Page 24 of The Billionaire Invitation

“I meant it.” Her eyes rolled back. “Please.”

“Stop saying please.” He weaved his fingers with hers and pressed her hand over her head. His other hand tucked under her ass. He tilted her hips up and sank in again.

She cried out.

“That’s what I want to hear. More of that,” he said with some effort. She wrenched her eyes open to take in his muscular frame, the taut biceps standing in stark relief as he held her hand in his, and the look of sheer concentration on his face.

Committed to his task, he kept rhythm while paying particular attention to the angle of her hips. He found her G-spot without error. When her cry of approval became higher and more desperate than any before it, he knew he’d struck gold.

That was when he focused on her face, his eyes never leaving hers. He untangled their fingers to nest his hands in her hair. His hips continued slamming into hers, her thighs taking the shockwaves, as he repeatedly hit the bullseye of a target he was incapable of missing.

Her mouth was open, her cheeks hot and flushed. She kept her eyes on his as she spun out—out of this room, out of this city, out of this galaxy…

Pressure built within her, intensifying until she couldn’t hold it in any longer. Only then did she let go, pulsing around him as she cried out again and again.

She didn’t have to wonder if she’d pleased him back. His shouts of release followed. He dropped his face to the bed, his guttural groans coating her ear and sending shivers down the length of her body.

He collapsed into her, her ass still cupped by his hand, his fingers still caught in her hair. His breathing slowed gradually, his weight pressing her deeper into the bedding.

“Fuck me,” he rasped before biting her earlobe.

She heard herself laugh. Again. She couldn’t seem to help herself. Being with him made her happy.

“I don’t know whether to say thank you or you’re welcome,” she said.

That drew a hoarse laugh from him. Only then did he pull his face from her neck to look down at her. Their smiles faded at the same moment, the intensity of what had happened settling between them. There was sex. There was fucking. And then there was whatever that was. Not quite making love, but close.

Nervously, she licked her lips and sorted through her head until she found the words to ease the tension of this moment. Because she couldn’t—wouldn’t—gaze up into her ex-boyfriend’s eyes and feel what she was tempted to feel right now.

Instead of traipsing into a war zone littered with heartbreak, she asked, “Why didn’t you want me on my knees?”

From within her he stirred to life again. He tilted his head and gave her a look of warning before sliding free of her body. She shut her eyes and enjoyed it, only opening them when he spoke.

“We’ll get there.” He pushed himself off the bed, his feet on the floor, his fists bracketing her body. “If not tonight, then eventually.”

“Eventually?” She pursed her lips. “I might not be available ‘eventually.’”

“Two weeks, Honesty.” His tone didn’t allow for any argument from her. “Give me two weeks.”

Two weeks wasn’t a one-off sweet treat. Two weeks was a binge. A habit. A way of living that she shouldn’t attempt or get used to.

But two weeks was also a lot of orgasms. A lot of feeling really good. And sex was healthy, she further amended. If masturbation cured migraines, imagine what multiple orgasms from Dante might do for her.

“You’re smiling. That looks like a yes,” he pointed out.

“Well, it’s a very good deal. Luxury penthouse in the sky, a bed the size of my office. Fine wine. Good food…”

“…a gorgeous naked woman singing my praises.”

“I didn’t sing.”

“Oh, you sang. You sang like a fucking canary.” He laughed at his own dumb joke and then kissed her on the lips. “Get your very fine ass in the shower. We have more work to do.”

Even having just come, a thrill shot through her body at the offer of more sex. And her mind buzzed with another type of thrill—knowing she didn’t have to do everything she wanted to do with him in one single solitary night. Apparently, they had two glorious weeks.

The only thing she had to remember was to keep her wits about her, not to let these two weeks mean more than they did. It was simply convenient for both of them. And fun. A hell of a lot of fun.

As she stepped into the huge walk-in shower, she released every thought from her head that remotely resembled a warning. She was a grown woman who was in charge of her faculties.