Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels

by Priscilla West

  Sophie shivered, heat trickling through her veins like sweet honey. She’d fantasized about this once, back when they’d first met. How had he known?

  She took a few shaky steps forward, her whole body trembling as Henry watched her with burning embers for eyes. With her gaze on him, Sophie bent slowly forward, placing her hands on the cool wood of the ballet barre, shoulder width apart. She shifted her feet, spreading her legs wider.

  Henry’s hands clenched and unclenched. She watched in the mirror, panting, fingernails biting into the polished wood as he reached for his zipper and dragged it down. The purr of it parting was loud in the heavy silence of the studio. When he drew himself out, Sophie moaned.

  Thick and hard and dark, the round head glistening with pre-cum, Sophie had never seen anything as delicious as Henry’s cock looked right at this moment. Her whole body clenched with the desire to feel him inside her.

  It must have shown on her face, because he moved quickly into position behind her. His voice was gruff in her ear. “I can’t be slow, bella Sophie. I need you too much.”

  “I understand.” She nodded, breathless. “Please, Henry. I need you too.”

  He brushed her hair forward and touched his mouth to the nape of her neck. His left hand trailed down her arm to cover her hand, their fingers twining, while he lined his cock up with the soaked entrance to her pussy. Eyes on hers in the mirror, right hip gripped tightly in his big hand, Henry plunged into her, burying his entire hard length inside her in one swift, deep thrust.

  It was a wordless declaration, a primal claiming, and Sophie’s body clenched around him in reaction. The breath rushed from her lungs. Henry didn’t stop moving, pulling out of her almost completely before driving hard back into her.

  Sophie rocked forward onto the balls of her feet, arching her back slightly to angle her hips, to take him deeper into her silken confines. Henry cursed brokenly in Italian. Sophie whimpered as his next stroke rubbed over a tingling spot deep inside her. Her muscles strained to hold her in position, years of training and practice to hone her body paying off in a carnal and delicious way.

  “Dio! Sophie, you burn me, dolce. So sweet.” He kissed the curve of her spine as he pumped rhythmically, filling her and then retreating, his gliding thrusts powerful enough to shake her whole body. Henry’s hand slid from her hip, down her thigh. His fingers stroked her smooth skin briefly before curving around her knee and drawing her leg up, opening her wider for his delicious invasion.

  He pressed her thigh against his flexing hip. Sophie bent her knee and curled her leg around Henry’s trim waist until she could brush her toes against the straining muscles of his broad back. She squeezed him between her thigh and calf, taking some of her weight off of her left leg. Henry growled.

  Sophie chuckled breathlessly at the animal twist of desire on his face. She had never been so happy to be a dancer in her life. Flexibility and muscle tone was good for more than just ballet.

  Henry’s arm snaked around her hips, his fingers once again finding the pulsing bud of her clit, and Sophie’s humor melted beneath the heated blast of pleasure that poured through her. The combination of Henry’s hot, hard length driving deep into the wet grip of her pussy and his fingers swirling around her clit had her orgasm bubbling quickly inside her.

  “Henry!”

  “Give me your mouth, dolce,” he rasped in her ear. Sophie obeyed, turning her head so that he could reach her lips with his. The kiss was primal, his tongue sliding between her lips in rhythm with his wickedly pumping cock.

  Her eyes drifted shut. She didn’t need to see anymore. She wanted only to feel all the amazing thing this wonderful man was making her feel. His words said he ‘cared’ about her, but his touch, his body said more. It said he needed her, craved her, cherished her, loved her.

  Sophie’s orgasm thundered through her with the power of a freight train. She shuddered, toes curling, hands clenching so tightly on the wood of the barre that she lost feeling in her fingers. Or, perhaps that was only because the nerves of her body were all busy conveying the overload of information from between her legs.

  Henry’s fingers kept caressing her as his cock tunneled into her slick flesh, drawing the sensations out. He murmured rough, sweet words she couldn’t understand against her lips, touching his damp mouth to her cheek, her jaw, her eyelids before returning to her mouth.

  Oh God, how she loved this man!

