Dating A British Billionaire (BWWM Romance) by Tasha Jones, BWWM Crew Page A

into my bedroom. He stopped right by my bed, and as I climbed out of his arms, I internally kicked myself for picking that day not to dress my bed, but settled with the fact that he probably wouldn’t even notice, much less care.
     
    My hands finished off the rest of his buttons, slipping his shirt out of his pants. He stood there kissing me on every spare part of my face as I went to work, unbuckling his belt, undoing his button and pulling down his pants. His bulge poked right through his Calvin Klein boxers, the tent forming a shadow on my aged, hardwood floor. I wanted all of him, inside of all of me.
     
    Driven by drunkenness, motivated by love, I dropped down to my knees, peeled off his boxers, and took him into my mouth. His sigh floated through the air, penetrating my ears as my mouth stretched to encompass all of him. I could feel his large hands, his heavy fingers on my shoulders, in my hair, egging me on. My eyeliner had smudged, my lips were swollen, but I had never been happier in my life.
     
    “Come here, love,” he whispered, drawing me up from the ground. He took my head in both of his hands and pressed his lips against mine. Our essence slipped all over our faces and my legs split, my skirt hiking up as his hard manhood slipped in between my thighs.
     
    In the next moment, I was on my back on my bed and his body was pressing onto mine. His meaty arms, his smooth back, the cuts of his muscles, the tufts of hair: it all drove me mad. He stood at the edge of the bed and ripped off my dress. I was so mesmerized by the taste of him in my mouth, by the glow of his skin in the moonlight, to care what happened to my dress.
     
    I grunted as he pressed himself on my now-naked body. It felt so warm, so right. I spread my legs, allowing him to fit neatly on top of me. My jaw swung open, my eyes flashing wide and my gasp filling the night air as he shoved himself inside of me. My entire body shuddered at the sensation of his hard manhood inside of my sex. My legs locked him in as he thrust in and out. In and out. I grabbed his neck, my arms pressing him down on top of me until there wasn’t a single space of air between our bodies.
     
    We were one in the same.
     
    I clenched my legs and he yielded, rolling under me. I pressed my hands onto his shoulders as I hopped up and down, his hands spotting my lower body. I could feel him pressing right up against me in the most perfect way, my nails digging into his skin, my fists slamming against his chest. “Oh God,” I whispered.
     
    He slapped my bum, his hips slamming up against mine as I collapsed on top of him. His hands squeezed me as we both plummeted towards our orgasm. My toes curled, my hands squeezed into fists and a screech slipped out of my mouth as he shuddered underneath me.
     
    “Oh.”
     
    “Oh.”
     
    I rolled off of him, my head finding a perfect place to nestle, right above his armpits. We held hands. And then we slowly drifted off.
     
    “I love you.”
     
    “I love you too.”
     

Chapter 12 – Nisha
    I woke up to a splitting headache… and to pounding. When I rolled over, my body hit another. I opened one eye at a time, to find Edward lying right next to me, his right hand stretched towards me and his left placed on his chest, just so, as if planted there by the meticulous director of an art film. A smile played on the edges of my lips… before the knocking continued. As I stumbled out of bed, trying my best to fight through the headache, the light sensitivity and my burning throat, I labored to wrap my head around who could possibly be at my door this early on a Sunday morning. “Coming!” I yelled in my hoarse voice as soon as I had shut the bedroom door behind me.
     
    As the knocking continued, I failed to catch a grip on what was going on. I failed to even remember what the date was.
     
    “Nisha! Open this door!”
     
    “Grandma! People are sleeping.”
     
    Oh God. I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at my locked door