Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (139 page)

She didn’t see him heel-and-toe off his shoes and socks, but he must have done so because when he dropped his slacks and boxers, he stood bare before her. Her heart performed a rather passable jeté as he sank to his knees and tugged her forward.

Henry lifted her legs around his shoulders, eyes glinting as he bent to press his mouth to her her drenched sex. Despite the monumental orgasm that had swept through her only a few minutes ago, the touch of his hot mouth on her pussy sent a shard of pleasure deep into her gut.

“Henry, God!” Sophie moaned, the muscles of her belly tightening as she leaned up on her elbows to watch him. He met her gaze, rubbing his open mouth back and forth against the slick lips of her slit. He licked his lips, nuzzling his chin against her inner thigh.

“I want to make you feel good, mia bella Sophie.”

His voice was thick, his gaze dark and intense. And there was so much to his words. He was bad for her, he’d said. He’d only hurt her. He’d sounded like he really believed that. Was he trying to prove, perhaps to both of them, that he could do better than that?

She brushed her fingers lightly against his cheek, his lips, his hair. “You do, Henry.”

There was a tender fierceness in his gaze as he pressed a kiss to her mound. Then his tongue snaked out to lap at her, pushing wet heat against her clit and lower, into the satin clutch of her swollen passage.

Sophie fell back on the cot, arching, her fingers tightening in his hair. She lifted her hips, urging him against her reawakened flesh.

He nibbled and sucked, his mouth insistent as he once again drove her back up to pulsing, writhing peaks of pleasure. His hands weren’t still either, roaming her body while he worked between her thighs. He stroked and caressed her breasts, tugging her nipples until she cried out at the tingling bolts of sensation this sent into her womb.

As she grew more frantic, rubbing and pressing herself against his mouth, so too did his ministrations. He kneaded her hips and belly before sliding his grip down beneath her ass, lifting her to his wicked mouth. His tongue speared inside her, pushing and sliding, deliciously hot and the tiniest bit rough against her tender tissues.

Henry pulled her clit between his lips and pressed, sucking, tipping her over the edge.

Golden, sparkling pulses of pleasure cascaded through Sophie like the finale of a fireworks show, exploding behind her eyes and between her thighs.

This time she was aware of calling out her love for Henry, unable to contain the words when he had made her feel this way. He responded with a feral growl, dragging his mouth over her belly as he crawled quickly up her body, his movements strong and powerful, like a great cat.

He took her mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue demanding against hers. He tasted of her, his lips and face still warm and damp with her juices. Sophie wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, squeezing him tightly as she curled her legs around his waist.

“Tesoro,” he murmured, nipping her lip, and then slipped into her with one slow, deep push. His cock was thick and hot and pulsing inside her. Sophie clung to him, trembling at the sensation of being filled, stretched, completed. Henry’s broad palms cradled her head, his eyes glittering. He didn’t move, just held himself within her.

And then his eyes drifted closed and he sighed, his voice ragged. Sophie wasn’t sure she caught all of his whispered words then, though she wouldn’t know what “desidero che potrei rimanere qui per sempre” meant either way.

Still, she cupped his face between her palms and kissed his mouth. “I love you, Henry Medina.”

He moved then, the urgency of their earlier joining gone, though none of the intensity was. They didn’t speak anymore, not out loud. But Henry watched her face as he rocked into her, pressing her down into the cot. The metal legs shifted and squeaked beneath their weight, but Sophie didn’t care.

She held him against her heart, urged him with the press of her ankles against the small of his flexing back, the stroke of her hands against his shoulders. She met each thrust with an arch of her own, shivering with the fierce tingling of each glide of his cock inside her, the friction hot and delicious.

Her fingernails dug into the sweat slick skin of his muscled arms as pleasure expanded within her yet again, pushing outward from beneath her skin like a bubble. Her breath was a ragged pant, her breasts rubbing against the wiry mat of Henry’s chest hair.

He slid his arms beneath her, lifting her against him, his hold tight. He surrounded her, filled not only her body, but all her senses; the spicy scent of his skin, rasp of his breath, the wet slide of his cock, his dark eyes burning into hers, the intoxicating taste of his mouth as he took hers in a passionate kiss. Sophie felt as if there wasn’t a single inch of her self, inside or out, that Henry wasn’t touching. It was beautiful and perfect.

