Paris With The Billionaire: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  Forever.

  “No,” I say quickly. “Thank you for sharing that, Forrest. It means a lot.”

  “It’s not exactly the sort of thing you bring up on a first date,” he smirks.

  I flinch at the word date, but he’s not looking at me anymore.

  He stares down at his food as he cuts it, leaving me to wonder if I imagined it if I wished the word date into existence.

  “This food is really delicious,” I murmur.

  “Yeah,” he agrees.

  I study him for a few more moments, wondering what’s changed. It’s like he’s suddenly put up a wall around himself.

  Does he feel self-conscious because he talked to me about his family, about his perspective on life?

  I want to tell him he shouldn’t be.

  I want to scream, You silly man. We’re going to be together forever. Of course, I need to know every little thing about you.

  But that would make me insane.

  He’s probably annoyed that he shared something so intimate with a complete stranger, a dorky wannabe writer who could never satisfy his needs.

  I need to stop torturing myself.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Forrest

  I lie in one of the spare bedrooms – I insisted that Fiona take the master – and stare up at the ceiling. I’ve got the curtains and the window open, causing the light to dance across the chandelier and the ceiling decorations.

  I didn’t plan on sharing all that stuff about the trailer park with Fiona.

  It came out before I could give it any thought before I could even decide the right way to frame it.

  In the business world, I never allow myself to slip up like that.

  My tactician’s mind is constantly whirring, searching for fresh patterns of attack and ways to defend against counterattacks.

  Fiona did something to me, melted my defenses in a way nobody ever has before.

  I glance at the clock, the hands just about visible in the low light.

  It’s two o’clock in the morning, and sleep feels a very long way off.

  I can’t stop thinking about the way her eyes lit up when we were speaking about her joy for writing, the cuteness of her smile when we bantered, the light budding up inside of her until I could feel the heat of her.

  My balls ache when I remember the way her breasts heaved when she laughed, the round, full glory of them begging to be palmed.

  She’d make these little sighing noises, these ahhhs, and remembering that just makes me even more rock-solid.

  The base of my cock stiffens when I think about her tucked up in the four poster bed, the blankets tangled around those thick juicy thighs of hers. I imagine her sliding her hand down her body, pressing down on her sex, grinding the heel of her palm against her clit like the horny naïve thing she is.

  I should’ve fucked her on the balcony.

  I should’ve grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around, pushed her forward so that she was forced to bend over and stick that round spank-me ass out.

  Then I would’ve grabbed her thighs and pulled them apart, letting me see how wet she was through the fabric of her pants.

  I bet my little firecracker would have been soaked.

  I bet she’s drenched right now in her bed, rubbing her cute pink slit, waiting for me to sneak in there and show her how sexy she really is.

  Goddamn, my cock is pulsing. It’s flooding with tension and I don’t know if I can take it anymore.

  My tip feels like it’s being electrified with need, my seed writing and urging its way higher and higher up my shaft.

  I bite down, clenching my teeth so hard I’m surprised they don’t shatter.

  I need to fuck this girl.

  I’ll die if I don’t.

  I need to taste her.

  She’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. The cutest wide eyes and innocent kissable lips. Her juicy looking tits and that big full ass, make my mouth water just thinking about it.

  I bet when she’s bent over and I’m fucking her – oh, fuck – my cock would disappear between those ass cheeks. I can see it so vividly, my massive throbbing dick smashing between those voluptuous cheeks.

  She’ll make those whimpering sounds the deeper I get, unsure if she can take the full length of me, pulsing against me with each thrust.

  I stand up, gripping the sheets in tight fists, panting out quick breaths into the quiet of the night.

  I need to see her, see how curvy her silhouette is in the low light, listen to how she whimpers and moans in her sleep.

  I walk across the room, making no sound at all, as quiet as a hunting animal. The marble floor is cool against my feet, the air pricking my bare chest and legs.

  My boxer briefs, the only item of clothing I’m wearing, can barely contain what my woman is doing to me.

  I pull the door open and stalk through the hotel suite, somehow resisting the urge to reach down and grab onto the thick meatiness of my manhood. My fingers twitch with the need for some kind of release.

  My seed roars at me from some deep primal place, Don’t you fucking dare waste me anywhere but her sweet fertile made-for-you hole.

  I walk to the end of the hallway and turn the corner, and then walk down another hallway and stop just outside her room.

  I press my ear against the door and listen closely, trying to hear if she’s awake.

  Part of me knows that this is wrong.

  I shouldn’t invade her privacy like this.

  But another part of me laughs at that assertion.

  She doesn’t have privacy where I’m concerned.

  I own her, own every goddamn part of her. She’s mine, right down to her soul.

  She just doesn’t know it yet.

  When I don’t hear anything, I quietly open her door and move across the room. My movements are fluid as I drift over to her bed, standing over her.

  I almost roar when I see her lying beneath me.

  She’s wearing pajama shorts that ride up her pussy and her ass, framing the neediness of her flesh.

  Her tank top is loose-fitting and, fuck, fuck …

  She’s not wearing a bra.

