Naima Simone - Black Tie Billionaire

But just as she reached for him, an implacable grip circled her wrist, stilling her frantic movements.

“Not yet, moonbeam.” He lifted one of her arms and placed an openmouthed kiss to the center of her palm, the resulting feeling radiating straight to her damp, quivering sex. With a quick crush of his lips to hers, he swiftly divested her of her remaining clothes and shoes, leaving her trembling and naked before him, except for the decidedly un sexy plain, black panties.

A burst of self-consciousness flared inside her chest, and she fought not to edge backward, away from the weak glow of the cell phone’s light. But as if he’d read her intentions, Gideon cupped her hip, preempting any movement she might’ve made to hide.

“When a man stands before beauty like yours, there’s only one position he’s supposed to be in,” he murmured. Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees, tipping his head back to continue to meet her gaze. “You deserve to be worshipped.” He swept his lips across her stomach. “And pleasured.” Another sweep, but over the top of her sex. Heat coiled tight, and her core clenched at the tantalizing caress. “Give me permission to give you that.”

It might’ve emerged as an order, but he wouldn’t continue without her go-ahead. She somehow knew that.

“Yes,” she breathed, tunneling her fingers through his hair. Holding on tight.

With a deliberate pace that had her internally screaming, he drew her underwear down her legs and helped her step free of them. Big, elegant hands brushed up her calves and thighs, and once more she wondered at the calluses adding a hint of roughness to the caress. But then she ceased thinking at all.

“Gideon,” she cried out, fisting his hair, trying to pull him away or tug him closer—she didn’t know. Couldn’t decide. Not when pleasure unlike anything she’d ever experienced struck her with great bolts of lightning. Jesus, his lips, his tongue... They were voracious. Feasting on her, leaving no part of her unexplored, untouched. Long, luxurious swirls, decadent and wicked laps and sucks... He drove her insane with pleasure.

Just as he’d promised. Just as he’d assured her she deserved.

He spread her wider, hooking her leg over one of his wide shoulders, granting himself easier access. Like a ravenous beast, he growled against her sensitive, wet sex, and the vibration shoved her closer to the edge of release.

“You’re so fucking sweet,” he rasped, nuzzling her. “So fucking sweet and pure. A man could get addicted to you. But you have more to give me, don’t you, baby? I’m a greedy bastard, and I want it all.” He uttered the last words almost as if to himself, and with one palm molded to her behind, he dragged the other up the inside of her spread thighs.

Then he was filling her. Two fingers plunged inside her, and like a match struck to dry kindling, she sparked, flared, exploded into flames. Dimly, she caught his rough encouragement of “That’s it, baby. That’s it.” She loosened a hand from his hair and clapped it over her lips, muffling her cries as she came against his mouth, her hips rolling and jerking.

Raw, dirty ecstasy, stripped to its barest essentials. That’s who she’d become in this moment as he lapped up every evidence of her desire from her flesh, from the insides of her thighs.

“Please,” she begged, weakly pushing his head away as he circled her with tender but relentless strokes. “I can’t.”

“That’s nothing but a challenge to me, moonbeam,” he rumbled, standing, his mouth damp. But when he lowered his head and took her lips in a torrid kiss that replicated how he’d just consumed her, she didn’t back away from the flavor of herself on his lips and tongue. No, she opened wider to him, turned on so bright it ached.

Palming the back of her thighs, he hiked her in the air. On reflex she wound her legs around his waist. He crossed to the couch, and with each bump of her swollen, sensitive core against his stomach, that recently satiated heat flickered back to life, and she moaned with each caress.

Her back met the cushions, and Gideon towered over her, half his face cast in shadow. That obsidian gaze never left hers as he removed a thin wallet from his pants pocket and withdrew a condom. He tossed it down, next to her feet, and then she watched, enraptured, as he stripped off his clothes. Her breath snagged in her throat. Jesus . He’d been stunning in a perfectly tailored tuxedo. But naked, the trappings torn away, all that thick, midnight hair falling around his face and broad shoulders... He was magnificent . Long legs, powerful thighs... Good God, she’d felt him, but seeing him... Like the rest of him, his erection was proud, beautiful. Perfect.

As if of their own volition, her arms lifted, beckoning him to her. He tore open the foil square and sheathed himself then came to her, moving the cell phone to the floor next to them. His hard body covered hers, and a sigh escaped her at the contact. For a second, she couldn’t smother the sense of never having felt so cherished, so protected.

“Ready, moonbeam?” he murmured, raising off her slightly. Grasping her hand in his, he brought it between their bodies. As he’d done earlier, he wrapped her fingers around his thick length. “Show me,” he ordered, planting his palms on either side of her head, granting her control.

Even if she harbored the smallest seed of doubt about this illicit encounter in the dark—which she didn’t—his gesture would’ve eradicated it. Her chest tightened, her heart thudding against her rib cage. But her hand was steady as she guided him to her entrance. Shifting her palm to his taut behind, she pushed as she lifted her hips, taking him inside. Fully. Widening her thighs, she didn’t stop until he was buried within her.

She gasped, a ripple rocking her body. God, he was everywhere . Over her, around her, inside her. So deep inside her. The weight and length of him stretched her, burned her, and she flexed against him, her flesh struggling to accommodate the sweet invasion.

His eyes closed, and he bowed his head, pressing his forehead to hers, his breath pulsing over her lips. Tension vibrated through him, strained the muscles in his arms, stilled his large frame. Long moments later, he lifted his head, and the effort to hold back was etched onto his features.

“Gideon,” she whispered, waiting until he lifted his ridiculously dense lashes to meet her eyes. “Let go.”

As if those two words sliced through the last threads of his restraint, he groaned and lost it.

On the tail of another of those sexy snarls, he dragged his erection free, lighting up nerve endings like an airport runway, before snapping his hips and thrusting back inside her. Driving her breath from her lungs and a wail of pleasure from her throat.

Oh God. She wasn’t going to survive this.

Pleasure inundated her as he plunged into her body. Over and over, relentlessly. He hooked an arm under her leg, tugging it higher and impossibly wider. With a choked cry, she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on, a willing sacrifice to his possession. He rode her, wild and untethered, giving her no quarter. Not that she asked for any. She loved it. Every roll of his hips, every slap of flesh against flesh, every rake of his teeth over her shoulder.

In his arms, under his body, she transformed into a sexual creature who lived, breathed for him, for the ecstasy only he could give.

Electric pulses crackled down her back, sizzling at the base of her spine. Every thrust intensified the sensation. When he slid a hand between them and rubbed her, an avalanche of pleasure rushed toward her, burying her, stealing her consciousness. But not before Gideon stiffened above her, his deep, tortured groan echoing in her ear, rumbling against her chest.