The Billionaire’s Secret Love (A 'Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires' Romance) by Alexa Wilder, Ivy Layne
Authors: Alexa Wilder, Ivy Layne
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have any trouble talking to him. After some of the dorky things I’d said, I wouldn't have minded being a little tongue-tied.
As Tate talked, I finished eating and ended up just staring at him, the way his dark hair fell in his eyes, the curve of his lower lip. His voice trailed off, and my eyes met his. The desire I saw there sent a jolt down my spine.
He’d caught me staring at his lips, and I was pretty sure I knew what he was thinking. My stomach fluttered, and I felt a prickle in my palms. I liked Tate. Like was such a tepid word. I didn't know how to describe the way I felt about Tate. Something in him drew me, pulled me out of myself, made me feel safe and thrilled all at the same time. I wanted more, even if I had only the vaguest idea what more would be. What would he expect? Dumb question. I had a pretty good idea what he'd expect.
At that thought, my stomach clenched and the prickle in my hands spread. My heart pounded in my chest so hard, I imagined I could hear it banging against my rib cage. I turned in the chair to face him, wanting to be closer to Tate, needing to ignore the panic rising inside me. I hadn't had an attack in a long time, and I was not going to have one with Tate. This isn't a panic attack, I told myself. It's just sensory overload. The best thing to do about that is to shut my brain off.
It felt like the craziest risk I'd ever taken, but I knew if I didn't do something, I was going to freak out, and I didn't want Tate to see me like that. Ignoring the thump of my heartbeat and the prickle in my palms, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to Tate's.
The second my mouth touched his, Tate took control. Kissing me, his lips coaxing mine open, he pulled me to my feet, backing me slowly away from the desk toward the couch on the far side of the room. I let him lead me, not caring where we were going as long as he kept kissing me. He fell backward onto the black leather couch, pulling me on top of him. The other times we'd kissed, Tate hadn't really used his hands. This time, he made up for it.
With my knees on either side of Tate's hips, my stretchy skirt rode up. Tate's hands closed over my thighs, pulling me down against him. I was mostly lost in the feeling of his mouth taking mine, but not enough to miss the length of his cock pressing against his jeans, nestled between my legs and right on my clit. If we hadn't been wearing so many clothes, he probably would've been inside me.
The thought made me shiver. I couldn't get my head around what was happening. Tate was kissing me, harder, deeper and far more thoroughly than he had before. I was on top, but I had no illusions as to who was in charge. His tongue stroked into my mouth, tasting me, and I couldn't help but answer the rhythm of our lips stroking and feeding on each other. It drove my already aroused body higher and hotter.
I ground down on his cock, through my underwear and his jeans. My breasts pressed into his chest, the padded push-up bra suddenly feeling too tight. I wanted it off. I wanted to be naked, my skin against Tate’s. It wasn't enough just to feel his hands on my legs, first stroking my skin, then rising to grip my ass, rocking me against him.
Every time we came together, a wash of pleasure scattered my brain cells and made me gasp. It was too much, and I wanted more. When his fingers slid beneath my panties and grazed my clit, I tore my mouth from his and gasped, "Tate."
I was shaking. Jagged streaks of a pleasure so sharp it hurt raked through my body. I was wet where he touched me, slippery and hot. If I'd been more in control, I probably would've been embarrassed. Instead, my mouth dropped to Tate’s neck, and I bit down, my fingers digging into his shoulders. A scream caught in my throat as he pressed one long finger inside my pussy.
I've never felt anything like this. With one hand on my ass, he urged me to rock against the hard length of his cock, rubbing against my clit. With the other, he fucked me with
As Tate talked, I finished eating and ended up just staring at him, the way his dark hair fell in his eyes, the curve of his lower lip. His voice trailed off, and my eyes met his. The desire I saw there sent a jolt down my spine.
He’d caught me staring at his lips, and I was pretty sure I knew what he was thinking. My stomach fluttered, and I felt a prickle in my palms. I liked Tate. Like was such a tepid word. I didn't know how to describe the way I felt about Tate. Something in him drew me, pulled me out of myself, made me feel safe and thrilled all at the same time. I wanted more, even if I had only the vaguest idea what more would be. What would he expect? Dumb question. I had a pretty good idea what he'd expect.
At that thought, my stomach clenched and the prickle in my hands spread. My heart pounded in my chest so hard, I imagined I could hear it banging against my rib cage. I turned in the chair to face him, wanting to be closer to Tate, needing to ignore the panic rising inside me. I hadn't had an attack in a long time, and I was not going to have one with Tate. This isn't a panic attack, I told myself. It's just sensory overload. The best thing to do about that is to shut my brain off.
It felt like the craziest risk I'd ever taken, but I knew if I didn't do something, I was going to freak out, and I didn't want Tate to see me like that. Ignoring the thump of my heartbeat and the prickle in my palms, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to Tate's.
The second my mouth touched his, Tate took control. Kissing me, his lips coaxing mine open, he pulled me to my feet, backing me slowly away from the desk toward the couch on the far side of the room. I let him lead me, not caring where we were going as long as he kept kissing me. He fell backward onto the black leather couch, pulling me on top of him. The other times we'd kissed, Tate hadn't really used his hands. This time, he made up for it.
With my knees on either side of Tate's hips, my stretchy skirt rode up. Tate's hands closed over my thighs, pulling me down against him. I was mostly lost in the feeling of his mouth taking mine, but not enough to miss the length of his cock pressing against his jeans, nestled between my legs and right on my clit. If we hadn't been wearing so many clothes, he probably would've been inside me.
The thought made me shiver. I couldn't get my head around what was happening. Tate was kissing me, harder, deeper and far more thoroughly than he had before. I was on top, but I had no illusions as to who was in charge. His tongue stroked into my mouth, tasting me, and I couldn't help but answer the rhythm of our lips stroking and feeding on each other. It drove my already aroused body higher and hotter.
I ground down on his cock, through my underwear and his jeans. My breasts pressed into his chest, the padded push-up bra suddenly feeling too tight. I wanted it off. I wanted to be naked, my skin against Tate’s. It wasn't enough just to feel his hands on my legs, first stroking my skin, then rising to grip my ass, rocking me against him.
Every time we came together, a wash of pleasure scattered my brain cells and made me gasp. It was too much, and I wanted more. When his fingers slid beneath my panties and grazed my clit, I tore my mouth from his and gasped, "Tate."
I was shaking. Jagged streaks of a pleasure so sharp it hurt raked through my body. I was wet where he touched me, slippery and hot. If I'd been more in control, I probably would've been embarrassed. Instead, my mouth dropped to Tate’s neck, and I bit down, my fingers digging into his shoulders. A scream caught in my throat as he pressed one long finger inside my pussy.
I've never felt anything like this. With one hand on my ass, he urged me to rock against the hard length of his cock, rubbing against my clit. With the other, he fucked me with
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