Page 38 of The Billionaire's Promise

Just when I thought I would go mad, he lifted his head from my breasts and said, "I closed the door to the sitting room, but try to be quiet for this next part. We don't want to wake Rosie up."

What next part? Before I could think through what he'd said, he was moving down my body, his lips trailing across my ribs, his tongue dipping into my bellybutton, making me squirm, before he settled between my legs, lifting first one, then the other, over his shoulders. Braced on his elbows, he set his palms on my inner thighs, holding me open to his gaze.

I couldn't move, frozen in lust and embarrassment. No one had ever seen me so exposed. Not outside of a medical office. I wanted to snap my legs shut and scramble off the bed. I wanted to press my hot, slick flesh to Vance's mouth. His tongue flicked out, tasting my inner thigh. I shuddered with pleasure and need. I had no idea what to expect.

No one had ever done this to me before. I'd read about it, but that wasn't the same. My hands went to his, I don't know why. Not to stop him. Maybe I just needed something to hold onto. His fingers tangled with mine, our wrists braced on my inner thighs and pinning my legs wide.

I had the random thought that I was glad I'd gone back to yoga. Flexibility was good. Then I stopped thinking altogether.

Vance's tongue, his lips, were everywhere. Tasting me, teasing me. Embarrassment fled under the wave of hot, desperate arousal. When he wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked the first time, orgasm hit me like a slap—fast and hard and shocking. I'd never come like that with a partner. I wasn't expecting to, wasn't thinking about an orgasm. I'd never even come like that by myself.

I was still gasping and making a low, keening sound in my throat when Vance rubbed his stubbled cheek against my inner thigh and said, "I'm going to keep calling you Sugar. You taste so sweet."

He licked me again, giving a hum of satisfaction. I had no frame of reference for what this was. This wasn't sex. Not how I knew it. I should've expected the second orgasm, but it built so slowly, I didn't see it coming. Vance took his time, his tongue teasing and flicking and sucking and dipping inside over and over until I was squirming and mindless, caught in the gradually building wave of pleasure, so absorbed in him that the flash of bliss took me by surprise when it broke and crashed through me.

He cut off my moans with his mouth, kissing me, tasting of me—salty and musky and sweet—before he was there, filling me with that thick, hard cock. I think it might have hurt if I hadn't already come twice. I knew he was big, but seeing him across the room and feeling him inside me were two very different things. He pressed in slowly, making room for himself in my body, his passage eased by how wet I was, how much I needed him.

When he was in to the hilt, filling me completely, he let out a short gasp of breath and moaned, “Fuck, baby. Fuck, so—"

His head dropped to my shoulder, his cheek brushing mine, his breath hitching in his chest as he started to move, his hips jerking in an uneven rhythm as if his body had escaped his control. Following instinct, I tilted my hips and wrapped my legs around him, drawing him closer, deeper.

As if he'd been waiting for permission, he started to move, thrusting harder, faster. I would've told you there was no way I could come again. I would've been wrong. Vance's breathing was shallow and harsh, his eyes squeezed shut. When he reached down and sank his fingers into my ass, tilting my hips further and thrusting even deeper, he hit something inside me and I exploded in sharp, almost painful pleasure, gasping for air and calling out his name, over and over.

His mouth took mine, silencing my cries as his body stiffened in orgasm. I didn't pass out afterward, but it kind of felt like it. My brain was completely offline. All I could do was lie there and try to catch my breath. I let out a hitch when Vance pulled himself from my body, still half-hard.

Then he was gone, and I was cold, but still too overwhelmed to do anything about it. Water ran in the bathroom, and he was back, the condom gone and a warm, wet washcloth in his hand. If I'd been thinking, I would've been embarrassed to have him stroke the cloth between my legs gently twice before tossing it on the floor. But by the time I registered what he was doing, he was already done, sliding under the sheet, pulling the blankets over us, and drawing me into his arms.

I thought we were going to talk about it. Wasn't that what people did after they had sex for the first time? Maybe we were supposed to, but we didn't. I was back the way I'd woken up, my cheek on Vance's chest, my legs tangled with his, the soothing stroke of his fingers on my arm and tugging on my hair. I listened to the thump of his heartbeat beneath my ear and thought about what I should say until I fell asleep.

Rosie woke us a few hours later. We shifted from our leisurely nap straight into panic mode when we heard her coughing and sneezing. Vance got to her first.

"No fever," he called into the bedroom. "I'll clean her up and feed her, and you can take the first shower."

I wasn't going to turn that offer down. Vance was still giving Rosie her bottle when I got out of the shower, so I took the time to dry my hair. Maybe I was avoiding him, just a little. My body hummed with the aftermath of three unbelievable orgasms.

Literally unbelievable.

If I'd had any idea sex could be like that, I would've broken up with Brayden a long time ago. I didn't know. I'd never understood how people said sex was better than chocolate. Now I knew I'd just been having the wrong kind of sex.

I wasn't going to play the regret game with Vance. I wasn't that big of a liar, or a coward. I wanted to have sex with him again. And again. Vance had been in control, and everything had been about me. The next time, I wanted to touch him, to explore every inch of that fucking fine body until he was just as desperate as I had been.

I wanted, needed, to make him feel as good as he'd made me feel. I wasn't going to start some crap about how we shouldn't have done it and it was a mistake. It probably was a mistake, but it wasn't one I wanted to take back.

Still, the analytical side of my brain couldn't stop asking me questions. What did this mean? How are things going to change? The sex was amazing, I guess, but it didn't erase my original concerns. Just because the orgasms had blown my mind didn't mean they were anything different for Vance. For all I knew, that had been just average sex to him.

It was too late for me. I wasn't in danger of falling in love with Vance. I wasn't one of those people who could separate sex and emotion. I already loved him. Now this? Eventually, he was going to move on. Right now, with Rosie on his hands, he needed me. He needed my help, he needed my support, and he wanted me in bed. It was the perfect arrangement for him. For me, the amazing orgasms aside, it was a recipe for a broken heart, and I was walking right into it, my eyes wide open. I was an idiot.

An idiot who still had to get ready for work. Finished with my hair, I put on some makeup, wrapped the towel around me, and went to go find my clothes. Vance and Rosalie were nowhere to be seen. I'll admit, that was a relief. Standing in front of my closet, I chose a shift dress in a deep plum. It was comfortable but well cut and polished enough for work.

I slipped into the matching tailored cardigan and went to look for the bracelet I always wore with that dress. It had been my grandmother's, a simple amethyst and diamond pattern my grandfather had given her as an anniversary gift. It wasn't a terribly expensive piece—the stones were on the smaller side—but the design of faceted flowers was whimsical and sweet and it made me feel close to my grandmother.

I couldn't find it. My desk at work could get disorganized, but I was careful with my jewelry. I didn't have a lot, most of it handed down from my grandmother, and I treasured every piece she'd given me. Each one had a story, was a piece of her life, a memory of her. There's no way I would've misplaced so much as an earring, but the bracelet was gone. I checked everywhere, even my bedside table and the bathroom drawers. By the time Vance came to check on me, I was biting my lip to hold back tears.

"Babe, do you want breakfast?"

I turned to him, shaking my head.

"What's wrong? Magnolia, tell me what's wrong," he said, crowding into my space. His hands were full of Rosie, but he held her against one shoulder and wound his arm around me.