My Wounded Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 5)

by Serenity Woods

  His hips are moving a little faster now, but I don’t mind, it feels good, it feels so good… Oh wow, pleasure is building again, tightening me up as if I have a spring inside. He lifts up onto his hands, and as he rocks his hips, he grinds against my clit… oh jeez… that feels amazing… Oh… I can feel it… way off in the distance…

  “Oh God, don’t stop, don’t stop,” I beg him. It’s almost in reach… I’ve never felt like this before, never…

  “I won’t.” He bends to kiss me. “I’m taking you all the way, honey. Relax and let it take you. Come for me.”

  I’m so close… I can’t believe it… Oh God, don’t stop… I let my knees fall to the side and my thighs open, and all there is in the world is Marc’s hot mouth and that sweet spot in my belly that’s so tight it’s almost hurting… I want to… I can’t quite… I’m almost…

  He bends and covers my nipple with his mouth and sucks gently, and that tips me over the edge. Pleasure sweeps over me, everything tightens, and the pulses start, deep and powerful, forcing me to cry out loud as I clench around him. He kisses up to my mouth and covers it with his own, and I feel wholly his at that moment, I belong to him, as if he’s climbed a mountain and planted a flag to claim me. He thrusts harder, but it doesn’t hurt; somehow it just prolongs my orgasm, which seems to go on forever, making me cry out with its intensity.

  He’s plunging inside me, filling the air with the sound of our lovemaking, which is so hot I can’t believe it, and then suddenly he stops and shudders, and his hips jerk… And with a burst of pure joy I realize he’s coming inside me. Within a minute, goddamn it.

  He groans, “Aaahhh…” His mouth is hot on mine, his body like rock beneath my fingers as all his muscles tense. He’s feeling what I’ve just felt, and I’ve done that for him.

  I don’t know whether to be more amazed by my orgasm, or the fact that, at that moment, his life-giving fluid is spilling inside me. We could have made a baby tonight. Oh my God. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my whole life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fitz

  My body finally releases me, and I gasp and bury my face in Poppy’s neck, breathing heavily. Oh, man. It felt amazing being inside her without the barrier of a condom, and made me so incredibly sensitive that it took all my willpower to make sure she came first before I gave in and let it happen.

  But she did come—unless she faked it, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t. I don’t think she did, anyway. Can a man ever be one hundred percent sure?

  I lift my head to look at her. To my shock, I see tears on her face.

  “Hey.” I push up onto my elbows and stare at her, startled. “What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?” I was as gentle as I could have been, although I got carried away toward the end. But I thought she was enjoying it.

  She shakes her head, her bottom lip trembling, as more tears gather on her lashes and then spill over like a rowboat going over a waterfall.

  “Honey…” I try to kiss them away. “I’m sorry.” Oh God. She did fake it, and now she feels guilty. Fuck. “It’s okay. It was our first try. It takes time to get to know one another. I’ll get better. Don’t worry. You might still be pregnant.” Saying it out loud gives me a funny feeling inside. I might have gotten her pregnant. Holy shit. That’s a first.

  “I know,” she whispers. “That’s partly why I’m crying.”

  I kiss her soft lips. “Only partly?”

  “I feel so stupid.”

  I frown. “What?”

  “You must think I’m such an idiot. Telling you women never have an orgasm during sex.”

  “You didn’t fake it?”

  She gives a short laugh. “No, Marc. I didn’t fake it.”

  I kiss her, feeling a flood of relief. I was convinced I’d be able to prove her wrong, but it’s nice to know for sure. “You promise?”

  “I promise,” she whispers.

  I kiss her wet cheeks, then back to her mouth. “Don’t cry.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “Aw.” Carefully, I withdraw and stretch out beside her. “Here, pull your knees to your chest. It’s supposed to keep the little swimmers inside for a bit longer.”

  Her big green eyes look up at me, and I feel a wash of tenderness and affection. I move up close and wrap my arms around her, pulling the duvet over us. “Come here.”

  Still curled up, she cuddles me, and I kiss the top of her head. She wipes her face, then rests her cheek on my shoulder.

