Devoured--A Sexy Billionaire Romance

by Cathryn Fox

  “Does the highlight reel have anything to do with me?” I slide my arms around his neck and take pleasure in his strength and sureness. The man is a powerhouse, and while I feel small in his arms, I also feel cherished.

  “It has everything to do with you. Don’t you realize you’re the star of the show?” He runs his thumb over my bottom lip, and warm sensations grip me. “This mouth. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His nostrils flare and my nipples tighten with arousal. “I’m going to destroy it.” I suck in a breath, his filthy words derailing my ability to think. He inches closer, his lips a breath away from mine, and I’m about to open for him, welcome his ravishing tongue inside, when my nose tingles.

  “What...what if I’m getting a cold?”

  His eyes are glazed, completely enraptured with my mouth, a hungry wolf about to feast on a lamb, when he says, “I thought you said it was just allergies.”

  “Can we take a chance?” I rake my hand through his hair and make a mess of it. The mussed-up look works for him. Then again, any look works for him. “I don’t want you to get sick.” Why the hell am I trying to talk him out of this when I want him to strip me bare and make a complete and utter mess of me?

  He laughs, but it’s more like a tortured growl and my body burns in response. “You think a cold is going to keep me from claiming this sweet mouth?” Oh God, I shouldn’t like how he wants to claim me. I shouldn’t like it at all. But I do.

  He presses his body against mine, and his cock is so hard, I’m pretty sure the entire marine corps couldn’t stop him from touching me. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

  Just shut up already, Peyton.

  “Yeah, I know. You’re sweet like that.” His demeanor changes, and in the blink of an eye the wild animal vanishes, the hunger receding, giving way to a soft smile as he pulls me from the door. “Come on,” he says, the tenderness in his tone like a gentle caress over my skin, and I work to ignore the strange possessive tug on my emotions.

  This is just sex, Peyton.

  “Where?”

  He leads me into the kitchen, and on the counter I see every kind of allergy medication known to mankind. “What did you do?”

  He gives a casual shrug, like it’s nothing, but it’s not nothing to me. “I didn’t know what kind you took.”

  I pick up box after box after box. “You have enough here to obliterate allergies from mankind.”

  “Just need to obliterate them from you,” he says.

  My heart thumps, my insides going to mush.

  It’s just sex, Peyton.

  Why then, when he does stuff like this, does it feel like so much more?

  “Roman,” I say. I’m so touched by his thoughtfulness, it’s hard to push the words out.

  “I told you I was committed, Peyton. You’re going to get this job and you’re not going to be taken out by allergies.”

  I fight a stupid tear and my chaotic emotions scramble in all directions, every sentiment I’ve locked up over the years trying to crawl over the jagged-edged wall I erected early on in life. But there are too many moving parts, racing at a speed I’m not accustomed to, scattering before I can lasso them back in. I swallow, a silly attempt to rein them all in, but I can’t let him see how much his random act of kindness has touched me or have him thinking I’m going to fall for him because of one thoughtful gesture.

  Oh, but it’s been more than one, Peyton.

  “It’s just...”

  He puts his hand around my neck and spreads his fingers, lust once again returning to his eyes. “Maybe I had ulterior motives,” he says, bringing this back to what’s really between us—sex—and I’m grateful for that. No need to mistake the physical for the emotional. A person can attend to your basic needs—shelter, food, water...allergy medication—but that doesn’t mean they care deeply about you. A lesson learned at a young age taught me that, and I’m not about to forget it now. I can’t.

  “Ulterior motives, huh?” I pop a pill from a bubble pack as he pours me a glass of water.

  “Maybe I need you healthy so we can experiment more, see what else you hate—or what you like.” I grin. This morning I put all my best efforts forth to seduce this man, but now that we’ve broken the seal—or rather removed our clothes and gone at each other like wild animals during mating season—this man is all in. He hands me the glass and I take the pill. I swipe my tongue over my lip, and much as I expected, a small moan escapes his throat.