  She’s lying there and the tank top hardly covers her nipples, her pink fresh-looking nipples. She’s begging for it.

  My horny queen knows what she’s doing.

  I need to touch her, to taste her, to let her know how much she means to me.

  I lean down, placing my fist on her bed, bringing my face close to hers.

  She murmurs and her eyes blink open.

  She flinches and shifts away from me, but she doesn’t scream. She doesn’t look scared. Confusion cascades down her features and then she rubs her eyes, blinking as though I’m going to disappear.

  “What’s happening?” she moans, in that needy sleepy voice.

  “I’m going to suck your horny young nipples until they’re perky and hard,” I snarl. “And then I’m going to eat that juicy slit of yours, Fiona. That’s what happening.”

  This wasn’t part of the plan.

  I didn’t want to let my beast out this early, but something has broken inside of me. My restraint has crumbled to pieces and all I can think about is how red her cheeks are, how full of life, as though her body is trying to send me a message.

  “What?” she says, all breathy.

  “I didn’t stutter,” I growl, grabbing onto her thigh and almost roaring at the heat of her skin.

  She whimpers and bites her lip, her eyes getting even wider, even more, curious and excited.

  “Am I dreaming?” she whispers.

  “Do you want to wake up?” I counter, sliding my hand higher and higher up her thigh.

  “N-no,” she moans. “I don’t think so.”

  “Good.”

  I lean in and take her lips with mine. I kiss her hard, hungry to taste her. She stiffens for a moment and then the heat of our joining melts through her.

  She moans through our close-pressed lips, the moan getting more desp
erate as I inch up between her legs.

  I can feel her heat blazing before I touch her pussy, feel how badly she wants to be mine.

  She breaks off the kiss with a gasp, her eyelids fluttering with how on-the-edge she is.

  “Why?” she whispers.

  “Why what?” I snarl.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  I still my hand, tilting my head at her.

  “You want me to do this,” I tell her.

  “Yes, yes,” she moans. “But why do you want to do this?”

  I laugh savagely and then kill the noise when her lips twist into a frown.

  “I’m not laughing at you, you silly thing,” I tell her. “I don’t want to do this. I need to do this. I can’t sleep thinking about you in here, with these thick gorgeous legs and your creamy wet pussy. Now lie back and take your orgasm like a good girl.”

  “Can I …”

  She trails off, turning her gaze to the side.

  “What?” I snap.

  “I was just going to say, um, if it’s okay …”

  “What?” I snarl, when she trails off again, my shy little firecracker.

  “Can I kiss you again?” she whispers.

  I smirk. “Such a polite horny young thing, aren’t you?”

  I crush my lips against hers. She grabs onto my shoulders and digs her fingernails in, gasping as I kiss her hard, as our tongues find each other and swirl around in unstoppable lust.

  I grab her shorts and pull them down, violently, making our teeth click together in the suddenness of the movement.

  I lean back and stare at her as I cup her sex, feeling how insanely wet she is, her hole leaking a river of desire onto my hand.

  “You’re soaked,” I snarl.

  “Is that a—bad—thing?” she whimpers, as I grind my hand up and down her pussy, smearing her wetness from her hole across her lips and her clit.

  “Does it feel like a bad thing?” I snap.

  “No—no—it feels … Oh, God. Am I dreaming? Am I awake?”

  “Do you feel awake?” I growl, slipping my middle finger into the boiling wetness of her hole.

  She tries to answer.

  The beginnings of a yes turn into a breathy moan on her lips, as she tilts her head back and exposes her neck for me.

  I sink my finger inside of her, pushing right up to the knuckle, pinning her there so she shivers on the end of me.

  “Can you take another finger?” I snap.

  “I don’t know,” she whimpers.

  “Try,” I snarl, slipping my ring finger into her hole.

  She gasps and freezes for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut. But then her eyes open and a dreamy smile spreads across her lips at the same time.

  I shift my hand back and forth, pumping my fingertips inside of her, feeling how much wetter she gets with each moment.

  Her breasts shift as I move my hand faster and faster, the room filling with the wet fleshy sounds of her soaked sex.

  “Pull your tank top down,” I snap.

  “Like—this?” she sighs, clawing at her tank top and pulling, exposing her breasts.

  They’re so big, so juicy, so captivating.

  Luscious purple and green veins spiral across the landscape of her breasts, toward her nipples which are as thick as the rest of her.

  I lean down and take one of her tasty-looking nipples in my mouth as I swirl my fingers around and around inside of her.

  Her gasps take on a different quality, becoming strangled, as though she’s rushing closer and closer to her crescendo.

  Her nipple tastes like heaven, tangy with her sleepy sweat, the texture delicious between my lips. I press my tongue against it to make it even harder, and then move my tongue savagely around it.

  When I hear her gasping on the verge of an orgasm, I rear up, letting her go completely.

  I stare down at her and she gazes up at me, her lips quivering, tears of near release shimmering in her eyes.

  “You’re completely at my mercy here, aren’t you, firecracker?” I growl. “Look at you. You’ve never been touched like this before. You’ve never been owned like this before.”