  “I could have knocked you up,” I tell her.

  That makes her laugh. “Oh Marc, you’re so romantic.”

  “It’s amazing though, when you think about it. That you can create life out of an act of pleasure.” I trail my fingers up and down her spine, my eyelids drooping. Damn after-sex hormones.

  “It is amazing, you’re right. Inside me, your sperm are swimming up, searching for an egg to fertilize. It sounds so scientific for an act that was born out of pure emotion.”

  “Hey, there was science involved. I was quoting E=mc2 in my head while I was going down on you.”

  We both start laughing, and she gets the giggles. She has a beautiful laugh—I don’t hear it anywhere near enough.

  “You have a lovely chuckle,” she says, resting her hand on my chest and yawning. “It starts all the way down here. You don’t laugh enough. You’re so serious normally.”

  “I was just thinking the same about you.”

  “Maybe we just haven’t found the right person to laugh with.” She exhales, her breath fanning across my chest.

  “Maybe.”

  She mumbles something I can’t quite hear. It sounds like, “Fuck him.”

  “Pardon?” I ask, but she says, “Nothing.”

  Outside, the light above us flashes occasionally, sending its warning out to sea. But in here it’s quiet and cozy. Poppy’s body is warm and soft. Her hair smells of mint, and her skin of strawberries. Everything about this girl makes my mouth water.

  In less than a minute, we’re both asleep.

  *

  I’m a light sleeper, and I rouse a couple of times in the night, once to pee, and the second time I go down to the fridge and grab a bottle of water for a drink. Each time, when I come back to bed, Poppy’s sleeping soundly. In the moonlight, her skin looks like porcelain, and her hair is a silvery gray. She looks so beautiful that I take a photo of her with my phone, captured in repose. God, she’s so beautiful it makes my heart ache.

  I think about her mumbled words, Fuck him. She was talking about Daniel. Maybe before she slept with me, she could tell herself he was normal, and sex was like that for everyone, but now? Perhaps I’ve done her a disservice, and she would have been better not knowing.

  Then I think I might have made her pregnant, and my lips curve up a little. I slide back into bed and slip my arms around her, and she snuggles back against me. I’m not going to tell myself she would have been happier without this.

  I fall asleep with my cheek resting on her hair, and I dream of mint and strawberries, and summer.

  *

  The next time I wake, the sky’s the color of cinnamon, so I know it must be around six-thirty. I’m wrapped around Poppy, and she’s fast asleep. I yawn and stretch, discover I have a hard-on, and decide it’s a shame to waste it when I’m trying to get the girl pregnant.

  I begin by moving aside her glorious hair to kiss her neck. The skin here is soft, and I press my lips behind her ear, and slowly down her neck to her shoulder. She stirs, but I don’t stop, kissing her shoulder and upper arm.

  “Marc?” she whispers.

  “Go back to sleep.” I push her gently onto her front. She shifts, burying her face in the pillow, and I push the duvet down, exposing her pale back. All that luscious skin, begging to be kissed. I press my lips down her spine, then either side of it, covering as much space as I can, taking my time to brush my lips over each rib and muscle, occasionally touching my tongue there, too. I kiss down her sides, reach her hips, an
d kiss over her bottom. I’m an ass man, and Poppy’s is exemplary, so I take my time here, kissing the plump muscles, nibbling occasionally, and trailing my tongue up to her tailbone, which makes her shiver. I run my tongue along the crease of her bottom and down her thigh, part her legs, and bring up a hand to join in the fun.

  I stroke down over her bottom and continue beneath her, just brushing lightly, not penetrating, not yet. She shivers again, and I smile, knowing I’m starting to get to her. She’s no different from any other woman; all it takes is attention and time, like planting a seed and watching it grow. It’s not rocket science.

  Lying beside her, I continue to press my lips to her back and bottom while I stroke her, and then after a few minutes, I finally press my fingers a little firmer, and sink them into her folds. She’s swollen and moist, and I sigh as I glide my middle finger to her clit. I circle my finger over the tiny button, and she moans and widens her legs, showing me how much she likes it.

