The Billionaire's Christmas Bride (Big Bad Billionaires #3) - L. Steele Page 0,63
but the way he maneuvers my body… Well… My knees turn to jelly. Bloody hell, this guy is machismo personified, and I am putty in his hands. And now—he whips out a pair of kitchen scissors. Then steps back, holds up my leg and proceeds to cut the fabric up one side.
What the—?
He does the same for the fabric on my other leg and it falls away, then cuts my blouse at each shoulder.
"Weston—"
He shakes his head.
"You can trust me," his lips quirk as he repeats my words back at me.
Can I though?
I frown.
He locks his gaze with mine, then raises the scissors. He glances down, then I feel the give of my bra straps. My breasts spring free. His nostrils flare. He bends, licks a nipple, before sucking on it.
Goosebumps flare on my skin.
"So fucking sweet, you’re one melting mass of chocolate, Buttercup."
Jeez, he makes me sound like a dessert…which is flattering, I suppose.
He pulls back, I hear the snap of the blades cutting through the fabric of my blouse. The garment falls off. Air hits my skin, goosebumps pop along my forearms, and my nipples harden.
He straightens, places the tip of the scissors to the center of my chest, without cutting the skin. I shiver. He drags the blade up over the mound of one breasts, circles the nipple, which instantly pebbles further. Down to my belly button. I swallow. He glances down and his breathing grows labored, "Fuck me," he growls. "I can’t hold out any longer."
He tosses the scissors aside, reaches for his zipper and lowers it. His cock springs forward—big, throbbing. I’ve seen it before…but somehow, he seems bigger. More aroused. The swollen tip is almost purple with need, and drops of precum bead the slit. Saliva pools in my mouth; my chest rises and falls.
I reach for him, but he grabs my wrist. "If you touch me, I won’t last," he growls.
I frown, implore him with my eyes.
His gaze intensifies, then his lips quirk. "Later," he promises. "For now, I am going to take your cunt." He swoops down, grabs my thighs under my knees, pulls my legs up and apart so they’re at my ears and I fall back to my elbows. He glares down directly at my sex.
OMFG! My head spins. I am open and displayed for him, my arousal so strong I can smell myself. Is that gross? His nostrils flare… Uh, guess he can scent me too?
"Look at yourself." His grip tightens, "You’re so wet, so ready. You want me, Princess?"
Gah, is that even a question? "I…" I open my mouth and his lips curl.
Trick question, huh? I pout again, thrust my pelvis up and against his hold.
His smile widens. "Hold yourself open for me," he commands.
I blink. He can’t be serious.
"Do it," he snaps.
I don’t even realize I’ve rushed to obey him until I feel my fingers brush my cunt. Damn him, is there anything this man can’t get me to do? I pry open my pussy lips, and his gaze intensifies. "Fuck me," he mutters, "I am going to drink from you."
Yes. Yes.
"Scoop up your cum and offer it to me."
Wh-a-a-t? My vision narrows. Black spots dot my line of sight. My heart begins to pound so hard, I am sure it’s going to break out of my chest.
"Now."
His hard voice whips through my head, erasing every other thought. I am a vessel, an empty canvas which he’ll paint with his cum. No, what? Don’t think. Don’t react. Do what he asks. I slip one finger, then a second into my channel. My chest heaves. His throat moves as he swallows. He’s as affected by this connection… This, whatever it is that he’s doing to me, is arousing him just as much. I curl my fingers inside of myself and a moan rises up. It’s nowhere close to what I need, but the way he watches me... How he follows my movements with his heavy-lidded gaze…is as erotic as looking on while he fucks me… Okay, I lie… Not the same… But it is hot nevertheless. Know what I mean? I hold up my glistening fingers, and he closes his mouth around my digits, drags his tongue over the skin. My sex clenches and more moisture pools in my core.
"How the hell do you taste so sweet?" He licks his lips, "Of chocolate and the most tempting honey."
"You hate chocolate," I mutter.
"That's true." He tilts his head, "But, it tastes different on you."