My Wounded Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 5)

by Serenity Woods

  I push myself up to see if I can sit astride him, attempt to straddle him, and promptly sit on the horn in the middle of the steering wheel. The resulting blare makes us both jump, then laugh.

  “Indoors,” he instructs, lowering me back to his side. “I’m far too old and too big to have sex in a car, and besides, I can’t go down on you like this.” I shiver as he slips his hands beneath my sweater onto my skin and slides them up my back. “I want to taste you,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to my neck. “I want to make you come with my mouth.”

  “I guess it’s a shame to pass up on the chance to increase the amount of semen,” I say, breathless.

  He gives a short laugh. “Absolutely.” He covers the place on my neck where my pulse is racing and sucks gently, and I groan.

  “Right,” he says, moving back. “Inside, now.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Fitz

  I unlock the lighthouse door, grab Poppy’s hand, and lead her inside. I’m kissing her before I’ve even locked the door. She got me so fired up in the car, if she hadn’t sat on the horn, I might well have attempted to get her jeans off and have her on my lap.

  But this makes more sense. I’m ready for her now, but I’m going to have to wait. I have lots of pleasuring to do first.

  I pull her toward me, push her jacket off her shoulders, and toss it onto the sofa. Then I take her sweater by the hem and start pulling it up her body.

  “Don’t you want a drink first?” she asks faintly.

  “Nope.”

  She sighs and lifts her arms, and I draw the sweater over her head and toss it on top of her jacket. Then I kiss her again, wrapping my arms around her.

  She slips her hands beneath the hem of my T-shirt, and I shiver as she traces her fingers up my back to my shoulder blades. Her mouth is eager, her tongue sliding against mine, her kisses hot, demanding rather than asking, which fires me up. This is what I want—I want her to realize that it’s acceptable to concentrate on her own pleasure.

  I unclip her bra at the back, draw the straps down her arms, and let that drop. Then, still kissing her, I fill my palms with her breasts. The nipples are soft and velvety, and I tease the ends with my thumbs until they harden to beads, making her moan. The first time we slept together, she almost flinched when I touched her breasts, and I have a feeling her previous lovers have been too rough with her, so I made sure I was gentle; now, though, when I tug her nipples gently, she squirms against me and sinks her hands into my hair.

  Moving back, I take her hand and lead her up the stairs to the bedroom. Once there, I gesture to her jeans while I unbutton mine, and we both remove them. Immediately, her hands are on the hem of my tee, and she drags it up my body and over my head before dropping it to the floor.

  “Yes,” she says, her voice husky, splaying her hands on my chest. “You have such an amazing body, Marc.” She smooths her hands across my muscles, brushing her thumbs over my nipples.

  “Thank you.” I know I’m nothing special, but her compliment warms me.

  “Look at your arms.” She brings her hands over my shoulders and down to my biceps. “They’re so hard.”

  I chuckle. “That’s ’coz I’m a fella.”

  “No, I was right, you are a fine specimen.”

  “Are you trying to make me blush?” I maneuver her backward, toward the bed.

  “I like that you work with your hands sometimes. You’re intelligent and yet you also know how to fix a fence. It’s a perfect combination.”

  “Glad I can be of service.” I push her back so she falls onto the bed. “Move up.”

  She shuffles up the bed until her head is on the pillow, and I follow her on, kneeling between her legs. I hook my fingers into the elastic of her panties, draw them down her thighs, and remove them, then lean over her and look into her eyes.

  “Hello,” she says.

  “Hello.” I bend and kiss her. “Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?”

  “A little.” She lifts a knee and gently rubs it against my erection in the boxers.

  I lie on top of her and kiss her, and when she wraps her legs around my waist, I rock my hips, stroking my erection through her folds, and she groans.

  “That’s it,” I state, moving back and starting to kiss down her body. “I can’t wait any longer.” I stop to trace around her nipples with my tongue and suck them gently, then continue down, until I’m lying between her thighs. She covers her face with her hands as I push her thighs apart, exposing her to my gaze, and I bend my head and inhale her sweet, musky smell and sigh.

