Page 45 of Billionaire Hunt

We stayed in that position for a little bit. I don’t even know how long. It could have been minutes or hours. I know that I fell asleep and I was awakened when I felt him lifting me up and carrying me to bed.

I slipped between the sheets and then cuddled up next to him, my head right under his chin as I lay on his chest.

“I love you, Erik,” I said again sleepily. He didn’t respond. There was only silence and then I felt him take my hand and give it a small squeeze. I was too exhausted to say anything further, but I wasn’t too tired to feel hurt beyond measure. I had just given my mind, body and soul to a man who clearly didn’t love me.

I turned away from him and let the tears fall, as I drifted off into a troubled sleep, well aware of the person who I loved, but didn’t love me in return, softly snoring next to me.

The next morning, I knew before I even turned over that he was probably gone. I sat up stiffly, sore from our lovemaking that had continued throughout the night. He woke me up at least three times during the night.

Once he had taken me roughly from behind, I remember screaming as he mercilessly pounded into me, not in pain, but in pure pleasure. He had been almost animalistic in his lovemaking. And I had liked it, no, I had loved every minute of it. And then while I was sleeping on my side, he had slipped inside me again and we had lazily made love, still half asleep, moaning as we both came simultaneously.

The rest was a blur...I just remember him being inside me, filling me with his seed, kissing my face, making tender, sweet love to me sometimes while roughly taking me other times. And now I was alone.

And honestly, I wasn’t surprised. After how he reacted after I said I love you twice, it was amazing that he had even let me spend the night.

I sat up and wondered if he was even still here or if he had walked out on me and was driving to get away from me at this very moment. Maybe Simon would be outside the bedroom waiting for me with a sad expression on his face, there to explain to me that Erik would no longer be needing my “services”.

I chuckled at the image my mind conjured up of Simon looking highly uncomfortable, but then as I climbed into the shower, I allowed myself to let go of the charade that I was alright and I gave myself permission to just let go. My tears mixed with the water from the shower head and I let myself cry for the mistake I had clearly made. The mistake of loving yet another man who didn’t love me back. I felt humiliated, stupid, and broken.

Worst of all, it was all my fault. I had no one to blame but myself. I was so caught up in self-blame that my brain didn’t process the hands pulling me back toward a hard surface until I realized that hard surface was getting harder against my behind.

My breath caught. “I thought you left.”

“Why would I do that?” he breathed against my ear as he slowly brought his hands up to fondle my breasts. He played with my nipples until they were perfect pink points.

“Bend over,” he commanded and I did as I was told.

He entered me slowly, stretching me with his thick cock until he was fully buried inside of me. He began to thrust into me and I could feel his balls brushing up against me with every thrust. The water was cascading down my back drenching my hair, but I didn’t care. I only cared about the feel of Erik buried deep inside me.

He began to stroke my clit with every thrust he took while keeping me balanced. My knees were buckling in pleasure...I could barely keep myself up.

“You like that, don’t you? Tell me you like it, Misha. Tell me you want more.”

“Moooorrreee,” I said, but it came out more as a moan.

He gave me what I asked for and I wiggled my hips to give him more access.

“God, you’re still tight...still so wet. I’m going to come now, Misha. I’m going to fill you...”

My nipples tightened at his words and my pussy did too. In fact, my whole body tensed and he thrust a couple more times before coming again. My sex squeezed him, gripped his cock and he groaned as he spilled his warm seed into me.

He pulled out this time immediately and helped me stand up. He turned me around to face him.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“When?”

“Anytime? But especially just now?” he looked concern and searched my face.

I shook my head. “No, you didn’t hurt me. I felt good...real good,” I said in a whisper, looking at the shower water puddle beneath our feet before escaping down the drain. I couldn’t meet his eyes right now, there was too much unspoken between us.

He began to wash me then rubbing soap between his hands and gently cleansing me. He started off with my shoulders and then my arms. He circled my breasts and, of course, I gasped and looked up at him. He kissed me softly on the mouth and kept playing with my breasts. My breathing became irregular and he stopped. “I’m supposed to be washing you, not making you come,” he said, more as a reminder to himself than to me.

“Turn around,” he commanded. “Please. Your perfect breasts are distracting me.”

I did as I was told, and he washed my back. It felt good; his hands were warm and confident. He touched my body as if it were his own. I don’t know why I was surprised. He laid claim to my body and my heart a long time ago.

And then to my surprise, he began to wash my hair. I recognized the scent of my favorite shampoo as he emptied it into his hand and began to massage my scalp.