  “That’s it,” I murmur, keeping up a slow, steady rhythm. “Good girl. Just relax.” I stretch out beside her, propping my head on my hand, and kiss her neck, her ear, and, when she turns her head to look at me with her wide green eyes, her mouth, as my fingers slip through her folds.

  This time, she opens her mouth willingly for me, and when I tease her tongue with mine, she returns with small thrusts of her own. My blood begins to heat and pump faster around my body, and I feel an overwhelming urge to be inside her.

  I wait, though, playing with her for as long as I can bear it. While I do, part of me observes that need with interest. The research I did on getting pregnant has made me think about how much of lovemaking is driven by a desire to procreate, and how what seems to be instinctive and impulsive is actually nature taking over, pulling the strings without us knowing. My body wants to inseminate her, regardless of what my brain thinks about it. For some reason, I have no idea why, it makes me hot.

  I was going to bring her to orgasm and then arouse her again before I penetrated her, but I can’t wait. I shift on the bed, moving up and between her legs. She gasps and stiffens, no doubt haunted by memories of the Maggot driving into her from behind without any thought to how it felt for her. I feel a fierce need to prove to her it doesn’t need to be like that.

  “I’m going to go slow,” I murmur in her ear. “I can go deeper like this. Deeper inside you. Don’t you think that would be nice?”

  She tips her head to the side as I touch my tongue to her earlobe and her lips part in a soft moan. “Maybe.”

  “I’ll be gentle. I’m here for you, remember? Do you trust me?”

  She glances over her shoulder. “Yes,” she whispers.

  I kiss her lips. “I’m going to make you come again. And again, and again this week, in every position I can think of. Until all you can think about is me and how it feels to come with me inside you, filling you up.”

  She drops her forehead onto the pillow. “Marc…”

  I push up her left knee and position myself beneath her, then press the tip of my erection against her entrance. Slowly, I push forward.

  She groans, so I stop and withdraw, then do it again, coating myself with her moisture and going a tiny bit deeper with each thrust. It’s hard to go slow; I want to plunge into her, bury myself inside her, but I clench my hands in the duvet and grab hold of all my willpower, forcing myself to take my time.

  She’s breathing heavily, so I stop and slide my hand beneath her. I cup her breast and brush over her nipple with my thumb, and as I kiss her neck, she exhales with a sigh.

  “Just relax,” I say softly, kissing up to her ear, because I know she likes that. I trace around the edge with my tongue and then blow softly. “Let me love you.”

  I slip my hand further down, beneath her, into her folds, and swirl a finger over her clit. I massage it for a while, giving small, shallow thrusts.

  “Oh God.” She relaxes her thighs and more moisture eases my way inside her, so I push forward, and this time I go all the way.

  I pause and rest my forehead on her shoulder, reveling in the feeling of being enclosed in her warmth. “That feels so good,” I tell her, beginning to move again, and continuing to circle my finger between her legs. “I like being inside you. Do you like it?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “Tell me you like it.”

  “I… like it.”

  “I like doing it like this,” I tell her, feeling a little feverish. “Without a condom. Making you pregnant. Making you mine.”

  “Marc…”

  “Tell me you want me to make you come.”

  “Oh God.” Her teeth tug at her bottom lip and her brow creases. She’s not far from coming, and I’m only seconds behind her.

  “Tell me,” I urge her, slowing my finger.

  She groans with frustration. “Ohhh… I want you to make me come.”

  “Tell me you want me to come inside you.”

  “I… oh… want you to come inside me.”

  I stroke her more firmly, and she tips her head back. Her eyes are closed, her cheeks flushed, Jesus, she’s so fucking beautiful like this. I can’t help it; my hips speed up and I plunge inside her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She pushes back against me, her lips parting, and her hands curl where they clutch the pillow as she reaches out for her climax.

  “Oh God,” she says, “don’t stop…”

  “I’m not going to stop, honey.” I kiss down her neck and suck gently where her pulse beats. “I’ll take you all the way, remember?”

