Loving the Secret Billionaire (Love at Last #1)(22)

“Hm?” His arm circled my back, pulling me in so that our warm skin touched everywhere.

“The other night and this, tonight—without even doing it yet—is the best sex I’ve ever had. Ever. You don’t… We could do it on our heads and it would blow my mind.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No.” My cheeks hurt from smiling and I had to kiss him, right there, as hard as I could. I had to show him with my mouth what he couldn’t see—that tears had sprung to my eyes. That the feelings he created in me were too big for my body. “How about…” I slid my leg over his thigh and shifted closer, reached between us and reveled in his reaction to my touch on his cock. I got as close as I could, fitted him to me, and whispered, “You ready?”

“Yeah. Jesus, yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll just… We can do it here. Like this.” I removed my hand and shifted my hips forward and then—I couldn’t help it—I watched his face as I took him into my body. His eyes were closed, and it was the first time I’d seen him like that, utter concentration written sharply on his features. His cheeks were pink, the skin appearing stretched over the bones—they looked wider, harder, his brows darker. All of him seemed like more than he’d been before.

The first inch or two stretched me in a sweet, slow penetration that I would never forget. Finally, once he was seated as far as he could be at this angle, I put my hands on his ass and held him there, squeezed him, so wonderfully aware of his body in mine.

“I gotta move,” he finally said.

“Do it.”

He shifted his hips back and pressed them forward again, back and forward, the rhythm steady and effective. I felt a tickle of something like an orgasm brewing, but we’d never get there like this.

“Goddamn, Veronica. I gotta pound you.” He tweaked my nipple and picked up the pace.

“Yeah.” I wanted that, too, though I wasn’t sure how it would feel with that big, huge cock. But I wanted it. “Do it.”

His muscles flexed, and with a single roll, he was over me, hands framing my shoulders and, there, oh, there, everything changed. He pumped into me, hard. So hard it should have hurt, but it was perfection. The tension and friction and pleasure built—and I could see it on his face. His expression—so close to pain—had me mesmerized.

“I wanna…”

“What, Zach?”

“I wanna fuck you harder. Really hard.”

Those words made my body tighten convulsively around him. His voice was rough when he asked, “You like that? You want it harder?”

“Yeah. Do it.” I egged him on, my hands grabbing his ass with a slap.

“Hell,” he muttered into my neck. “I won’t last like this.”

“Don’t. Just do it. Hard. I love it, Zach.”

He leaned back a bit, and I let my eyes go down to where he entered me. “Looks amazing.”

He slowed, just a little, like he hungered for whatever I’d tell him. “Yeah?”

“You, like this. Fucking me. God, I want to describe it for you.”

“Maybe next time.” He smiled and picked up the pace.

“Here, give me your hand.” He slowed his movements, almost to a stop and put his weight on one arm. I grasped his hand and brought it to that place, so he could feel us.

He growled as his fingers tightened around his cock and then moved to find my clit, more surely than any partner I’d ever had.

My voice joined his, our chorus hot and rough and animal. I wouldn’t last if his fingers kept circling like that, but the way his breath came told me he was just as close. And then, so suddenly that it shocked even me, it was there.

Every part of me tensed, my eyes slammed shut, my mind spun high on the crest of climax, suspended as the orgasm passed through my body, my fingers and toes fizzing with almost electric aftershocks.

I couldn’t let him go. I didn’t want to. I held on with my hands and thighs and pussy, wringing every last jolt of pleasure from my body.

It wasn’t until the last tremor had passed that I realized I’d have to start breathing again, or pass out. Suddenly too sensitive, I put my hand on his to still him.

“Oh, my God,” I finally managed.

“Good?”

“I can’t even describe it.”

“Good.” He sounded smug, and I liked that. I wanted that smugness for myself.

“Keep going,” I told him, urging his hips toward mine. “Come on. I want you to get there, too.”

He was slower to start up again, but after a bit, his hips took over. He thrust a few times, then slowed for one or two, then sped back up to that relentless pounding. I wanted it like this, I wanted it fast and hard as hell. I could tell, after a bit, that he was almost there. It was the way he stopped making noise, dipped his head to bite my shoulder and slammed into me, out of control and messy and so damned perfect. A couple dozen times and he was done, pressing into me hard and deep—silent until it was over and then still, his weight heavy on me. Heavy and warm and everything I wanted.

“You okay?” I finally whispered.

He shook with what I hoped was a laugh. “Jesus. Yeah. Better than okay.” He turned to take my mouth in a possessive, happy kiss. “Is it weird to say I love you?”