“What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to be too loud,” I whimper.
“You can be as loud as you want,” he growls. “These rooms are used by some of the richest, most paranoid people in the world from time to time. They’re soundproofed.”
“Really?” I moan.
“Yes. So if you want to scream, scream. In fact…”
He attacks my pussy again, pumping his finger with even more force. I didn’t even think that would be possible until he starts with the possessive movements, pummeling my ass cheeks with his knuckles.
I throw my head back and let out a shivering cry.
I can’t help myself. The ecstasy searing between my thighs is too compelling.
“I’ll get angry if you don’t scream,” he growls, a smirk in his voice.
The room is filled with the sound of my wet hole as he slips another finger inside of me, pinning me against his hand.
I start pushing back against him in the same rhythm, some primal part of me awakening at the closeness and somehow knowing what to do.
“You look so damn sexy right now,” he snarls. “Fucking hell. Keep pumping like that.”
I grab the sheets, no longer worrying about if I look silly, no longer able to worry about that.
All I can think about is the sensation of his fingers pushing against that deep, secret part of me, a place nobody has ever touched before.
He growls like an animal when I start to shudder and vibrate, the pleasure moving its way through me like an unstoppable force.
I’m sure I can feel my womb tightening, gathering up all its energy in preparation to explode like a star.
I cry out as the orgasm hammers into me.
My screams turn hollow, my gasps silent and I can’t move my hips anymore.
All I can do is lie there as he hammers his fingers deeper and harder into me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I cry, wetness exploding from my hole and squirting all over his fingers.
“Fuck, there’s so much cream,” he growls. “Jesus Christ. You horny virgin firecracker.”
“Oh, God,” I moan, collapsing and turning to him.
He smirks down at me, his eyes dancing.
“All fours—now,” he snaps.
I whimper as I do as he says, climbing to all fours again and keeping my gaze on him. He smooths his come-slick hands over my ass cheeks, spreading it so that I can feel my wetness hot against my skin.
“Your big juicy ass cheeks are shining for me,” he growls, reaching up and grabbing his shirt.
Rip.
With one savage move, he tears it off, the buttons popping and flying across the room, some of them landing on the floor and some scattering across the bed. He grabs his belt and yanks it loose, letting his trousers fall around his ankles.
I gaze at the glorious sight of him in his underwear, his chest a mass of solid, heaving muscle, his manhood barely contained in his boxer briefs. It’s huge, thick length, bulging against the fabric like any second it could spring free.
He grabs his boxers and pulls them down.
My heartbeat picks up speed as his manhood bounces, freed from its prison.
It’s huge, at least ten inches, probably more, like a forearm with veins going up and down, its length. His helm is engorged and massive, glistening with a dollop of precome that makes my womb sing with anticipation.
He’s going to put his seed in us, she moans. He’s going to give us a family and protect them. Forever.
“Move to the end of the bed like a good virgin,” he snarls, his voice shaking as if he can barely form sentences now.
I shimmy down and stick my ass out.
My neck aches turned toward him, but I don’t care. I have to face him, have to drink in the sight of his barely restrained desire.
He steps forward and grabs the base of his dick, guiding his helm to my soaked hole.
I shiver and let out a strangled moan when he drags his gigantic cock over my pussy, smearing precome over my clit and my lips, up and down my pussy and skirting close to my hole.
He gets closer and closer to my hole with each movement, teasing me.
I grab big handfuls of the silk sheets and push against him.
“So eager,” he growls. “Not so nervous anymore, are you, my perfect virgin?”
“I want it,” I whimper, no longer capable of feeling shame, not when he’s Forrest and I’m Fiona and we belong together.
Always.
“How badly?” he roars.
“So badly,” I cry. “I want it, I—”
My words turn messy and incomprehensible as he arches his hips and pushes inside of me.
His massive length opens up my untouched hole, driving deeper and deeper inside of me. I’m stunned by how large he is. It makes his fingers feel like nothing, like air.
He fills me up so completely I feel like I’m going to burst.
His cock presses forward, pushing against the walls of my sex.
I tighten my fists on the sheets, closing my eyes against his sizes, as he pushes deeper and deeper and my ass cheeks flatten against his rock hard abs.
He holds himself there, buried completely inside of me.
“It’s so big,” I gasp.
“You can take it,” he snarls.
“Yeah, yeah,” I moan.
But for a long terrifying moment, I’m not sure I can take it.
I shiver against him, biting my lip so hard I think I’m going to draw blood.
But then sweet relief starts to wash through me, starting in my belly and traveling outward, all the way to my hands so that I release my iron grip on the sheets.
“Oh,” I whimper.
“Oh?” he says, with the shadow of a smile in his voice.
My pussy relaxes just a tiny bit, just enough for the quiet pleasure to become so loud, so deafening, that I can’t hear anything else.
All I can feel is the warmth flooding into me now, like a thousand electric shocks happening simultaneously, over and over, each successive zap stronger than the last.
“That’s it,” Forrest snarls. “Good firecracker. Move your hips. Show me how much you can take.”