  “Sophie,” he groaned, wrapping his arms tightly around her and holding her against him as she clenched rhythmically around his shaft and whimpered. Had she spoken her words of love aloud? She didn’t know, didn’t care. All her attention was focused on Henry, on the place where their bodies joined.

  He withdrew from her suddenly, making her cry out at the loss. She felt empty and cold without him pressed against her, into her.

  “Henry, what—” she began breathlessly, her question becoming a gasp of surprise as he swept her up into his arms and strode out of the classroom. She wriggled in his arms. The hot, slick tip of his cock brushed against her ass as he pushed through the door.

  “I know I saw, ahh. Good.”

  Sophie blinked as he flipped on the light in the office, a pleased tilt to his sculpted mouth as his dark eyes took in the narrow cot against the far wall. Darren had gotten it for emergencies, so they’d have a spot for an injured or unwell student to lay down if needed.

  “There’s no way we can both fit on there. There’s no room.” She stroked a lock of sweat damp hair back from his forehead, stroking her fingers down the line of his jaw. Sophie pressed her mouth against the warm, moist skin of his throat and licked, enjoying the salty taste of him.

  “There’s enough. Trust me.” He laid her gently on the soft cloth, his hands trailing over her shoulders, breasts, belly and hips. He skimmed lightly over her skin, the caresses barely there. Sophie quivered, fresh desire spiking her veins.

  Lying as he’d placed her, thighs parted, arms at her sides, Sophie watched as Henry undressed with swift precision. She licked her lips as he undid his cufflinks and pulled the dress shirt completely off, setting it on a nearby shelf.

  She didn’t see him heel-and-toe off his shoes and socks, but he must have done so because when he dropped his slacks and boxers, he stood bare before her. Her heart performed a rather passable jeté as he sank to his knees and tugged her forward.

  Henry lifted her legs around his shoulders, eyes glinting as he bent to press his mouth to her her drenched sex. Despite the monumental orgasm that had swept through her only a few minutes ago, the touch of his hot mouth on her pussy sent a shard of pleasure deep into her gut.

  “Henry, God!” Sophie moaned, the muscles of her belly tightening as she leaned up on her elbows to watch him. He met her gaze, rubbing his open mouth back and forth against the slick lips of her slit. He licked his lips, nuzzling his chin against her inner thigh.

  “I want to make you feel good, mia bella Sophie.”

  His voice was thick, his gaze dark and intense. And there was so much to his words. He was bad for her, he’d said. He’d only hurt her. He’d sounded like he really believed that. Was he trying to prove, perhaps to both of them, that he could do better than that?

  She brushed her fingers lightly against his cheek, his lips, his hair. “You do, Henry.”

  There was a tender fierceness in his gaze as he pressed a kiss to her mound. Then his tongue snaked out to lap at her, pushing wet heat against her clit and lower, into the satin clutch of her swollen passage.

  Sophie fell back on the cot, arching, her fingers tightening in his hair. She lifted her hips, urging him against her reawakened flesh.

  He nibbled and sucked, his mouth insistent as he once again drove her back up to pulsing, writhing peaks of pleasure. His hands weren’t still either, roaming her body while he worked between her thighs. He stroked and caressed her breasts, tugging her nipples until she cried out at the tingling bolts of sensation this sent into her womb.

  As she grew
more frantic, rubbing and pressing herself against his mouth, so too did his ministrations. He kneaded her hips and belly before sliding his grip down beneath her ass, lifting her to his wicked mouth. His tongue speared inside her, pushing and sliding, deliciously hot and the tiniest bit rough against her tender tissues.

  Henry pulled her clit between his lips and pressed, sucking, tipping her over the edge.

  Golden, sparkling pulses of pleasure cascaded through Sophie like the finale of a fireworks show, exploding behind her eyes and between her thighs.

  This time she was aware of calling out her love for Henry, unable to contain the words when he had made her feel this way. He responded with a feral growl, dragging his mouth over her belly as he crawled quickly up her body, his movements strong and powerful, like a great cat.

  He took her mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue demanding against hers. He tasted of her, his lips and face still warm and damp with her juices. Sophie wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, squeezing him tightly as she curled her legs around his waist.