Tears stung her eyes, slipping from beneath her lids as her eyes fluttered closed and she was swept beneath the tide of overwhelming pleasure as Henry made her come again. She cried out, arching hard against him, fingers digging into his shoulders, legs squeezing as her pussy clamped down on his shaft.

This time, Henry came with her. His groan sounded wrenched from deep within him as he drove his cock into her, pressing his pubic bone tight to hers as he twitched and jerked. Sophie felt the swell and pulse of his flesh within her and the warm rush of his seed filling her. She shuddered, more tears wetting her cheeks as even more pleasure rippled through her at the slick heat of it.

Henry pressed his forehead hard to hers, his breath warm on her damp skin as he, too, shuddered with his release. His weight bore down on her, but Sophie didn’t care. She tightened her arms and legs around him, holding him there, not wanting him to move, to leave her.

Beneath them, the metal legs of the cot gave a squealing groan, but they didn’t collapse. Henry chuckled softly. “That’s some quality craftsmanship.”

“Seriously,” Sophie huffed a laugh. “I’m impressed.”

His lips touched the arch of her brow, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Sophie sighed. She knew they still needed to talk. They hadn’t exactly finished their conversation earlier. They’d gotten sidetracked.

With delightful results, admittedly. But still. She stroked the long muscles of his back, trailing her fingertips along the bumps of his spine. Henry exhaled softly, his breath brushing softly across her throat and the tops of her breasts.

“Sophie, I...” He trailed off, swallowing, his eyes on her face. Just as she had earlier at the party, Sophie pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing him.

“There are things we still need to discuss. I know.”

Henry nodded and then dropped his forehead to her collarbone. “There is so much... Sophie, I want to tell you about the company and my father and Nicole –”

“Um, can we not talk about
her
when we’re,” she wriggled her hips beneath him and felt the slight twitch of his still semi-hard cock inside her, “like
this
? Please?”

Henry chuckled. “Okay. Though, we do need to talk. About a lot. You were right about some of the things you said, but...” He lifted his head and met her eyes. “Sophie, I need to think.”

She felt a small bubble of coldness bloom in her heart. She had thought she’d understood what he’d been saying, without words, while he made love to her. But perhaps she’d been wrong. Maybe this was just a ‘goodbye’ fuck. She almost winced in pain at the thought.

It must have shown on her face, because Henry’s hands cupped her head and squeezed gently. “Not like that. I’m saying this all wrong. Tonight has been...” He shook his head and then brushed her lips with his. “Overwhelming. All I’m saying is I need a little time to process everything before we have this talk. Do you understand?”

Sophie swallowed, trying to push the fear from her heart and mind. He was making sense. She had dumped a lot in his lap, showing up at the party out of the blue and throwing herself in Jorge and Nicole’s face, blowing up at Henry, proclaiming her love. He had a right to feel overwhelmed, and every right to ask for some time to process it.

Time didn’t mean he was rejecting her. She had to remember what she’d just felt in his arms. Sophie forced herself to meet Henry’s eye, give him a smile, and nod. “Of course. Why don’t we... maybe we can do lunch in a day or so. Once you’ve had time to think.”

She fluttered her lashes, trying to ignore the sting of tears at the back of her nose. She released his shoulders and began wriggling, trying to shift him off of her so she could get up and get dressed.

Henry’s arms tightened around her. “If you keep doing that we’ll never get back to my apartment.”

“W-what?” Sophie stilled. Henry released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The corners of his mouth ticked upward.

“You can be in the room while I think, Sophie. It’s getting late, and I’m sure you must be as exhausted as I am. Come back to my place. Stay with me. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Sophie felt her eyes widen as his words sank in. She’d thought he was asking her to leave him alone for awhile, but he was asking her to spend the night with him. Not that she hadn’t done that in the past, but he’d never asked her to.

Her breath caught in her throat. He wanted to talk. He wanted to open up to her, he’d said as much. And he wanted her near him. Surely, those were all good signs. Perhaps she hadn’t misread the silent messages his body had been sending her all night.