  “What was that you said about filling your empty mouth?” I ask, and arch a brow.

  His grin is crooked. “I believe that is what you said.”

  I feign innocence and back up toward the stairs. “Me? I can’t believe you would accuse me of saying something like that, Roman.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he growls when I reach the stairs.

  “I don’t think I should be around anyone who would accuse me of saying something so...dirty.”

  “Get back here, Peyton.”

  I rush up the steps and his footsteps pound on the kitchen floor.

  I glance over my shoulder. “Not until you tell the truth.”

  “Peyton,” he says, his warning voice churning with passion.

  “Admit it was you who said it.”

  “Calling me a liar, are you?” he grumbles, his deep, thick voice curling through me and teasing the needy little cleft aching for his attention.

  “If the name fits.”

  As his long legs carry him up the stairs fast, and he begins to close the gap, I bypass the bedrooms and go straight for the rooftop. He’s hot on my heels and I can’t stop laughing when I reach the top step, kicking my shoes off and tearing at my dress the whole way. I’m in nothing but my bra and panties when I reach the pool, and without bothering to remove them I dive in.

  I swim to the shallow end, and when I surface, Roman is right there, his clothes soaked, and a bubble of joy wells up inside me. I can’t remember the last time I had fun like this, or laughed this hard. Honestly, for the first time, I feel like the weight of the world isn’t on my shoulders and I can just be...me. I’m guessing it’s because we both know where the other stands.

  Where exactly is it you stand, Peyton?

  I shut down that inner voice—I cannot fall for him—as his arms slide around my waist. In a move that is less than gentle, he anchors me to his solid body, and I register every delicious detail of his hardness.

  “Want to know what fits?” he asks, the lust in his eyes heating the surrounding water and pushing the chill from my bones until I’m almost warm.

  “What?” I ask, breathless. He puts one hand between my legs and pushes my panties to the side. A thick finger presses inside me, and my breath hitches. God, that feels good.

  “My cock, right here. That’s what fits.” His mouth finds mine for a mind-numbing kiss and I quake as he begins to finger me. His thumb slides up, stroking my cleft, increasing the sensations, and I quiver at the sweet agony.

  He tears his mouth from mine and puts it to my ear. “Want to know something else?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t take too kindly to being called a liar.” His hands slide down my back and he splays his fingers over my ass. He kneads my flesh, his hands full of ownership as he tugs, to widen my cheeks, and a cold rush of water stimulates all my sensitive nerve endings.

  “Say it again, and I’ll own this ass,” he growls.

  “Oh God, yes,” I cry out without thinking, and his soft chuckle curls around me.

  “Oh, you like that, do you?”

  “I...don’t know,” I say. “My guess is I’d hate it.”

  His growl of laughter vibrates in the air, ripples through the water, and I move my hips, try to work his finger around inside me.

  “Yeah, I can tell how much you’d hate it.” He slowly pushes his finger in deepe
r. “Maybe I’ll have to find another way to punish you.” He bites his bottom lip, his shoulder muscles flexing beneath my fingers, and my sex clenches, desperate for him to take the ache away. “Maybe I’ll put you on the side of the pool, spread you wide, shove my fingers inside you and give you a good hard licking.”

  I close my eyes as the sensations and image pull me under, and I don’t dare say a word for fear he’ll change his mind. As I revel in all the things he’s threatening to do to me, a strong palm cups my face.

  “Look at me, Peyton,” he says, and my lids lift. The intensity in his eyes is as frightening as it is exciting. His hand leaves my cheek, a slow exploration downward, his fingers sliding between my breasts, his hot gaze following behind. A second later my bra is gone, and his look is ravenous as he lifts me, taking one nipple between his teeth. His lips close over my bud, hungry, demanding, and I arch into him, loving this feral side that takes without asking. I’ve never wanted to open myself, give myself up like this before. But it’s a game we’re playing and I can’t forget it.

  The water moves around me, and that’s when I realize he’s walking me to the edge, his deep growl rumbling through my body. He settles my bottom on the stone decking. Strong fingers grip my thighs and spread my legs. Need zings through my body and my throat instantly dries.