“Like this,” I moan, moving forward and back a little, shocked at how quickly I can feel the pressure of an orgasm mounting.
“Okay,” he growls. “But I’m fucking you hard soon. Fair warning.”
I reach back, twisting my body so I can claw onto him, digging my fingernails into his irrepressible abs as I rock back and forth.
I move slowly and so does he, both of us rocking in a shared rhythm as he pulls himself out of me and then softly pushes back in again.
I pump my hips a little harder after about a minute—or an hour, or a year.
Time does funny things when Forrest is inside of me.
He snarls and slides his hands up my back, grabbing my shoulders so that he can pull me against him as he thrusts forward.
Hot wetness spreads throughout my entire lower half, as though my womb is sending relief surging to every part of me so that I can take more of him so that I can take him harder.
“Yes, yes,” I cry, shifting my hips even faster now, the room filled with the sound of our bodies colliding in heated passion.
“Fuck, the way your ass is dancing for me,” he groans, with his voice shivering in that barely-contained way. “The way you’re pumping those hips … Don’t stop.”
“Like—this?” I moan, bouncing my ass off his abs.
“Yeah,” he grunts.
My eyes have flooded with bleary pleasure-fueled tears, making it difficult for me to drink in the sight of his sweat dappled body as he looms over me.
And then the pleasure starts to tingle and sizzle like a fuse has been lit.
He growls and fucks me even harder, pulling my body toward him with each thrust. We meet in the middle of the contact with a fleshy sound of release, his cock pounding deep inside of me.
My pussy sings and flutters, my hole tighteni
ng and widening as he thrusts deep inside and then pulls out right to his throbbing helm.
“I can feel how close you are,” he grunts, after an hour or a year or a century.
I don’t know how much time has passed.
All I know is the pressure between my legs is becoming too much to handle, a thousand tons of pressure crushing into my pussy until I know something has to release or else I’ll explode and take this room, this suite, this hotel, and all of Paris with me.
My clit sears and throbs as he leans down, wrapping his arms around my torso and hugging me close to him.
His breath whispers hotly over my ear and my cheek.
He slips a hand into my bra, finding my nipple and twisting it softly, making it tingle just as tantalizingly as my pussy.
“Come,” he snarls in my ear. “Cream all over my dick. I need to see it. I need to see that thick white juicy cream, Fiona.”
I reach up and clasp his face, my arm protesting at the awkwardness of the angle. But I don’t care, as long as I get to feel his skin against mine, hot and consuming.
He grabs onto my breast, hard enough to let me know who I belong to.
Our bodies melt together like they are one like our frantic pumping isn’t the motion of two people, but just one, and now I’m sinking into him and he’s sinking into me and all I can feel is that heat, that song between my legs.
I try to scream but it comes out strangled and stifled.
My pussy floods with even more tension and then releases in a sudden jolt.
He buries his face in my neck, kissing and biting as wave upon wave of orgiastic release pumps through my body.
I feel my insides tighten and then throw starry pleasure-fueled hands outward, over and over and over until I feel as if I’m floating.
I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s like his cock is made of fire, the flames licking at every part of me as he keeps pumping through the tightening and pulsing of my hole.
He snarls and leans back, grabbing my ass, his hands opening and closing as though he’s trying to find purchase and can’t.
“There’s so fucking much,” he snarls. “Oh—fuck, fuck.”
“Come,” I whimper, my voice quiet despite my newfound confidence.
It’s one step too far, this demand, and even now – even after everything – part of me is worried he’s going to laugh.
“Say it again,” he snarls, spanking me lightly on the ass.
“Come, Forrest,” I moan, slightly louder now.
“Louder,” he demands, spanking me in time with another pulse of the orgasm, as though the spank caused it.
“Come in me,” I moan, letting fly with my shyness now.
He wants me.
He thinks I’m beautiful.
And that’s all that matters.
“Com in me, Forrest. Please, please, please—”
“Argh,” he roars, filling me with his seed.
I fall onto the bed as he holds himself up with his fists laid against the sheets, thrusting into me a couple more times before he collapses, his lips coming to rest against my cheek.
He rolls aside and I roll with him, desperate to be close to him.
I remember the bleachers and the way Zack’s grin spread sickeningly across his face. I remember the letters and how fake they were. I remember how foolish I felt.
“You still want me, right?” I murmur, laying my forearms on his chest and leaning up so I can look into his shimmering eyes.
“What?” he growls, propping himself up.
“Now that I’m no longer a virgin,” I murmur. “Do you still want me?”
“My sweet firecracker,” he rumbles, his husky voice trembling. “There’s nothing in this world that could stop me from wanting you. You need to accept that because I’m not going anywhere. After that, I want you more. Fucking hell, you were so goddamn sexy.”
“I just went with it,” I say, a blush firing up my cheeks.
“Well, keep going with it,” he smirks, smoothing sweaty strands of hair from my cheek and tucking them behind my ear.
“I love when you do that,” I murmur.
“I love when you do that,” he counters.