  “Tesoro,” he murmured, nipping her lip, and then slipped into her with one slow, deep push. His cock was thick and hot and pulsing inside her. Sophie clung to him, trembling at the sensation of being filled, stretched, completed. Henry’s broad palms cradled her head, his eyes glittering. He didn’t move, just held himself within her.

  And then his eyes drifted closed and he sighed, his voice ragged. Sophie wasn’t sure she caught all of his whispered words then, though she wouldn’t know what “desidero che potrei rimanere qui per sempre” meant either way.

  Still, she cupped his face between her palms and kissed his mouth. “I love you, Henry Medina.”

  He moved then, the urgency of their earlier joining gone, though none of the intensity was. They didn’t speak anymore, not out loud. But Henry watched her face as he rocked into her, pressing her down into the cot. The metal legs shifted and squeaked beneath their weight, but Sophie didn’t care.

  She held him against her heart, urged him with the press of her ankles against the small of his flexing back, the stroke of her hands against his shoulders. She met each thrust with an arch of her own, shivering with the fierce tingling of each glide of his cock inside her, the friction hot and delicious.

  Her fingernails dug into the sweat slick skin of his muscled arms as pleasure expanded within her yet again, pushing outward from beneath her skin like a bubble. Her breath was a ragged pant, her breasts rubbing against the wiry mat of Henry’s chest hair.

  He slid his arms beneath her, lifting her against him, his hold tight. He surrounded her, filled not only her body, but all her senses; the spicy scent of his skin, rasp of his breath, the wet slide of his cock, his dark eyes burning into hers, the intoxicating taste of his mouth as he took hers in a passionate kiss. Sophie felt as if there wasn’t a single inch of her self, inside or out, that Henry wasn’t touching. It was beautiful and perfect.

  Tears stung her eyes, slipping from beneath her lids as her eyes fluttered closed and she was swept beneath the tide of overwhelming pleasure as Henry made her come again. She cried out, arching hard against him, fingers digging into his shoulders, legs squeezing as her pussy clamped down on his shaft.

  This time, Henry came with her. His groan sounded wrenched from deep within him as he drove his cock into her, pressing his pubic bone tight to hers as he twitched and jerked. Sophie felt the swell and pulse of his flesh within her and the warm rush of his seed filling her. She shuddered, more tears wetting her cheeks as even more pleasure rippled through her at the slick heat of it.

  Henry pressed his forehead hard to hers, his breath warm on her damp skin as he, too, shuddered with his release. His weight bore down on her, but Sophie didn’t care. She tightened her arms and legs around him, holding him there, not wanting him to move, to leave her.

  Beneath them, the metal legs of the cot gave a squealing groan, but they didn’t collapse. Henry chuckled softly. “That’s some quality craftsmanship.”

  “Seriously,” Sophie huffed a laugh. “I’m impressed.”

  His lips touched the arch of her brow, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Sophie sighed. She knew they still needed to talk. They hadn’t exactly finished their conversation earlier. They’d gotten sidetracked.

  With delightful results, admittedly. But still. She stroked the long muscles of his back, trailing her fingertips along the bumps of his spine. Henry exhaled softly, his breath brushing softly across her throat and the tops of her breasts.

  “Sophie, I...” He trailed off, swallowing, his eyes on her face. Just as she had earlier at the party, Sophie pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing him.

  “There are things we still need to discuss. I know.”

  Henry nodded and then dropped his forehead to her collarbone. “There is so much... Sophie, I want to tell you about the company and my father and Nicole –”

  “Um, can we not talk about her when we’re,” she wriggled her hips beneath him and felt the slight twitch of his still semi-hard cock inside her, “like this? Please?”

  Henry chuckled. “Okay. Though, we do need to talk. About a lot. You were right about some of the things you said, but...” He lifted his head and met her eyes. “Sophie, I need to think.”

  She felt a small bubble of coldness bloom in her heart. She had thought she’d understood what he’d been saying, without words, while he made love to her. But perhaps she’d been wrong. Maybe this was just a ‘goodbye’ fuck. She almost winced in pain at the thought.

