Bound to the Billionaire

Chapter Four: Hot 'N Steamy

“Okay,” I said. He had inches on me, but I didn’t mind filling up his shadow. I hadn't exactly downed the kool-aid when it came to the masculinity shtick. No matter what my wolf said, I didn't always need to be big and bad. 

I took an experimental step toward him, so my breath touched his chin. He smiled down at me, tight and close-lipped. My hands felt clumsy while I tugged the hem of his shirt. Like this was the first time, like I didn’t know what to do, how to start. I was still thumbing his hip when he pulled my mouth to his with a tug of my unwashed hair.

My knees buckled against his. Holy f**k, we were doing this again. But slower this time, his mouth pursed shut against mine. I only tasted his lips, teeth scraping his soft, warm skin. I pulled his lower one between my teeth, sucked it. He was teasing me. The taste of him, salt and touches of chapstick. “Mmm,” I groaned.

I loved the hint of s*x brought by a good kiss and a man who’d let me get rough with him. My coiled muscles relaxed. His mouth was slick under my tongue. His fingernails scored the back of my neck, a teasing, tortuous sting, pressing my head closer and closer, the kiss deepening. I wanted to arch my neck against those strong hands, to feel his grip travel down my skin. I sunk my teeth into his lower lip, letting the metallic singe fill the kiss. He made me want to brand him, hurt him.

He growled into me, pressing deep and hard. f**k him, I was thinking, f**k him, for making me want the taste of his body, for making me crave the friction of him rubbing against mine. But when he moved, he made me want to explore every crevice, every inch of his skin. I stroked the hard muscle under his shirt and trailed my fingertips over his chest. He brought his head back, his lips puckered and raw, but I wouldn't pull away. I darted quick, needy licks where his pulse beat in his neck. f**k him, I thought as I lapped the slick, salty tang of his skin. f**k him.

He gripped me by the the hem of my shirt,  his knuckles pressed against the base of my spine. “Damn you.” I tugged his ear in my teeth. He had come to show me what I could have with him. I knew it and I hated him for it, but I needed him just the same. My legs curled around his hips. He crossed the room and pressed my back into the beige wall. Smooth bronze skin and quivering muscle surrounded me in a pulsing, panting, human cage, his shirt straining to contain him.

I shook my head, the muscles in my back tensing through my damp tee. I wanted him under me. “Not here,” I said, words escaping as short gasps as he peppered slow kisses to my neck. “Closet. Bed."

His fingers tangled in my hair, the mark of his nails singing in my flesh. The feel of him pulled me apart, piece by piece. I was still trapped. He was still a distraction, and I, a prisoner of fate. But I also noticed how his eyelids fluttered, how he tipped his head, how bashful he suddenly looked with his face pink. I could make use with him. Maybe not til death do us part, but for then. “You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

There were few things I hated more than mid-s*x conversation, and Nico was proving chatty. “Uh huh.” I indulged him anyway. Blood rushed to my ears, and all I was hearing was the pounding of his pulse against me and the snow hissing down on the roof. eyes closed as I pressed my face into the length of his collarbone. I tugged at his shirt with my teeth. Cocooned against my mate, I only wanted to drink him in, his scent, the warmth of his embraces. I heated the taunt skin with caressing kisses, and it was an odd, gentle thing for me to do. “Nico?”

He lifted me. His fingers fitted my spine, bracing me as the wall fell away. Face buried in his shirt, I only heard the creak of the floor joices and the pant of his breath. All I smelled was his scent and his sweat, the net of cotton all but a damp barrier between me and a man I craved. Each step jostled me closer to him, until a lock clicked and the pantry door creaked open. I pressed my nose to his shoulder, nibbling the smooth skin.

He groaned. “Relax, baby.”

“Tryin,” I muttered, running the damp fabric between my teeth and tongue. The room swam. I liked it when he called me ‘baby.’ All things considered, I should’ve hated him for it. I didn’t want to be his ‘baby.’ I wanted to be his one-time fuckbuddy.

Nico pried my hands from his waist and I fell into my cot’s sighing springs with a yelp. I wriggled my shoulders into the center and lay limp, appreciating Nico from the lower angle. The dark blue of his jeans in the front, slick fabric pulling against his sculpted legs. I wanted him to turn around so I could steal a glance of his ass. I drew myself up on my elbows, loose strands of dirty blonde hair itching my lashes. I was so hot I could only breathe in pants.

He took care in removing his shirt and kicking it toward the door, his movements measured and quiet. I reached blindly under the bed for my open suitcase. I’d just grasped the brass handle when he landed upon me. The springs moaned and so did I. I liked the pressure of him pushing me into the rough fabric. Liked him holding me down. There was a solidness to Nico, a real sense of weight to him, of presence. His scent clouded the room, that musky cologne, rubbed into my bedsheets, the cot, my clothes.

“You really like to take your time, don’t you?” I was proving chattier than he was.

“And you say you don’t want to be my mate.” He shook his head, pink in the face and smirking. When he traced the curve of my ear, I whined. f**k him and f**k mates, but his touch drew strange, desperate reactions from me.

Drool pooled from the corner of my mouth. “Whatever.”

My wolf was content, but I flared with irritation as he lifted himself and tugged at my shirt. He was in my space. I had a right to possess him first. To hold him down and taste him, all of him. I held up my arms and let him peel my shirt from my body, only because of how his long fingers laced my skin with heat and how I loved it. He smiled, all white teeth and chewed lips. I sat up, grasping at the button on his jeans, tugging it, and then snapping it off with a snip of fabric. Who was this man? It was so strange for me, to be so consumed with lust. I was contained to those moments, aware simply of taste and touch and of each step I had to take to bring him where I wanted him.

Step one: undress him.

His hands traced my stomach, running up my skin, his thumbs flicking my chest and the pale fuzz there. I pulled the zipper down and slid his fitted jeans down his hips, exposing the elastic band of his boxers. I was flushed just from the tease of skin. He pushed me down and slipped my sweats to my ankles with his teeth. My boxers still clung to me, steepled.

I stood, shaking him from me. All I knew is that I wanted him under me and I wanted him flat. “Stay still,” I said, my breath shallow as I eyed the lithe, dark form sinking into the cot below me. He nodded once, curtly, and I pounced. For once, I let my wolf take control. Nico smiled sleepily as I drew my nose down his throat into the line of hair on his chest, down his belly, farther still. I tugged down his boxers with my teeth, tasting sweat matted in a silky touch of dark hair.There was nothing particularly intimate about the man being naked, and nothing particularly intimate about giving him a blowjob. I gripped him—firm, well-proportioned. Like the rest of him, he had a sense of weight and definition. His hips flexed and he wriggled in my grasp. When I squeezed, he moaned.

“Dimitri.” I loved the way he said my name, how harshly he hissed out the ‘d’, how the ‘m’ lingered like a purr, how the ‘i’ trembled in the air, soft and silky as a music note. “I know what you said back in the van, but if you don’t want to—”

I blinked up at him. “Do you think I’d do this s**t if I didn’t want to?”

A second of hesitation. “No.”

I kissed the inside of his thigh. His pulse roared against my tingling lips. His skin was hot and blushing. “s**t,” he muttered. “I’m still wearing my shoes.”

I sat up, and I laughed.