by Sky Corgan
I feel his tongue lap at the seam of my lips, and I curl my fingers into the comforter below, realizing what's about to happen. He noses in deeper, getting at my core, causing my hips to buck as his tongue touches on that sensitive forbidden spot where all my desire lies. My thighs tremble as he assaults it with vigor, licking and sucking until I cry out from over-stimulation. Contractions rip through me, making the place between my legs throb with undeniable pleasure. I just came all over his face.
“You taste amazing,” he moans into me, lapping at the wetness seeping out.
I want to cover my face and hide. That's the first orgasm I've ever had with a man, and it happened so quickly. I'm not sure if that's normal or not. I just know it felt amazing, and I want him to do it again.
“I'm sorry,” I stutter between breaths, trying to regain my composure.
“Don't be. I like that you're so responsive.” He emerges from between my legs, his lips glistening. He licks them and then groans slightly as if he enjoys the taste.
I lay there and watch as he straightens himself, giving his cock a few warmup strokes. It's so thick and imposing. Panic races through me as I once again consider if this is the right thing to do or not. It's very possible that he'll have sex with me and then discard me like yesterday's news. He's been so good to me though, so sweet and affectionate. If he's playing me, then he should win an Oscar.
“Tristan, I'm scared,” I admit, letting my vulnerability shine through.
“Of what?” He gives me a look of concern that sets my mind at ease. At this point in the game, most guys wouldn't care. They'd be so focused on sex that everything would be about getting what they want. Tristan is different though. He does care. Or, at least, he makes me think he does.
“I've never done this before.” I close my eyes, feeling like I'm confessing some sin to the preacher.
“You're a virgin,” there's no surprise in his voice.
“I told myself I'd only give myself to the man I married. This isn't how I thought things would happen.”
“How do you know I'm not that man?” The right words again. He's far too good at this.
I open my eyes and look directly at him, needing him to see how serious I am. “Please, don't break my heart.”
He doesn't reply. He simply moves forward, grabbing my legs and hooking them over his hips before he leans over me to guide his glans to my pussy. My heartbeat is in my throat as the seconds tick by like hours. This is it. I'm about to lose my virginity to him. I'm about to give myself to a man I've only met twice. A man who has managed to charm his way into my pants. This is wrong. I know that, but I can't stop it. I want him too badly.
He presses inside slowly, causing pain to surge between my legs. He's not all the way in yet, I can tell. He pauses, simply standing there and observing my face for a moment. “I'm at your entrance. One push, and you won't be a virgin anymore. Are you sure you want this?”
I can't believe he's giving me the chance to back out now. There's something endearing about it, the fact that he has such consideration. I wonder what he'd do if I told him no. There's no way of knowing though, because I say, “Yes.”
His eyes scan over my face a final time, landing on my lips. Then he grips my hips and pushes, thrusting all the way in. My back arches as he breaks through my barrier, filling me with his girth. There's a pinch of pain accompanied by a delicious throbbing that I never expected. My inner walls fight against him, clenching around his cock, forcing moans to fall from his perfect lips. He's lost in pleasure for a few brief moments before he looks at me and asks if I'm alright.
“Mhm.” I nod, trying to keep the pained look from my face. “Can we move up on the bed? I want you on top of me. I want to put my arms around your neck.” The words come from a deep greedy place within me. They bubble to the surface uncharacteristically.
He obliges, pulling out so that I can move farther up onto the bed. There's a strange soreness between my legs that I know I'll feel more of later. For now, he's about to come back inside. I want him inside of me.
He follows me onto the bed, and I bow my legs for him, waiting lustily for his return. When he crawls on top of me, I instantly wrap my arms around his neck. He leans down and gives me a sweet kiss on the lips before he presses himself into me again. It still stings, but I like the feel of him putting it in. Our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. One compliments the other.