  “Argh. Marc!”

  “You smell amazing. I’m going to give you an orgasm with my mouth now. Just so you know.” I give a long, slow lick through her folds.

  “Mmm…” She sighs.

  Smiling, I part her with my hands, then begin to tease her with my tongue and fingers. She’s already on the way to being aroused, but within five minutes her folds are swollen and my fingers are covered with her moisture. All I’ve done is focus on licking her clit while I stroke her, but she’s sunk one hand into my hair, and her breathing has deepened as she fills the air with her sighs.

  For the first time, I slide two fingers deep inside her, curve them up, find the small swelling on the front wall of her vagina, and massage it gently while I continue to lick her. She moans and rocks her hips, and I know it’s not going to be long before she comes. This time I’m going to take her all the way, but I want it to be good, so I slow the movement of my fingers and lick her slowly, sliding my tongue down through her folds before returning to circle it over her clit.

  “Oh God,” she whispers, “Marc…”

  “Slowly,” I murmur. “Just let it happen.” Her clit is a hard button on my tongue, and I cover it with my mouth and suck gently as I carry on stroking inside her.

  “Oh…” Her hands tighten in my hair. “I can’t… I’m going to…”

  I suck harder, and she cries out and comes, tightening around my fingers, pulsing and clenching. I wait for her to finish, enjoying every second of her pleasure, and when she finally collapses back on the pillow, I withdraw my fingers, satisfied.

  I don’t stop kissing and touching her, though. I stroke her thighs, kiss up over her belly, and take my time to reach her breasts before I start paying them attention again. Poppy sighs, tracing her hand over my back as I rest beside her and kiss her nipples, and when I eventually get to her mouth and kiss her, she sinks her hand into my hair and happily returns each thrust of my tongue with one of her own.

  “Mmm,” she murmurs. “That felt so good.”

  “That was just a starter,” I tell her, rolling onto my back and pulling her toward me. “Now it’s time for round two.”

  *

  Poppy

  Marc’s relentless, still touching me, kissing me. My body is in a heightened state of arousal, and everything feels sensitive, as if he’d only have to breathe on me and I’d come again. I can’t believe it. I didn’t know it was possible to feel like this.

  He leaves me for a second to rid himself of his boxers, then pulls me on top of him, pushing me up so I’m sitting astride him.

  “You want me to be on top?” I ask.

  “I do.” The tip of his erection presses against my folds. “It’s your turn to do the hard work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want you to ride me,” he says. His eyelids have fallen to half-mast, and his expression is sultry, full of desire. “I want you to take your pleasure from me.”

  I’m not quite sure what he means, but I move back until he enters me, then sink down onto him. Ohhh… we both groan at the sensation of him being inside me. I rock my hips so he slides in and out. “Mmm.”

  “That’s it,” he says. Taking my right hand, he moves it down between my legs, then takes my other hand and moves it to my breast. “I want you to touch yourself the way you do when you’re alone. You’re going to make yourself come for me.”

  Heat fills my face. I�
��ve never done that with a man. I move both hands onto his chest. “I can’t do that.”

  He lifts his hands above his head and wraps his fingers around the slats of the headboard, giving me one of his sexy smiles. “Use me, Poppy. Come on. Show me that you understand your pleasure is yours to give and take.”

  I swallow hard. The way he’s lying, he looks as if he’s tied up. Ooh. Now there’s a fantasy I could get on board with.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he demands.

  “You look as if you’re tied up,” I whisper.

  “You like that idea?”

  I moisten my lips with the tip of my tongue and begin to move on top of him. “Yes.”

  “You’d like to tie my hands up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Keep me as your prisoner?” His lips curve up a little. He likes role-playing. I’ve never done it before, but his sultry eyes, his obvious desire, give me courage.

  “Yes,” I whisper, lowering a hand between us. I slide my fingers down, until I find my clit, and circle a finger over it. I feel exposed and vulnerable doing this in front of him, but his lips part and he swells inside me, and I can see it turns him on. “I’d like to chain you to my bed at home,” I tell him. “So you’re there for me at the end of the day.”

