Billionaires Dollar Series

I hold my breath as his fingers move further down and then he’s there, touching me, and my entire body shivers at the intimate touch.

The pressure and the oh-so-amazing circling of his fingers are too much for me to watch. I close my eyes and lean my head against his shoulder, losing myself to the sensations. His voice is a hoarse growl in my ear.

“Do you know how much I wanted to do this during that fucking poker game? A thin piece of fabric was the only thing separating me from this.”

And then he’s delving deeper, parting and stroking and one long finger sinks into me with ease. The simple movement steals my breath away.

Lips on my neck, fingers inside me, his left hand on my breast. I’m caught between currents and do my best to hold on, but Nick won’t let me. Why was I fighting against his skill earlier, against his experience? It seems futile now.

Nick in control is a glorious thing.

He turns me around, his left arm locking around my bare waist like a steel band. I’m held against his body, no way out, no mercy.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against my skin, his fingers speeding up, circling faster.

Perhaps a stronger woman than me could resist, but I can’t, not with so many sensations at once. He presses his lips to that spot right where my neck meets my shoulder and I breathe in the scent of him, of man and leather and musk and I’m hovering right on the edge.

“Let go,” he orders me, and my traitorous body does. His hand slaps down between my legs and the sting against my arousal sends me over the edge. I tumble and fall into pleasure. It’s so effortless that even in the midst of my orgasm a small part of my mind recognizes this for the unusual thing it is.

He holds me as I shatter and piece myself back together, big hands still moving over my body, on my breasts, my waist, my thighs. That’s when I feel him against me-a hardness against my back. I roll my hips against it and Nick groans in response.

Can we, here? Now?

If my body was the one calling the shots, he’d already be buried inside me. I’m aching for him. I twist in his arms and he lets me, finding his lips with my own.

Our movements quicken. His shirt is easily pushed off and then his body is finally mine to touch. The warm skin, the rippling of strong muscles under skin, the impossibly wide shoulders.

All mine.

And maybe I tell him that because he smiles, the same sardonic grin as always, and tugs at my skirt. “This damn thing won’t come off,” he groans. “I’ll be yours as soon as it’s off.”

I undo the hidden zipper at the same time as I nod to his pants. “And those.”

Watching one another, we strip off until we’re in nothing but our underwear. I reach out, wanting to uncover him, to see the bulge unclothed, but his hands stop me again. They smooth over my hips and grab hold of the thin fabric of my underwear.

“There’s no going back from this, Blair.”

I roll my eyes at him. “How many times are you going to warn me tonight, Nick? Are you getting cold feet?”

He snorts. “Nothing about me is cold right now.”

I shake out my hair and smile at the way his eyes catch the movement. Shimmying my hips in his grasp, I make my decision. “Take them off.”

He pulls my panties down my legs and it’s like a lever has been pulled, or a dam broken, because there is not the least bit of hesitation left in him. His movements are businesslike, strong, gripping.

“Brace your hands against the wall.”

I do what he says and for a moment the backs of my thighs are cold until he’s there, thighs against mine, hands smoothing over my bare skin.

“Fuck,” he says, and the curse strengthens me. I arch my back and push against him, hearing him swear again. He gives my cheek a light slap and then he’s running something along my skin, something hot and hard and I want to turn around to see but he’s gripping me tightly.

There’s power in this-in giving myself to his power. Surrendering to the attraction between us. How long had I wanted to see him like this? Unchained and unfettered, the real Nick below the cool facade.

Anticipation and fear chase one another through my body, reacting to his teasing, to the slow stroke of him, waiting for the delicious sensation of his entry.

And then he’s there. He pushes into me slowly, an inch at a time, his hands on my hips. He’s big, bigger than I’m used to, and I breathe through the overwhelming sensations.

He pauses. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes, yes…” I take a deep breath and relax into the feeling. I reach back, a hand on his hip, wanting to pull him all the way in. He gives it to me, burying himself to the hilt with a groan.

His hands brace on either side of me as he stills. “Fucking hell,” he mutters.

I feel the same. The fit is too snug, it’s too much, but I think I’d die if he pulled out and left me.

He doesn’t. He starts to move instead and I do my best to hold on, closing my eyes at the delicious invasion. The thrusts are teasing. Slow, deep, controlled. One of his hands slip from its grip on my hip to settle between my legs. His fingers circle in tune to his movements.

I fist my hand blindly in one of the coats on the rack and bite my lip again to keep from crying out.

“God,” he groans. “You’re so tight.”

It’s undeniably true, at least compared to the sheer size of him. I push my hips back to meet his thrusts. The sweet, now-fading pain makes my pleasure build faster, reignited by his hands.

So when I turn my head back to see him, his eyes wild and burning, his hands gripping my hips, the words fall easily from my lips. “Don’t hold back.”

And let it never be said that Nick didn’t obey, not this time. His thrusts speed up. His hands grip until my skin stings, and still, I want him to grip me harder. My hands claw for support against the wall.

His body covers mine completely. The heavy, deep breathing from him echoes my own, driving on my pleasure. This is what I want from him-to see him come apart, to see him undone, for him to lose himself in me.

Just like I’ve been lost in him so many times.

He gives me that. He pumps fast and strong, and I feel powerful and used, and somehow the two strengthen one another rather than detract. His need is palpable and I’m the only thing that can give him relief, our bodies fitting together perfectly.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

It doesn’t take long for either of us. The years of irritation and wanting and banter have become a living thing, a fuel to our fire, layering this encounter with more meaning than I’d expected.

Nick pulls me up against his body as his hips work erratically into me. The feeling of him pulsing inside pushes me over the edge. It’s a blaze of glory and sweat and connection, our bodies plastered together, my back to his front.

My heart is still pounding as we come apart. His arms are around me, turning me around, pulling me into an embrace. “You okay?”

I nod against the warmth of his shoulder. “Are you?”

A low, dark laugh. “I doubt I’ve ever been more okay.”

Something giddy and inappropriate dances in my chest. It feels like elation… or perhaps happiness. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“You can’t? I can’t believe we waited so long.” Nick runs a hand over my hair in a gesture that’s more sweet than sensual. This is a side of him I’ve never seen. More disarmed, and less… wary.

“So is this why you came to a Fashion Week event?” I say. “Were you even invited?”