  “Hmmm,” she moans, shaking her head, wriggling her bare legs together so that her pussy sings for me.

  “When you come,” I growl, inching down the bed, “I need to taste it.”

  I drop to my knees and slide my hands up her legs, reaching under to take greedy handfuls of her ass cheeks.

  She cries out when I yank her down the bed, squeezing onto her ample flesh, pulling her right to the end of the mattress.

  The closer I get to her pussy – pink and fresh and glinting in the low light – the stronger her scent becomes, washing over me intoxicatingly.

  I move closer and closer, inhaling deeply, savoring her scent.

  “How close are you?” I growl.

  “I don’t know,” she whispers.

  “What do you mean you don’t …”

  I trail off, my heartbeat becoming a war drum in my chest, pounding in my ears.

  “You’ve never had an orgasm before,” I whisper as the realization dawns.

  “Is that bad?”

  “Fucking hell, Fiona. You’re more perfect than I thought. No, it’s not bad. Get ready. I need to taste you.”

  I open my mouth and take in as much of her as I can get, groaning in animal satisfaction when her juices start to fill my mouth, spreading over my tongue.

  I growl and drag my tongue up her lips, toward her clit, and then I feel like I have to focus on her clit.

  It’d be cruel not to when she’s this enflamed with desire, her clit hard, begging for my attention.

  I flick my tongue ferociously against her clit, squeezing onto her ass cheeks so hard I know I must be leaving handprints.

  She gasps and moans, shifting against me as though she’s lost control of her body, as though she’s entirely subject to the whipping motion of my tongue now.

  I move one hand from her ass and bring it to her hole, sliding my fingers inside of her as I keep attacking her clit.

  “Uh, uh,” she gasps, her voice becoming hollow and taut.

  Suddenly, her movements stop for a long moment, as though her body is gathering up all its pent-up lust into a tight warm ball in her belly.

  I can feel her womb making her hole quiver for me, fluttering around my fingers, telling me she’s ready to take my seed and give me the life I never thought I wanted—the life I never knew I needed.

  She lets out a strangled scream as the orgasm barrels through her, shifting her thighs against me, squeezing them together so she traps my face against her.

  She falls back with a huff.

  I stand, staring down at her, fascination and desire crushing together deep inside of me.

  I can taste her orgasm on my lips, tangy and sweet. She lies twisted in the sheets on the mattress, her pussy teasing me with its glistening wetness, her nipples still hard, so pert I can imagine milk leaking from them at any moment.

  Fuck, I’d like to taste that.

  I need to taste everything she has to give.

  I reach down for my belt and she flinches, staring up at me with wide eyes.

  “What are you doing?” she whimpers.

  I stop, stilling my hands.

  “What does it look like?” I snap. “I need to feel how perfect your pussy is.”

  “I—please, not now, not tonight.”

  Something sinks in my chest.

  I stare at her, letting my hands drop from my belt.

  She bites her lip and tugs her tank top up, sitting up on the bed.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I think—maybe. I don’t know. Maybe we should leave it for tonight?”

  I lean down and kiss her on the forehead, smoothing my hand through her hair. She murmurs and moans, and that makes me step away quickly.

  I can’t stay here, not when the scent of her is so intoxicating, not when the taste of her needy pussy is still so fresh on my lips.

/>   “Okay,” I say, standing and turning for the door, my body tense with unaddressed desire, my manhood trying to explode out of my boxers. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry,” she murmurs as I stride toward the door.

  My hands are shaking. It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to charge across the room and tackle her onto the bed, to push her thighs apart and drive up inside of her.

  I bet she’s so tight, so hot, so fertile.

  So mine.

  Why doesn’t she want this as badly as I do?

  She belongs to me.

  But I’d never force my lady to do anything she’s uncomfortable with.

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” I say firmly, pacing for the door and letting the door swing quietly closed behind me.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Fiona

  I run after him, down the hallway, and push him up against the wall. He makes the same growling sound he did when he was between my thighs when he painted my pussy with a heat I’ve never felt before.

  I felt like I was boiling up from the inside when the orgasm hit me.

  I felt like I’d been punched by a fist made of starlight.

  “Fiona?” he murmurs, staring down at me with those captivating eyes.

  “Don’t speak,” I sigh. “Just get back in there and take me, Forrest. Fuck me hard. Fuck me until I can’t take it anymore—”

  I moan and my eyes blink open.

  There’s a moment where I’m sure it’s real, that that’s really how last night went.

  But no, I realize as the sunlight shines through the hazy curtains and comes to rest on my face.

  Forrest left and I lay here, anxiety replacing the budding confidence that grew within me as he claimed my sex.

  I close my eyes and relive last night, telling myself it was real.

  I didn’t dream it.

  When I woke to find him looming over me, his hard-muscled body framed in moonlight, I felt sure the bed was going to disappear beneath me and I’d jolt awake.

  But then he claimed my lips, kissing me hard, passionately, until I felt like I could sizzle and burst into an orgasm from the kissing alone.

  When he touched my sex, I was on fire, burning up.

  But then he wanted more …

  What the heck was I supposed to say to him?