I moan shamelessly as he begins thrusting slowly. Everything he does is so gentle. He's completely focused on my pleasure. It's as if his enjoyment doesn't even factor into the equation. I'm sure he's enjoying himself, but he's just so concentrated on me, my facial expressions, how I'm reacting.
We're making love. This is what it's like in all the movies I've watched. This is exactly what it's like. He moves on top of me rhythmically, filling me and pulling out to fill me again. I allow my eyes to roll back in my head, enjoying the sheer bliss of being with him, the feel of his muscles moving beneath my fingertips, the tightness that his cock causes between my legs. Pleasure swirls there and spills over again and again. The night is one never-ending orgasm for me, both physically and emotionally.
It's not until we're nearing the end that he finally picks up the pace, pumping into me for his own release. I'm a bit concerned that he's not wearing a condom, but I'm sure he'll pull out. It's just common sense.
I grip tighter around his neck to brace myself for the rough ride ahead. He's trying to be careful. Trying to glide in and out of me without it hurting too much. I bite my bottom lip and bear it, listening to the sound of his breathing, knowing he's almost reached his limit.
Finally, he falls over, letting out an animalistic grunt that is oh so hot. I would probably take more time to be aroused by it if I wasn't so busy panicking. Instead of pulling out, he pushes his cock deep inside of me, spurting into my body. It's too late to force him off of me. What's done is done.
I lay stiffly beneath him while he finishes up, pumping into me a few more times to get it all out. When he's emptied himself, he rests on top of me, panting heavily. Part of me wants to run my fingers through his hair and hold him against me, but I'm too pissed off. What in the hell was he thinking?
“You shouldn't have done that,” I grumble, unable to hide my displeasure.
“It will be fine.”
That's easy for him to say. He's not the one who would have to carry the kid for nine months. I don't believe in abortion, so if I end up pregnant, I'll be completely screwed. I could have just ruined my entire life for one night of passion.
“It's not okay,” I insist. “I could get pregnant. I'm not on birth control.”
“It will be fine,” his tone is emotionless as he rolls off of me and walks into the bathroom, returning with a towel seconds later.
As he cleans me off, I have a hard time staying angry at him. Maybe once won't hurt. I'd have the worst luck in the world if I got pregnant the night that I lost my virginity. Stranger things have happened to people though.
By the time he's done tenderly wiping me clean, most of the anger has dissipated. He tosses the towel into a laundry basket in the corner of the room and then climbs up onto the bed beside me, pulling me into his arms. He's a cuddler. Thank God. I would have been hurt if he had just kicked me out after sex. That's when a guy's true character usually comes out, after he's gotten what he wants and is done with you. Tristan seems to be sweet through and through though.
“I'm so glad I found you,” he tells me as he entwines our fingers together.
“I am too.” It's a half-truth. I'm still not sure how I feel about all of this.
“If I hadn't walked into your coffee shop that day. I don't want to think about it.” He kisses me on top of the head.
“I hate that you're so perfect,” I confess.
“Me? Perfect?” he laughs. “I'm far from perfect, dear.”
“Well, if you are, then you've done a good job at fooling me.”
He goes quiet, and we lay there in si
lence for several moments. I rest my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, loving the way he's fidgeting with my fingers. The night couldn't have gone any better. Well, maybe if he pulled out, it would have been better, but I'm willing to forgive that for now.
After laying with him for a good thirty minutes, I pull myself out of his arms, sitting up in preparation to get dressed and go home.
“Where are you going?” He sits up beside me, sounding slightly alarmed.
“Home.” I smile at him over my shoulder.
“Why?”
“Because I have work tomorrow.” I push myself to the edge of the bed to stand, but he reaches out to grab my wrist.
“Stay with me.” There's a strange vulnerability in the way he's looking at me. It's something I've never seen before. “Stay with me tonight.”
“And do what?” I quirk a brow at him, grinning.
“Cuddle. Sleep beside me. Anything you want. Just don't go.”
“You just want to get in my pants again,” I tease.