  “Waiting for you,” he says. “Just for you. Like a sex slave.”

  “Mmm.” Wow, what an amazing thought.

  “Tell me what you’d do with me,” he says.

  I moisten my lips again. “I’d come into the room, and I’d tell you it was time for me to… use you. Would you beg me to let you go?”

  “No.” His voice is husky now. “I’d have been waiting all day for that moment. I’d have been hard all day.”

  I close my eyes briefly, concentrating on the feel of him, so thick and hard inside me. When I push down, I can feel him stretching me erotically, ohhh… that’s so good… My finger swirls faster over my clit as I continue rocking my hips, forcing him to slide in and out.

  “How would you use me?” he murmurs. “Describe how.”

  “Like this.” I look down at where our bodies meet. “I’d climb on top of you and take you inside me. Or maybe I’d torture you a little with my mouth first.” I haven’t done that yet, but the thought of going down on him excites me.

  For the first time, it looks as if his self-control is slipping. “Hmm,” he says, closing his eyes for a moment. “You’d like that?”

  “I would. I’d like to taste you, Marc. But obviously, I couldn’t let you come in my mouth because you need to come inside me. I’d tell you off if you let yourself climax.”

  He opens his eyes again, his expression somewhat wry. “Would you now?”

  “I would.” I’m getting in the swing of it. I love this. Love that he’s encouraging me to play. He really likes giving me pleasure. He wants me to come before him, so he can make sure I’ve enjoyed it. He wants me to accept that I’m entitled to my own pleasure, and that I can request it from him before he takes his from me.

  “Show me how you’d use me,” he says.

  I begin to thrust harder, and, somewhat shyly, I lift my other hand to my breast and tease the nipple. It’s weird to do this with a man watching, but his gaze is so hot it turns me on, and I pluck it harder as the fingers of my right hand slip through my folds. “Like this,” I whisper, knowing I’m not far from coming again.

  “You’d fuck me,” he says. “Purely for your own enjoyment.”

  He loves to shock me. “Yes. You’re just here to serve me.” I suck my bottom lip. “Mmm…”

  “Aaahhh…” He’s struggling to stay calm now. “You feel so good.”

  “I don’t care,” I tell him, “you’re going to wait.”

  His lips curve up, even as he groans. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Oh that’s hot. “Just… wait… until… I’m ready…” I close my eyes. Pleasure is building deep inside me. I can’t believe I’m doing this—using this man, taking him like this and concentrating only on my own desire. I tighten inside at the erotic thought, and then I come, clamping around him, my fingers stilling as the pulses take my breath away, five, six, seven times. It’s such a beautiful feeling, made all the more wonderful by the gorgeous guy spread beneath me.

  When I eventually stop, I lean on his chest and gasp, looking into his eyes. “Mm,” I say.

  He groans and moves his hips beneath me. “Can I come now, ma’am?”

  I lick my lips and think about it for a moment. “Maybe. Have you been good?”

  He blows out a breath and gives me a helpless look.

  “I think I will make you come now,” I tell him as I start moving again, “because I want you to fill me up.”

  He closes his eyes, his brow furrowing. “I’ll do my best.”

  I bend and kiss him, dipping my tongue into his mouth. “Mmm… yes… come for me, I want to give you pleasure, I want to make you feel good…”

  He lets go of the headboard and drops his arms to stroke down my back, then holds my hips for the final few thrusts before he buries himself deep inside me. I watch him, loving being able to see each spasm of pleasure on his face, and I capture his groans as I close my mouth over his and kiss him.

  Oh God, I think that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever done. This guy is going to drive me insane with lust. He’s trying to turn me into a nymphomaniac. I’m never going to be the same again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Poppy

  By six-thirty, we’re at the Golden Dragon, meeting the gang at the Ark for a Chinese meal. Hemi and Sally have brought their partners, and the eight of us order a set meal and a round of Tiger beer to go with it.