  It must have shown on her face, because Henry’s hands cupped her head and squeezed gently. “Not like that. I’m saying this all wrong. Tonight has been...” He shook his head and then brushed her lips with his. “Overwhelming. All I’m saying is I need a little time to process everything before we have this talk. Do you understand?”

  Sophie swallowed, trying to push the fear from her heart and mind. He was making sense. She had dumped a lot in his lap, showing up at the party out of the blue and throwing herself in Jorge and Nicole’s face, blowing up at Henry, proclaiming her love. He had a right to feel overwhelmed, and every right to ask for some time to process it.

  Time didn’t mean he was rejecting her. She had to remember what she’d just felt in his arms. Sophie forced herself to meet Henry’s eye, give him a smile, and nod. “Of course. Why don’t we... maybe we can do lunch in a day or so. Once you’ve had time to think.”

  She fluttered her lashes, trying to ignore the sting of tears at the back of her nose. She released his shoulders and began wriggling, trying to shift him off of her so she could get up and get dressed.

  Henry’s arms tightened around her. “If you keep doing that we’ll never get back to my apartment.”

  “W-what?” Sophie stilled. Henry released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The corners of his mouth ticked upward.

  “You can be in the room while I think, Sophie. It’s getting late, and I’m sure you must be as exhausted as I am. Come back to my place. Stay with me. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Sophie felt her eyes widen as his words sank in. She’d thought he was asking her to leave him alone for awhile, but he was asking her to spend the night with him. Not that she hadn’t done that in the past, but he’d never asked her to.

  Her breath caught in her throat. He wanted to talk. He wanted to open up to her, he’d said as much. And he wanted her near him. Surely, those were all good signs. Perhaps she hadn’t misread the silent messages his body had been sending her all night.

  “Okay.” The word was barely a breath. It was all she had, because the warm glow of invitation in Henry’s eyes and the curve of his mouth had stolen the rest. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The first pink light of dawn touching the New York City skyline woke Sophie in the morning.

  She stretched, reveling in the sweet ache in her muscles. Henry had brought her to the penthouse last night, and they’d made love again, his big, hard body cradling her
s as he spooned her, moving so deliciously slowly that her orgasm had seeped into her like warm water sinking into sand.

  He’d breathed her name in her ear as he’d come, shaking against her back as he poured into her. His body had relaxed then and they’d both drifted off to sleep in minutes, still tangled together.

  She was alone in the acres of bed now, though. Sophie had never known anyone who rose earlier than she did, but Henry was always up before her. Or, at least, he had been every night she’d spent here.

  Which brought to mind her other mornings here at Henry’s. Would she leave the building crying again today?

  Sophie knew it was a possibility. If Henry decided he wasn’t willing to open up, to take this risk for the chance of something more, it would break her heart. Now that she’d admitted she loved him...

  No. Sophie refused to borrow trouble. She swung herself out bed, shivering a little as the cool air struck her naked body. Once again, when she glanced around the richly appointed room, there were no signs of her clothes. There was no way a maid had come in while they were sleeping. Not this early.

  Had Henry put them somewhere? Last time he’d left her clothes in the bathroom. She hurried in that direction, wanting to see him again. She wished he’d been there when she woke. It would be nice to see Henry, face relaxed and sleepy, dark hair mussed. Her heart thumped at the image and her pussy gave a twinge of appreciation.

  “Down girl,” she muttered with a chuckle. She’d think after the multiple, mind-bending orgasms Henry had given her last night that she’d be sated for at least a day. Apparently not. When it came to him, she was insatiable.

  Her clothes were folded neatly on the bench beside the shower. Only, they weren’t her clothes. Sophie frowned. They were, actually, just not her clothes from last night. The black, stretchy pants were identical, but the t-shirt was white, emblazoned with the words ‘I Should Have a Follow Spot’.

  It was the t-shirt she’d worn the first time she’d spent the night at Henry’s. That time, she’d shed it in the small parlor off his bedroom and the maid had gathered it up before she woke. Henry had promised to return it to her, but in all the drama that followed, she’d completely forgotten about it.