Obsessed Heir (Billionaire Heirs #4)

Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Abigail

I ’m floating on a cloud of pleasure, experiencing a man’s touch for the first time. In my dream, Barron’s playing with my breast, pinching and rolling the taut nipple until I can’t quite lie still. It’s so vividly real I can feel the heat of his mouth as he closes his lips over the pebbled tip and suckles. Wait…

I crack an eye open, squinting against the sunshine filling the room. Barron’s head is really bowed over me, his mouth latched onto my bare breast. Oh my God. It’s not a dream… It’s as real and deliciously wicked as everything we did last night.

I’m in his bed, the rumpled sheets tangled around my legs, the scorching warmth of his muscled body against mine. His very naked, aroused body, if the rigid length pressed into my thigh is any indication.

He yanks at the seam on the flimsy, shredded Maiden’s dress’s one remaining cup, baring my other breast. A startled gasp escapes me as the sheer cotton tears away.

“You’re awake,” he growls in that deep, lazy bedroom voice, dropping the scrap of ruined fabric to expose my breast fully to his roaming gaze.

A shiver of nervous anticipation races through me.

“Um.” I scramble for some way to get out of this situation. “Yes. I-I need to...” I lose my train of thought as his head dips lower and he sweeps his tongue along the curve of the breast he just bared. “Oh Lord.”

The pleasurable sting of his teeth nibbling at my sensitive peak makes my toes curl against his hard calf.

His hand trails a blazing path down my chest, raising goose bumps across my skin. When he reaches my tummy, he loses contact where the ruined dress is bunched up at my waist.

Heat floods my face. I’m sprawled naked from the waist down, exposing my most intimate places to his hungry stare, and he has a bird’s-eye view of everything.

Shifting my hips, I try to lean away, pressing myself deeper into the mattress as I bring my trembling thighs together. Or at least try to. Barron’s powerful leg is thrown possessively over my knee, keeping me trapped and spread open to his continued exploration.

He’s hovering at the juncture of my thighs, tracing circles along my pelvis. I set my teeth on my lower lip, clenching my inner muscles in anticipation of his intimate touch. The vivid memories of the things he did yesterday still have me squirming inside.

Roaming fingertips finally reach the smooth, sensitive skin of my mound. My hips buck in reaction to the exquisite contact.

He hooks my calf, parting my legs wider, allowing him to explore me. My back arches off the bed as his fingers dip between my swollen folds and caress the bud at the top.

A shudder runs up my body with the new, overwhelming sensations. I’d never imagined being so bare and exposed would amplify every caress and stroke to this degree. Then again, I’d never had a man touch me so intimately before Barron. Dear Lord.

I catch the ghost of a satisfied, masculine smirk curving those full lips as they trail along my breast. That wicked tongue flicks at my tight peak. He draws the swollen tip deeper into his mouth as he swirls his fingertip in maddening circles around my clit.

I’m ruled by these new, intoxicating sensations assaulting me from every angle, my body arching, reacting shamelessly before my brain can even register what he’s doing.

I wind my fingers through his hair, tugging reflexively.

“Barron…” Is that desperate, wanton sound my own strangled voice? “I need to?—”

“To what?” The rough timbre of his voice against my skin makes me shiver.

“I need to…to check on Miss Opal,” I somehow manage to reply, hoping to appeal to his concern for his mother. It’s a transparent excuse, but the only thought that comes to mind through the haze of lust fogging my brain.

“Then we’ll make this quick.” His knee pushes harder against mine, widening the spread of my thighs as he switches positions, shifting over me.

“Barron—” My mistake is letting my gaze turn downward, over the spectacular body looming over me. The broad, sculpted shoulders and chest, those sharply defined abdominal muscles disappearing into the crisp trail of hair below his navel. Then there’s the thick shaft jutting away from his body. I’m stunned to silence at the primal sight of Barron, naked and aroused.

Meanwhile, he takes full advantage of the opportunity to claim the space he’s made between my thighs.

“No, not a quick one,” I mumble, dazed by his impressive length.

His cock presses against my entrance, creating a dull ache as he sinks in. His mouth crashes over mine in a rough, possessive kiss, swallowing my gasp of pleasure as he fills me.

Barron pulls back, bracing his forearms on either side of my head. “Okay,” he says, giving me a villainous grin. Then he shifts his hips, burying himself deep inside me. “Not a quick one.” He lowers his head to nuzzle the sensitive column of my neck.

My aching nipples are pebbled against his chest as he moves in long, deep strokes that have me clawing at the solid muscles of his back. So good. Yet so different from last night. Each time was sensationally different yet overwhelming in its own way.

I never expected to lose my virginity while a man had me pinned against the wall. Then to have him move us to this very bed for an encore. The second time, he took me in long, relentless thrusts that seemed so much more intimate than being in his bedroom.

Both times he was reckless, unconcerned with protection or consequences. The stark realization is like a bucket of ice water over my lust-hazed mind. My first time out and it’s unprotected sex.

That knocked away some of the fog from my mind.

“You can’t come inside me, Barron,” I suddenly blurt out, panic lacing my tone. What was I thinking? What was he thinking?

The rake of his sharp teeth against my earlobe makes me whimper. His breath fans out to raise gooseflesh over my neck, then his tongue blazes a path right below my ear. Another wave of heat engulfs me, leaving me at his mercy.

“If you keep tightening that hot little cunt around me like that, this is going to end up quick after all.” He emphasizes the crude vow with a rough grind of his hips.

My muffled groan of protest is met with a throaty chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. He captures my lips again in a scorching, devouring kiss as his thrusts become quicker, deeper, pushing me up to the peak again.

I never imagined something could feel so good. I run my hands up his back; my fingers curl reflexively into the bunched cords of muscle as the sounds of obscenely wet strokes fill the air.

“Such a sweet, tight little pussy,” Barron groans against my swollen lips between rough, panting breaths. “And that fucking taste…”

“I can’t believe you.” If his goal was to have me remember the way he put his fingers in his mouth after making me come yesterday, he’s succeeded. While I was beyond embarrassed at the time, the vivid memory is so hot. Sooo damn hot. It’s enough to push me over the edge, into a fantastic, wild orgasm.

Barron’s pounding into me as my body reacts, contracting my muscles in an involuntary reaction. He sucks in a breath, a loud sizzle by my ear as his shoulders hunch.

“Fuck.” Every muscle goes tense. His hips buck, trying to go deeper as his body shudders.

“Barron,” I wail, but it’s too late. The damage, so to speak, is done. “You came inside me again.”

I don’t want to think about the possibility of consequences. Even if by some miracle I was able to get him off me, the intensity of the moment makes any chance of avoiding pregnancy slim to none. I don’t know what that would mean. Having a child isn’t anywhere in my plans.

Good God. How would I begin to explain this to Miss Opal?

I realize your son hates me, but somehow we ended up having wild, unprotected monkey sex against the wall, and now you’re going to be a grandma.

What’s worse is the beginning of that statement. Y our son hates me. I struggle with a knot forming at my throat.

Yesterday, I was mortified at the fact I let him finger me to orgasm. What about now? I can only be grateful nobody knows this happened.