  Marc sits beside me, and he’s quiet for a while, listening but not really joining in with the conversation. I glance at him, wondering whether it’s to do with what happened in the bedroom. He’d looked as if he was enjoying it, but maybe he’d expected me to act in a different way, and I’d surprised or upset him. I can never tell.

  He smiles at me, though, and he nudges my knee with his beneath the table, so I think he’s okay.

  It’s odd being with people and the two of us being together, but not together. I want to lean against him, to have him put his arm around me, to show my affection for him, the way Sally is kissing her husband on the cheek in front of everyone. But I can’t. It strikes me then what a bizarre agreement we have. It’s almost like the scenario we enacted in the bedroom. He’s servicing me, trying to get me pregnant. I’m treating him like a living, breathing sperm bank. He agreed to it, and I’m paying him for it, but maybe he’s more upset about the arrangement than I thought.

  I feel a tad resentful. It wasn’t my idea to sleep together. I told him I wouldn’t be interested in a relationship at the end. And I’m still not. I like him—of course I do, more than I thought I would. And it’s not because he gives me multiple orgasms. Okay, it’s not just because he gives me multiple orgasms. He’s tender and gentle, although I’m beginning to realize he has a wicked streak hidden beneath that. He hid it well, no doubt because he thought it would be too much for me, but I have a feeling that, given time and opportunity, Marc Fitzgerald could be a very naughty boy.

  I shift in the chair, trying not to think about our adventure in bed that afternoon. I can’t let myself get distracted. Because if I think about it—if I really think about having a relationship with him, about going to bed with him every night, about letting him do all those things to me on a regular basis, and more—I’m going to fall for him, and that’ll be akin to taking a saw to my ribcage and opening up my ribs to give him access to my squidgy heart. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to give someone that kind of power over me again.

  No, this is just about sex. About getting pregnant, and nothing more. And if he’s upset about it, well, he should have done something in a cup, as he so delicately put it.

  The meal arrives—numerous wonderful dishes of noodles and rice, sticky chicken and Szechuan beef, stir-fried pork and crispy du
ck, and we all tuck in. I relax a little, enjoying the food.

  “This is so good,” I tell the others, taking a second helping of rice and chicken. “I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.”

  “That’s what you get when you work up an appetite,” Marc says.

  I stop with my chopsticks halfway to my mouth. Sally meets my gaze and then hastily drops hers, trying not to laugh. Hemi snorts, and his wife elbows him in the ribs. Ashton just grins.

  I glare at Marc, but he’s busy answering his mobile, which I can feel buzzing in his jeans where his thigh is close to mine. He takes it out and checks the screen, says, “Excuse me, I need to take this,” gives me an amused look, and leaves the table, walking out of the restaurant and into the mall as he answers the call.

  I look back at the others, decide humor is the best way to deal with this, and gesture at them with my chopsticks. “You can all stop smirking. He meant the visit I paid to the petting farm today.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Sally says. “He can’t keep his eyes off you. It’s quite romantic, really.”

  I blush and poke the chicken with the chopsticks. “I don’t know about that,” I mumble.

  “What’s the deal with Mel at the Riverbank?” Ashton asks out of the blue. “She seemed shaken to see him this afternoon, and Fitz went even more monosyllabic than he usually is when she turned up.”

  I hesitate—Marc obviously didn’t tell him about their relationship, and I don’t want to betray his confidence. Equally, we’re working closely with these people, and Ashton looks genuinely perturbed.

  “She’s his ex,” I tell him. “They broke up about five years ago.”

  All their eyebrows rise, and Sally exclaims, “Seriously? You mean Mel Fanshaw?”

  “I don’t know her surname, but he said he saw her today. Blonde bob. Pregnant.”

  “Holy shit,” Ashton says. “No wonder both of them looked upset.”

  I move the noodles around the bowl, pretending to look for chicken, but in truth I’ve lost my appetite. I don’t want to think about Marc being cut up over losing someone else. It gives me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach.