Twin Babies with the Billionaire for Christmas

2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Rachel

He would live in the penthouse apartment of a swanky building with a view of the water.

As we ride the elevator up to his floor, my stomach flip-flops nervously.

I feel torn between delight that this exciting, intriguing, and wild thing is happening to me, and terror about what it might mean in the morning.

He’s about to be a client —Mr. Not my Boss — for God’s sake, and here I am heading to his place to fuck him.

“Penny, for your thoughts?” he asks as he swipes his access card, and the elevator travels up one more floor.

“They’d cost you way more than a penny,” I retort, and he laughs. The sound makes my heart pound in my chest, and my core grow wetter.

“I’ll find out the going rate when you send that contract,” he replies with another chuckle. He reaches back for my hand and then tugs me into his apartment with a sharp yank.

I fetch up against his chest with a gasp, and I realize that he’s been hiding a raging hard-on in his bespoke slacks. I hear someone moan and realize that it’s me.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment I saw you,” he says roughly, before his mouth comes down on mine.

The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s demanding and fierce. My lips already feel bruised as I open under the onslaught and tangle my tongue with his.

He slips his hand into my hair and pulls my head back so that he can trail kisses down the column of my neck.

He brings his lips back to mine, kissing me more slowly, allowing me to set the pace. Abruptly, he scoops me up off the floor. My legs wrap around his waist by instinct, and he carries me across the huge living room to the giant floor-to-ceiling windows that take up the far wall.

He starts stripping my clothing off—leaving nothing but my black heels—interspersing his efforts with kisses on my exposed skin. A kiss on my shoulder, a nip on the slope of my breast, a flick of his tongue over my firm belly.

I writhe and twist, the pleasure invasive, greedy, and glorious.

“Your breasts are magnificent,” he says softly, reaching up with both hands to cup them gently.

He leans forward to suck my nipple into his mouth, and I stumble back against the cool glass of the windows with a gasp. My head lolls back against the hard surface behind me as he moves his mouth to my other breast, sucking and teasing.

My hands come up to tangle in his thick, dark hair, and he utters a growl that I feel all the way to my core.

“You have too many clothes on,” I manage to say between panting breaths.

He laughs lightly, but he steps back. “Take them off, then,” he says to me, holding out his arms.

I hesitate, the cold of the windows against my bare skin making goosebumps prickle all over me. I’ve always chosen to sleep with men who take what they want and don’t ask for input.

I can’t remember a time that I’ve been invited to make any decisions in the bedroom.

I swallow hard. Courage , I tell myself. This is something you are doing for you .

I take a wobbly step forward in my high heels, and I see that same flash of need in his golden-brown eyes. It spurs me on with new confidence, and I wiggle my ass sexily as I mince over to him and start removing his custom suit, one piece at a time.

I slide the form-fitting coat off his broad shoulders, running the flat of my hand across his muscular back. His button-up shirt is still acting as a thin barrier.

I lean against him from behind, running my hands over his flat stomach, using the buttons of his shirt as a guide to find his belt buckle. I work it loose and then step around him to yank it free from his slacks.

I think about the last erotic novel I read, and I coil the belt in my hand, slapping it lightly against my open palm as I walk around him. This is so out of character for me that it feels like an out-of-body experience, but I’m loving it.

I circle him slowly, then reach out with the belt to slap him on the ass. He sucks in a breath, but he doesn’t move.

“You should apologize to me for bullying me into writing for you,” I say to him firmly as I walk around to face him again. I lean forward, feeling the weight of my breasts as they move with me. I glance up as I start to unbutton his shirt to see his smoldering gaze trained on my chest.

“I should?” he says to me, that arrogance back in his tone.

I yank the shirt from his slacks and then press it back over his shoulder, pinning his arms back with it. “Yes,” I assert, leaning in to kiss him. He starts to reach for me, but I step away, pressing a finger to his lips. “Patience,” I say to him sternly. “No one asked you to do anything yet.”

A smile slowly curls across his lips, and he nods at me. “I can be patient.”

“Can you?” I ask coyly, reaching down to unbutton his slacks. I allow them to fall to the floor, and then I make another circle around him, running my finger along his skin just under the elastic of his boxer briefs.

“I think you’re used to getting what you want all the time,” I announce to him as I come around to face him again. I bring up my other hand and pull down his underwear, allowing his heavy erection to spring free.