  His mouth finds mine for a ravenous kiss and my entire body heats, a small moan catching in my throat. He pushes himself against my leg, and with my panties pushed to the side, he works magic with his fingers and I grow impossibly slicker. I thrust my pelvis, demanding more.

  “Have you thought about me today? Thought about all the things I was going to do to you?”

  “Uh-huh,” I say as he pushes a finger into me, and pulls it out, his concentration deep, like he’s working out some mathematical computation.

  “Yes. Have you been thinking of me?” I ask in return. He slides his finger into his mouth, and for whatever reason watching him lick my slick arousal from his finger is like a goddamn aphrodisiac. Pressure builds inside me, and I tremble and pant.

  “Roman,” I murmur, my gaze focused on his mouth.

  He pulls his finger from his mouth and pins me with a glare, his hard body holding me in place, trapping me beneath him. “What, you want a taste?” He leans into me, his soft lips on mine, but his tongue, oh there’s nothing soft about that as it roughly invades my mouth, wars with my own tongue, like a king about to conquer an army and claim the bounty.

  I’m the bounty.

  His mouth slides from mine, stopping to tease my nipple between his teeth in his quest for the treasure between my legs. I’ve never felt like it was a prized possession, something to be worshipped, until this morning. He growls around a hard nub, tugs at it, and pain and pleasure tangle for dominance.

  I lean back on my arms, brace myself as he feasts on me. My nipple pops from his mouth, and he licks a path downward until he finds what he’s looking for. His growl of pleasure wraps around me, and my skin tightens as the late-day sun shines on my body, sizzling the water on my exposed flesh, but I can’t think about that. No, I can’t think about anything other than his tongue and the lashes he’s giving my clit, a brutal punishment so intense it ignites every nerve ending and pulls a cry from my throat.

  “My God, Roman,” I say, impatience in my voice as I lift, bucking against his face as his tongue swirls through my slick heat doing delicious things to me.

  He growls and holds my hips, better positioning me as he feasts, his mouth ravishing my pussy, hungry little laps that drive me insane. His fingers tease, delve deep, slick in and out of my channel, but then he changes tactics and scrapes his teeth over my engorged cleft. Small tremors grip me as he spears deeper inside me, pounds into my flesh, hot, dirty plunges that possess my body, and tease the building pressure.

  I sit up and grip his hair to hold on. My senses explode, my body jerking in reaction to the intense pleasure. The man is wrecking me, and my struggle to hang on splinters, breaking me in two. Air leaves my lungs, and my words are nothing but a pleading whimper when I say, “I’m going to come.” Oh God, am I ever going to come. So hard, I’m going to shatter in the most profound ways, ways there are no coming back from.

  I throw my head back and my muscles convulse around him, shock waves rocketing through me as he nudges me over the edge until I’m flying. Flying and falling, living and dying all wrapped into one as the man frees my body in a way no one ever has before, in a way I’ve never been able to achieve solo.

  I’m panting by the time he stops, but dark eyes meet mine, and giving me no reprieve, he tears my panties from my hips and pulls me back into the water. With my legs around him he backs up until he’s sitting on the steps, water lapping at his ankles.

  He tugs his pants down, just enough to free his cock, and pulls me toward him. “Ride my cock, Peyton,” he demands. I widen my legs to straddle him and he growls as I reposition.

  His crown presses against my opening, and delirious with need, he grips me and tugs me firmly down. I gasp as he fills me, and lean forward and lay my forehead on his shoulder, trying to catch my breath.

  “I want you to ride me,” he growls into my ear. “I want to watch myself slide in and out of you.”

  I savor the dirty, delicious way he wants me, the way he couldn’t even get his pants off before he had me on top of him.

  “Look at what you’re doing to me,” he demands, his eyes dark and feral as I tear my gaze away and look between our bodies. I lift, and his erection is wet and slick as he slides out of me.