  “Mmm… I’m so close…”

  My fingers slide through her swollen folds, as I guide her closer to the edge. “There’s no rush. I’ll wait for you. I’m ready to fill you up when you’re ready.”

  “Ah jeez… I… can’t…”

  “Yes you can. Stop reaching. Just let it happen. Let me guide you there. Let me lead.”

  She unfurls her hands, and a little of the tension leaves her body.

  “That’s it.” I know she’s close. I can feel her tightening, deep inside. I love this moment, knowing she’s seconds away from bliss. “There it is, can you feel it coming? Let it take you.”

  “Marc…” She shudders and then cries out as she clenches around me. “Oh… fuck…” She clamps hard, and it’s too much for me—there’s no way I can hang on when she’s doing that.

  I thrust harder, and in less than ten seconds, my climax hits me. Heat rushes up from my balls, and I expel jet after jet inside her. Ah, Jesus, that feels good… such exquisite pleasure… accompanied by a smug satisfaction at the thought that I made her come. Oh yeah, fuck yeah… Poppy King, you’re mine now, no other guy is ever going to touch you again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Poppy

  Marc is heavy on top of me, hard inside me. This moment is going to remain vivid in my memory forever, as if someone has opened the top of my skull and engraved a picture on my brain.

  The rising sun fills the room with a warm orange glow. It’s warm, too, although that’s probably more to do with the amount of heat we’re generating. I’m covered in sweat, and Marc’s chest is sticking to my back.

  I’m exhausted, physically and mentally. Last night, I’d wondered whether the sex we’d had was a one-off, born out of my naivety. It was a novelty, like nothing I’d experienced before, and I’d assumed subsequent times could never be as amazing.

  Ohhh… silly, silly Poppy.

  He’s still inside me, and he moves now, giving a couple of small thrusts as he kisses my neck, and an aftershock of pleasure runs through me.

  I give a little groan, and he chuckles. “Not nice?”

  “You’re squishing me,” I tell him.

  “So?”

  “Marc…”

  He nibbles my earlobe, still moving inside me. “Good morning.”

  I try not to laugh, and fail. “How come you’re still hard? Does it ever go down?”

  “Not when you’re around.” He sighs, withdraws, and shifts onto the bed bes
ide me. As I go to get up, though, he pulls me back into his arms.

  “I’m hot,” I complain, “and I need to pee.”

  “Not yet. Let your uterus marinate in my little fellas for a few minutes.”

  I give in and lie back in his arms. He smells hot, of clean sheets, aftershave, and sex. It’s strange that he’s thinking about getting me pregnant while we make love. Odd that he knows so much about it. He’s so quiet and broody, I hadn’t expected him to be like this in bed. Confident and knowledgeable. Just thinking about his demand, Tell me you want me to come inside you, fills my face with heat.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Nothing.”

  He smirks. “Still think women can’t have an orgasm during sex?”

  “Don’t be smug.”

  “Absolutely I’m going to be smug. I intend to prove it at least twice a day this week.”

  I blow out a breath. “The likelihood of getting pregnant doesn’t increase the more times you do it in a day, as long as you do it around ovulation.”

  “So? I want you to get your money’s worth.”

  Something in his voice makes me blink and frown. I thought I heard a touch of resentment in his words. But then I’m terrible at reading people, so maybe I’m hearing that wrong.

  He leans forward and kisses me, so I guess he’s not angry. He slides his tongue into my mouth, his hand moving down my back to my butt, and I shiver and say, “Stop it.”

  He laughs and rolls over, sitting up. “Come on then. We should have a shower and breakfast. Gotta keep your strength up.” He smirks at me again over his shoulder and goes into the bathroom.

  I lie on my back, lift my arms above my head, and look up at the ceiling. I feel pleasantly mellow and achy. Well-used. The thought makes me giggle. He’s such a naughty boy. Telling me he’d only make a baby the old-fashioned way. I get you, Poppy. He wanted me, and I suppose he found a way to have me; he doesn’t care it’s only temporary. If I really liked a man, I wouldn’t be satisfied with just sex. But that’s guys for you.