Emilie Rose - Pregnant on the Upper East Side? / The Billionaire in Penthouse B - Pregnant on the Upper East Side?

The nip of his teeth on her neck cut off her thoughts. She arched into his touch, relishing each stroke of his fingers until she teetered on the edge of release and she would need more than just his hand.

He had on too many clothes. The supple skin of his back goose-bumped beneath the light rake of her nails. His buttocks clenched under her caress. She dragged her fingers around the inside of his belt, opened the buckle and lowered his zipper. Impatient to pleasure him as he was her, she shoved his pants and briefs over his hips and curled her fingers around his erection. His hot, silky flesh thickened and pulsed with the stroke of her hand.

Alex broke the kiss on a hissed inhalation and withdrew a condom from his pocket before letting his pants fall to the floor.

Striving for mental distance, she nodded to the packet in his hand. “You keep those on you at all times, huh?”

“When I’m with you, yes. Otherwise, no. I’m too old to think like a kid who’s always prepared on the off chance he might get lucky.”

Not what she wanted to hear. That made him sound as if he weren’t a player. She reminded herself they had only thirteen days left. Less than two weeks to gorge herself on Alex’s talent in bed, the shower, the hot tub, or in the kitchen, as the case may be tonight. And then she would quit him cold turkey. Part of her wanted to store up as much sexual satisfaction as she could until then. Another part warned her to pull back now before she became as addicted to this man as she was to Park Café’s chocolate muffins.

Her needy, demanding side won the argument. She curled her fingers around his nape, threaded them through his hair and pulled him forward for another kiss. Alex didn’t hesitate to step up to the plate. You had to like a man who was confident enough not to be threatened when a woman turned aggressive.

He let her set the tone for the kiss. Or maybe he was just as desperate and edgy and needy as she was. Their teeth clashed. Their noses bumped. But his soft lips, slick tongue and dexterous hands kept her fire stoked.

One corner of her mind heard the condom wrapper tear. A tiny part realized he was taking care of protection, but her pulse roared when he grasped her hips, dug his fingers into her bottom, and pulled her to the edge of the high stool.

He nudged her entrance, slicking his tip in her moisture, and then he thrust forward. She tore her mouth from his to gasp as he filled her. When he withdrew, she dug her nails into his buttocks and pulled him back. He slid deep again and withdrew over and over. His teeth nipped her neck, making her gasp as a shock of longing bolted through her. She tilted her head to grant him better access.

Her pleasure built, fueled by his thumb circling her center. She wound her legs around his hips, savored the steam of his breath on her neck, her jaw, her cheek. And then orgasm reverberated through her like blasts from a bass speaker, making her body pulse and contract.

Alex’s hands tightened on her bottom, his tempo increased and his mouth covered hers in a desperate, edgy kiss. His groan filled her mouth as he stiffened with his own release.

Every cell in her body felt alive and aware of this man and of this moment. Why hadn’t any other man ever felt this good or made her feel this good?

It wasn’t fair that she’d finally found one who rocked her world. And she couldn’t keep him. He was too much a part of that restrictive world she’d grown up in.

The one in which she’d never fit.

A cell phone jarred Amanda from sleep. She rolled over and blindly, groggily slapped around the nightstand until her fingers closed around the device. She fumbled it open.

“Hello.” Cracking an eyelid, she looked at her digital clock. Five-thirty. Who would be calling at this ungodly hour on a Monday morning?

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