  “So hot,” I say, my muscles rippling.

  “Jesus, I feel you.” His body tenses as my thigh muscles burn. He grips my hips and manipulates my body to take the strain from my legs. He’s so damn strong he lifts me easily and pulls down until his steely length fills every inch of me. “Do you hate how hard you make me?” he hisses through clenched teeth.

  “I hate it,” I cry out. “I hate your cock. Hate the way you fill me up. Hate when I shatter around you.”

  “Keep riding me, Peyton.” My nails dig into his shoulder, but he doesn’t so much as wince. “I want you to make me come.”

  Oh God, it’s crazy how much I love it when he talks dirty. I let him move me, twist me to the way he needs me, and he lifts his hips, powering into me. My body flushes hot, and I reach between us to stroke my clit.

  “Yeah, just like that.” His nostrils flare, his lips part, and he thickens even more inside me. I’m so damn wet, his rapid thrusting picking up the pace until the friction is unbearable, control a thing of the past.

  I briefly close my eyes, fearing I’m losing my damn grip on reality as this man drives into me, his fingers biting into my hips. Tomorrow I’ll have little bruises and the thought thrills me. He jerks me up, then pulls me down again, so goddamn hard, he hits my cervix, and draws another full-body release out of me.

  “Roman,” I cry out, and practically collapse on top of him. My body shakes, a hard quiver, so powerful and intense, it leaves me trembling, on the brink of tears. Soothing hands drift up from my hips to wrap around me.

  “I got you,” he says, and my heart squeezes at the tenderness in his voice. I move my body as he cradles me, rotate my hips around his thick cock, wanting more, wanting everything as a new, almost frightening kind of hunger takes hold. “Take what you need, Peyton,” he says, like he can see into my soul, understand I’m still that small frightened girl who asked for nothing. My throat squeezes tight, my hair falling forward as I lean into him. “Take everything you need,” he says, his voice rusty and harsh, thick with an emotion I can’t identify.

  I rock against him, knowing I’ll never truly have what I need, not from him or any other man. My breasts rub against his face, and I lift, only to slowly sink back down. His hands move to my face and he cups my cheeks, bringing my mouth to his. He groans into my mouth, and I swallow his moans as he lets go, giving in to
the need gripping his body. I struggle to breathe with each hard pulse inside me.

  “I feel you,” I murmur, the pleasure so intense as his release sears my insides and stimulates all my nerve endings, and I come again. “Oh my God, Roman,” I breathe into his mouth.

  “I know, Peyton, I know,” he moans, and peppers kisses to my nose and cheeks and chin. “Jesus, I know,” he says. I inch back to take in the darkness in his eyes, the need he’s desperately trying to hide. Or maybe I’m imagining it. I’ve wanted for so long to be wanted and needed, maybe my mind is playing tricks on me and the sex is messing with my perception of reality. He cups the back of my head and brings my face to his shoulder. His hand strokes down my hair, his touch so soft and gentle, my stupid heart misses a beat. Once again, I let my mind wander, live in a fairy-tale world where Roman and I could be more. Is that what I want? I bask in it for a second, until his worried voice breaks the spell.

  “Shit, we just made a big mistake.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Roman

  I LIFT HER from my lap, and we both collapse on the warm decking. The warm late-day sun disappears behind a heavy cloud, darkening the rooftop—not to mention my mood. Talk about a colossal mistake. What the hell is wrong with me? What was I thinking? Oh, maybe I wasn’t thinking—not with the head on my shoulders—because I simply couldn’t get inside this sweet girl fast enough, but goddammit she deserves better from me.

  “Roman?” Peyton’s eyes are wide when they search mine, seeking answers, and the fear I see there is like a punch to the gut. Christ, I’m not even sure she’s breathing.

  “I didn’t—” I begin, but stop when the worry in her eyes deepens, triggering a pang of unease deep inside me. I push the hair from her face. Shit, what is going through her mind? “I didn’t use a condom,” I tell her. “I completely forgot, and I’m so damn sorry.”