“Okay.” The word was barely a breath. It was all she had, because the warm glow of invitation in Henry’s eyes and the curve of his mouth had stolen the rest. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Twenty-four

The first pink light of dawn touching the New York City skyline woke Sophie in the morning.

She stretched, reveling in the sweet ache in her muscles. Henry had brought her to the penthouse last night, and they’d made love again, his big, hard body cradling hers as he spooned her, moving so deliciously slowly that her orgasm had seeped into her like warm water sinking into sand.

He’d breathed her name in her ear as he’d come, shaking against her back as he poured into her. His body had relaxed then and they’d both drifted off to sleep in minutes, still tangled together.

She was alone in the acres of bed now, though. Sophie had never known anyone who rose earlier than she did, but Henry was always up before her. Or, at least, he had been every night she’d spent here.

Which brought to mind her other mornings here at Henry’s. Would she leave the building crying again today?

Sophie knew it was a possibility. If Henry decided he wasn’t willing to open up, to take this risk for the chance of something more, it would break her heart. Now that she’d admitted she loved him...

No. Sophie refused to borrow trouble. She swung herself out bed, shivering a little as the cool air struck her naked body. Once again, when she glanced around the richly appointed room, there were no signs of her clothes. There was no way a maid had come in while they were sleeping. Not this early.

Had Henry put them somewhere? Last time he’d left her clothes in the bathroom. She hurried in that direction, wanting to see him again. She wished he’d been there when she woke. It would be nice to see Henry, face relaxed and sleepy, dark hair mussed. Her heart thumped at the image and her pussy gave a twinge of appreciation.

“Down girl,” she muttered with a chuckle. She’d think after the multiple, mind-bending orgasms Henry had given her last night that she’d be sated for at least a day. Apparently not. When it came to him, she was insatiable.

Her clothes were folded neatly on the bench beside the shower. Only, they weren’t her clothes. Sophie frowned. They were, actually, just not her clothes from last night. The black, stretchy pants were identical, but the t-shirt was white, emblazoned with the words ‘I Should Have a Follow Spot’.

It was the t-shirt she’d worn the first time she’d spent the night at Henry’s. That time, she’d shed it in the small parlor off his bedroom and the maid had gathered it up before she woke. Henry had promised to return it to her, but in all the drama that followed, she’d completely forgotten about it.

She fingered the soft fabric now. So much had happened since that night. Then, her biggest concern had been her knee. Now, she stood in almost the exact same place and was much more worried about her heart.

The shower beckoned, and Sophie climbed inside, enjoying the warm water pouring over her skin. Her back felt a little raw, and remembering the encounter on the cot, she shivered. The man who had made love to her on the cot in her studio loved her back. Sophie was sure of it.

Almost sure.

She dried quickly and put on her clean clothes. She looked younger than she was in the slightly oversized t-shirt with her hair wet around her shoulders. Despite her unease, Sophie could see the light of pleasure and happiness still burning behind her eyes. She smiled at her reflection and set out to find Henry.

He wasn’t in the small parlor. A paperback was open on one of the low tables though, the spine slightly creased. Sophie ran her fingers across the cover. It was a book by Isabel Allende. Sophie had read it once on a train through Budapest. Did Henry find the rich description as enamoring as she did?

Sophie bit her lip, wanting the opportunity to ask him, to sit across a dinner table perhaps and discuss books or movies or anything. They’d had very little normal between them in the brief course of their relationship.

“Henry?” She poked her head out onto the terrace, taking a deep breath of early morning air, still tasting slightly chilly. He wasn’t there either.

She didn’t bother doing more than peeking into the other bedrooms. Each was decorated in a slightly different style. They all boasted the same rich elegance, and subdued wealth, as Henry’s room, though not quite on the same grand scale.

There was a library that Sophie could have lost herself in for days. She eyed the floor to ceiling shelves stuffed full of volumes with undisguised longing, but the room was empty. It was clear Henry spent at least some time here, at least. A leather wingback was arranged with a view of the thin window, and the small end table beside it was covered in several folded newspapers and magazines. An empty tumbler weighted them all down.