Breaking the Billionaire's Rules(48)

“Stay like that,” he rumbles, undoing his bow tie in the dim light. “I’m sorry I wrecked your undergarment, but you waiting for me like this…so hot.”

“In other words, you’re not sorry at all.”

“Not sorry. I’m gonna take you just like that.” He whips off his bow tie and then he’s undoing his buttons. “You are so hot, it blows my mind.” He rips the rest of his shirt open, not bothering with the buttons, then skips to his pants.

“Cheating. One demerit.”

A wicked light shines in his eyes as he yanks off his belt. His pants are off and his cock juts upward, so thick and hard, it’s nearly against his belly. I’ve never seen his cock, but somehow, it’s so him. He has a condom, tearing it open.

“No, no, no.” I undo my sex-ready position and stand.

“Hey.”

I go to him. “Let me.” I want to be in on this with him. I kneel in front of him, wrapping my hand around him, marveling at his cock.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I love the shape of you,” I whisper, “how you’re slightly wider than round.” I kiss him and he groans. “I love this vein here.” I trail the side of him with my fingers.

“Mia,” he gasps. “I’m not an art exhibit.”

No, he’s something better. He’s undiscovered territory, wild and exotic, yet achingly familiar. So perfectly him.

I lick the underside, and it jumps. I do it again, reveling in the salty, musky maleness of him, and then I press my cheek to it.

“Mia.” His voice sounds strained.

I put him in my mouth, feeling the whole shape of him with my tongue and lips. I wrap my hand around his thick root and explore him. I don’t want to stop.

With other guys, I try to stage manage. Maybe set the scene with flower petals and candles. Or juice things up with breathless oohs and aahs, but Max and I are beyond that. We’ve been through a war together.

I pull him from my mouth and kiss just his tip.

Suddenly he’s out of my hand. He kneels in front of me. “You’re too slow,” he whispers.

“You’re too perfect,” I whisper.

“You’re too hot,” he says, watching my eyes.

A condom wrapper crinkles at the edge of my awareness.

My heart pounds. We’re kneeling face-to-face in this empty studio space in the middle of the city, me and my enemy who I know like the back of my hand, and all the walls are coming down.

“You’re too terrifying,” I finally say.

The light flooding in the windows is a faint dot of white in each of his eyes. “So are you,” he says.

I kiss him. I press into him because I want my chest against his, because my heart feels raw, like there’s a hole there that can only be plugged by his chest.

“Mia,” he rumbles into the kiss. He stands, pulling me up with him, never once breaking the kiss. I fling my legs around him and kiss him. He holds me aloft, kneading my partly-silk-clad butt cheeks.

“You’re gonna make me come again.”

“That’s the plan.” He whirls me around and we cross some expanse of floor—three feet or thirty feet, I have no idea. He sets me on some sort of surface.

My head lolls back.

“Look at me,” he rumbles.

I look at him as he puts himself at my entrance, sliding his condom-clad cock around, picking up juice. “Your enemy of yore is gonna fuck you now and it’s gonna be unbelievable.”

“Please,” I beg.

He pushes a little ways in, stretching me. “God, it already is unbelievable.”

I grab handfuls of his shirt, holding him, rocking with him.

His gaze falls to my lips. He leans in, nips my lower lip, just softly.

I suck in a shaky little breath, trying to be quiet about it. I don’t want him to know how he shatters me. How much power he has over me. How much I want this.

“I love when you do that,” he says.

“What, when I breathe?” I joke. “You need to get out more.”

“I love when I touch you, and you try to act like it’s nothing.”

“Are you calling me a bad actress?”

“You’re a great actress—you know you are.” He pushes in deeper, rocking gently, in and out. “But when you secretly melt like that, you have no idea how sexy it is. It’s a gift,” he whispers. “Something only for me.”

My eyes drift closed as he moves deeper, filling me fully. The shock of him so thick inside me makes me shudder with pleasure.

He rocks into me again, breath erratic. He’s fucking me. Owning me. It’s beyond anything.

My hands are all over his chest, hungrily smoothing over hot skin and cool shirt. I push his shirt off him. I kiss his sweaty chest, learning the shape of his shoulders with my palms.

I’m the queen of the cats, plundering the catnip storeroom.

“Max—”

“What, baby? Anything.” He does me slowly, grinding against my pussy. “Anything.” He says the word in time with the roll of his hips. “Anything. Anything.”

“Like that,” I say.

He replies with nonsense into my ear. The music of his voice is familiar, but this is a new key.

I can feel him quickening, lost in a primal rhythm, old as the hills. “Anything.”