise, he pulled her back against him, until her body was flush against his chest. His hands grasped her br**sts tightly, and she cried out in pleasure when his fingers teased her n**ples, her head lolling back against his shoulder.

He kissed her neck even as he continued to roll her n**ples. The sensation was so overwhelming that she forgot to move her hips, until he thrust into her, hard. She gasped again.

“Damn,” he groaned against her ear. “I think I like you being on top, but I want to be in charge for a bit.”

“I’m all yours,” she told him in a trembling voice.

He thrust hard again, and she whimpered, his fingers playing on her tight, aching n**ples.

“Lean forward,” he told her in a voice rough with desire. “On the desk.”

Excitement pulsed through her, sending another wave of slickness through her sex. She bit her lip and tilted forward until she had her stomach pressed against the edge of the desk.

“Forward more,” he told her, rolling his chair back a few steps.

Their bodies parted, and she whimpered a protest at the loss of his c*ck deep inside her. But she leaned forward onto the cold, smooth surface of his desk, obedient.

She felt him come up behind her, and she tilted her head so she could watch them in the mirror. Hunter’s large body was positioned behind hers, and he pulled her thighs apart, stroking his fingers over her slick p**sy, as if seeking her entrance. She cried out at the touch.

Then, Hunter’s c*ck was at her entrance and he thrust, hard. Gretchen’s legs were pinned against the desk, her br**sts pressed against the wood. He drove into her again, and the motion was so hard that the entire desk shook. She cried out his name again. Each thrust was rough with need, and he slammed into her at just the right angle that she could have sworn he was brushing against her G-spot. “Hunter,” she cried. “Oh, God, keep doing that!”

His hand anchored on her shoulder, the other on her hip, and then he was slamming into her over and over again, his thrusts wild and undisciplined. She was being taken by a man out of control.

It was glorious. She’d never been f**ked so hard.

Every time he pounded into her an involuntary groan of pleasure escaped her throat. She was so close and he hadn’t even touched her clit. “Oh, God, Hunter, keep f**king me.”

“So . . . damn . . . naughty,” he told her between rough thrusts. “You’re such a f**king tease, Gretchen.”

“I am,” she moaned. “I like teasing you. You like it, too.”

He smacked her buttock in a light spank, and the crisp bite of pain mixed with pleasure was so startling that she sucked in a deep breath, her body tensing in surprise. She glanced up in the mirror and he seemed almost as surprised as her by his actions.

His hand quickly rubbed her buttock, as if soothing the smack away, and she lifted her h*ps again. “Need you, Hunter.”

He obeyed. With his next thrust, she began to come, a soft, weak cry of protest escaping her throat. So fast. She hadn’t wanted to come so fast. Ah, God, it was so incredibly good, though. Her nails dug into the wood of the table as he continued to pound into her and the orgasm wasn’t stopping. He was hitting her so hard and so rough that she just kept coming and coming, her p**sy spasming around him and it felt so incredible. She called his name over and over again. “Hunter! Hunter! Hunter!”