“What?” I whisper, moving against his hand, turning so that I can have more contact with his fire-hot palm.
“Turn your head like that, hungry to be close to me. It’s good to know we feel the same. You’re as hungry for me as I am for you.”
“Always,” I moan.
“Forever,” he growls. “And soon we’ll have a little Forrest or Fiona to share our lives with. I think very soon.”
“Oh, that confident, are you?” I giggle.
“Your body was sending me some pretty clear signals,” he smirks.
“I hope you’re right,” I tell him. “I know it’s crazy. I know it’s quick. But I want a life together, Forrest. I …”
I love you.
“I’m so glad we met.”
“So am I,” he growls. “More than you could ever know. But I’ll try to prove it to you. Every day for the rest of our lives.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Forrest
I stand in the lobby, trying not to let nerves twist like roots in my gut. I’ve never felt like this before, not before any business meeting, any fight with my uncle, any argument. Nothing has ever caused this flare of uncertainty to spiral through me, aching and taunting.
I drop onto the cream couch and glance at myself in the mirror-wall, adjust my suit jacket so that the arms aren’t creased, and then sit back and try not to bite down or grind my teeth.
Last night was so damn magical, the way Fiona opened up for me, the way she set aside her shyness and bounced and moaned and became mine.
Afterward, when she lay in my arms, the certainty that I’d just put a baby inside of her swelled up inside of me with a deafening roar, impossible to ignore.
I smoothed my hand down her belly, holding it there, certain I could feel the life burning awake inside of her.
I run a hand through my hair, forcibly stopping myself from grinding my teeth from side to side like a goddamn machine.
This is the most important day of my life.
This is the day everything I’ve ever done, all the money I’ve ever made, has led to.
I never had a reason for accumulating all this wealth before. It was just a game, a game of domination and prowess, hunting through the business world like a big cat through the jungle.
But now, when I think of my business, I don’t frame it in those terms.
I imagine my son or daughter sitting in a boardroom with me, in the corner with their big happy smile filling my heart with the sort of joy I never dreamed a man like me could experience. I imagine them skipping around my office, making a mess, becoming the lovable terror of the workplace.
I imagine them getting older and becoming interested in how the business world works, and me coaching them, teaching them how to be strong and honest—and brutal when they need to be.
Or perhaps they’ll want to pursue writing like their mother, or art, or water polo or horseback riding or archery. I don’t care what they want to do, as long as I’ve got them, as long as I’ve got a family.
I glance at the elevator to the suite. The lobby is busy this lunchtime, with lots of guests checking in and out, but nobody skirts close to where I sit because I’m surrounded by four of my security detail.
They’re good, polite men, and don’t try to intimidate the passersby in any way. They stand like statues.
Finally, the golden doors to the executive elevator open and my queen walks out.
I stand, my temples pulsing in shimmering lust, my body tightening at the sight of her.
I told her to wear something beautiful, but this exceeds my wildest expectations. She’s wearing a long, fluttery summer dress that reaches all the way down to her ankles. It’s golden, the color of the sun, and the fabric rests against her body so tantalizingly I find myself scanning the lobby to make sure that
no other man is checking her out.
She’s let her hair fall wavy down to her shoulders.
When she gets closer, I see that she’s wearing a light touch of makeup, just enough to enhance her natural beauty that gleams through every single inch of her.
My security detail steps aside as she walks over to me, that tell-tell blush spreading across her chest and disappearing into her cleavage.
I almost roar as my eyes track the passage of that blush, my manhood tightening at the base. My helm throbs the same way it did last night when I pumped deep inside of her, her slit quivering with each thrust.
“You look incredible,” I growl.
I move forward and touch her hip, but only lightly.
If I apply any more pressure, I know I’ll lose control and savage her right here in the hotel lobby.
I’ll bend her over and push her dress up, revealing the round juiciness of her ass …
Fuck, her ass.
The way it bounced against my abs, the fullness of it dancing for me with each pump of my hips.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, looking shyly up at me. “Does that mean you’re going to tell me where we’re going yet?”
I smirk. “That’s a surprise, my perfect firecracker.”
“A good surprise?” she asks.
“Of course,” I growl, moving closer to her.
I can’t help myself. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close to me, feeling the irrepressible heat of her body through the dress. But I make sure to keep my hands high up on her back.
If I move any lower – if I feel her voluptuous hips and that bouncy ass – I won’t be able to restrain myself.
“So no hints?” she says, looking up at me with those wide, naïve green eyes.
But no—she’s not so naïve anymore.
There’s a budding womanhood beneath the naivety of those eyes, a flowering I can’t wait to nurture and watch grow as the years and decades pass, as she becomes a bestselling writer and our children flourish in a loving home.
“No hints,” I smirk. “But you’ll like it.”
I hope she will, anyway, but I don’t want to voice the uncertainty twisting its way through me.
“Hey,” she murmurs, reaching up and touching my face with her soft fingertips. “Are you okay? You seem … nervous? I mean, that seems impossible, for Forrest Ford to be nervous.”
Paris With The Billionaire: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance Page 11