I pause for a moment, a bit overwhelmed by the size of him. I don’t think I’ve ever been with anyone this big. His cock lifts once, twice, under my gaze, eager for me, eager for this.

“I’ve worked hard to get to do what I want, when I want,” he says to me.

I look up at him, slowly sinking down before him on my high heels, my knees spread wide. I see his gaze dip down to my exposed pussy, then jerk back up to my eyes. I reach out and wrap a hand around his cock, stroking him slowly. His eyelids flutter closed for a moment.

“Beg,” I say to him. I want him to plead, to make me feel like I have some agency in my sex life for the first time in years, if ever.

I want to bend this handsome god of a man to my will.

He called me prim. He wasn’t really wrong. It’s always been a good way to describe me. But I refuse to be prim little Rachel anymore. I want to be a woman I can look up to and admire.

“Not so prim anymore,” he rasps out, his hips bucking into my hand.

I laugh, bending forward to let my breath ghost over his heated flesh. “Beg,” I say again.

He reaches down and grabs a handful of my hair, tipping my head back so I have to look him in the eyes. “Please,” he says. “Please don’t stop.”

I smile at him and lean forward to take him into my mouth. The head of his dick is velvety smooth on my tongue as I take as much of him into my mouth as I can.

The noises he’s making as I work make my pussy drip with need. My breasts feel tight, heavy, and tender as they sway with my movements.

“Please stop,” he says to me abruptly, but he doesn’t make a move to step away.

I lean away, his dick popping free of my mouth. “Is there something…” I start to say, wanting to ask if I did something wrong. I feel off-balance suddenly, afraid I’ve been ridiculous, or silly.

But the heat in his gaze as he looks down at me restores my confidence immediately.

“I want to fuck you,” he says to me, his voice smooth like silk. “Please.”

I grin up at him and rise from my squatting position in front of him. My hands are still on his cock, and I squeeze him once, pleased with the reaction I see reflecting back at me in his eyes.

“You may,” I say graciously to him.

He closes his eyes for a moment and nods. Then he grabs me by the waist and whirls me around against the windows. My hands come up for support, my palms pressed against the cold glass.

He slides his hands down to my hips and tilts me back toward him. The head of his cock nudges into my wetness, and I moan loudly, wantonly.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he praises me as he slowly presses into me. His fingers knead my hips as he fills me, stretches me, makes me want to die from the pleasure that he’s giving me.

“Tristan,” I gasp out, my fingers slipping and sliding against the smooth glass surface as the pain and pleasure mix within me. “Oh, God, you’re so big. You feel amazing,” I choke out as he starts to move within me.

His driving strokes press me closer and closer to the window until I have to turn my face and press my cheek to the glass. My breasts are flattened against the surface, the chill biting into my nipples and adding to the intensity of the orgasm that is hovering close by.

“You’re so tight,” Tristan praises me, his words sounding desperate now as he drives into me harder and harder.

I’m crying out loudly with each thrust, the pleasure so intense that I almost can’t stand it.

I lean back into him for stability, and it sends his cock all the way home within me. I shriek with the pleasure of the increased pressure, and the orgasm crashes down onto me. I feel a rush of my own cum trickle down my legs as my cheek presses painfully against the window. My legs shake as my pussy flutters, gripping his cock, urging him on.

“Jesus, that was incredible,” he grinds out, stepping up the tempo of his thrusting. I try to stay upright, but I’m boneless with pleasure now. He reaches up and wraps a hand around my throat, pulling me back against him as he pumps into me once, twice, and then comes with a shout.

I feel the warmth of him within me and experience a primal thrill of triumph at him claiming me, marking me, making a mess of me.

I had no idea that sex could be like this. I feel unmoored from reality, drifting in a sea filled with the aftershocks of the shattering orgasm he just gave me. His long fingers around my neck and his thick cock buried within me feel like the only things keeping me from melting to the floor like a puddle.

“Thank you,” he says to me, his breath whispering over my ear.

I shake my head a little, my movement restricted by his grip on my throat. “For what?” I ask.

“For being the opposite of prim,” he replies, and I laugh.

“Shower?” he asks me, stepping back. I feel a pang of regret as he slips out of me and lets go of my neck.

“Sure,” I say, finally stepping out of my heels.

He offers his hand, and I take it, allowing him to lead me to the bathroom.

I will probably regret this tomorrow, but for now, I’m just basking in the afterglow of the most incredible sex I’ve ever had in my life.