“No. Well, yes.” He rolls his eyes in mock defeat. “But no. I just want to be with you. So, stay with me. You won't regret it.”
CHAPTER FIVE
He's true to his words. We mostly spend the night cuddling. In fact, it's only about an hour after I call my mom to tell her I won't be home that we both end up passing out in each other's arms. It's like a dream come true. The perfect ending to the perfect night.
I wake up to a cold empty spot beside me. If not for the fact that I'm in a strange bed, I might have thought I dreamed it all. The soreness between my legs is very real though, the proof that I gave me virginity to a man I barely know. There's still a giddiness inside of me from the excitement of it all, and though I know I should be guarding my heart, I feel so in love.
I crawl out of bed and stare at the open bathroom door. Ideally, I'd like to have a shower, but I don't know where Tristan is, and I'd feel weird taking a shower in his house without letting him know first. So I get dressed in the clothes I was wearing the night before and head out onto the balcony overlooking the living room.
The mansion feels empty. I call for Tristan, but get no response, so I keep walking, sliding my hand across the railing as I head toward the stairs. The morning sunlight is shining through the wall of glass that faces his backyard, and it's a bit blinding, so I'm forced to shield my eyes with my free hand.
I make my way down the stairs and am met by Tristan at the bottom. He's wearing an ear to ear grin, and nothing else besides a pair of boxers. He looks absolutely delicious, and I feel my body churning for another romp between the sheets. Has he really turned me into a complete sexual deviant in just one night? What has gotten into me?
“Good morning, Cinderella. Your timing is impeccably bad. I fear you caught me cooking again.” He beams up at me.
“It's kind of nice to have my own private chef,” I tease. “You really don't have to spoil me like this though. You'll train me to expect it.”
“I like cooking, remember? Or has the night erased your memory of me.”
“A thousand years couldn't erase the memory of you.” I grin.
“It makes me happy to hear you say that. Otherwise, I'd have to spend every day reminding you of who I am.”
I bite my bottom lip, staring at him with a stupid smile plastered across my face. Maybe love at first sight doesn't exist. But I'm really starting to believe that falling in love with someone after only knowing them for a day does.
“You can hang out in here if you want. Explore. Do what you like. I'll call you when breakfast is ready.” He takes a step forward and kisses me on the forehead before retreating to the kitchen.
I sigh as I watch him walk away. He's so perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. I feel like I've said that word inside my mind a million times, but it's all I think of when I look at him.
For the briefest of moments, I consider following him to the kitchen. I like to watch him cook, and I want to spend more time with him. Yet the thought of looking around is a bit more appealing. You can learn a lot about a person by the things in their house. And I definitely want to know more about him.
I wander around aimlessly, checking out the expensive leather and mahogany furniture and admiring the art on the walls. He seems to have a thing for pictures of flowers, which shouldn't be so surprising, considering how romantic he is. The general color scheme for the house is mostly white with a hint of brown. It's contemporary and clean looking.
I walk into the sitting room and find a shelf with pictures on it. It's the first sign of anything personal in the entire house. I stroll up to it with a smile on my face, expecting to see his family. I can't help but wonder if they're all as attractive as he is.
The first picture I come across is one of Tristan with a red-headed woman. She's smiling brightly and has her arms draped around his neck. At first glance, I imagine she's probably a cousin or maybe his sister. But then as I go down the line, I see other pictures of her. Pictures of them holding hands. Pictures taken in a photo studio. Pictures of them sitting together on a sofa and him slipping a ring onto her finger. There are so many pictures of her. In fact, every picture on the shelf is of either her or the two of them together. It doesn't take long for everything to click into place. The son of a bitch is married.
From the Author
I hope you've enjoyed Part One of Between Two Billionaires. Billionaire #2 comes into play in book two, which will be out in a few weeks (around the middle of October). To be informed as soon as Part Two is available, please sign up for my newsletter.
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