Billionaires Dollar Series

A zipper is undone. Then he pulls the hardness over my ass, between my legs, teasing me again.

“What do you want me to do now?” he asks.

“Fuck me.”

“What? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I want you to fuck me. Right here.” I force the last word out before I lose my nerve. “Hard.”

Ethan groans. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing words like that come out of your mouth.”

I look back at him. “I said now.”

Grinning, he glances down, his hand moving… but he doesn’t push in. “Fucking hell. Bella, I didn’t bring a condom.”

“I’m on the pill,” I say, arching a bit higher. I’m practically panting with need. Will he just enter me already? I need him.

“And you’re good at taking it? Regularly and all?”

“Yes, every morning.” It’s as ingrained a habit as breathing, almost-I’ve done it for years and years.

Ethan seems to consider. But I wiggle my ass again, spreading my legs wider…

“Fuck,” he says, decision made, and positions himself. We both groan as he pushes into me, inch after inch, deliciously deep.

I’ll never tire of this.

Ethan reaches for my arms and tugs them back, my chest rising from the cold marble. He thrusts deep and hard, exactly what I’d asked him for.

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“That’s it,” he breathes. “Right there. Good girl, Bella, right there…”

I’m barely able to reply, busy as I am focusing on my breathing, on the pleasure growing inside me again. Something about this, about Ethan so unleashed and me bent over like this, has me on hair-trigger. And perhaps I won’t always want it like this, but right now it’s the only thing I want.

His hand slaps down again. “Your pussy is fucking unreal around me.”

My concentration shatters with his words. It’s impossible to stop my pleasure from cresting, and when he switches a hand from my arm to my hair, giving it a light tug…

My body explodes again. I’m dimly aware of Ethan cursing, of his hips thrusting erratically, of the pulsing deep inside me as he finishes.

And then we’re both panting hard, bodies still intertwined.

“Oh my God,” I murmur. My legs feel shaky. So do my arms, to be fair. My entire body is jelly.

“You could say that again.”

“Oh my God.”

Laughing weakly, Ethan pulls out, turning me around and pulling me against his body. My panties are still around my knees.

“Not too rough?” he murmurs.

“No.” I lean my head against his chest and breathe in the deep, male scent of him. “That was perfect.”

A hand strokes over my hair. “It was. It was also intense as hell.”

I nod. It’s hard to form thoughts.

Perhaps Ethan senses that, because he smiles and bends down to tug my panties back into place. “Come on,” he tells me. “Show me to your room.”

“Don’t you have to go?”

“Not quite yet.” He supports my weight, and once we’ve made it to my bedroom, I almost feel like a person again. A newly fucked person, true, but someone who can remember the alphabet and basic arithmetic. Calculus is probably still beyond me.

Ethan stretches out on the bed beside me and wraps an arm around my waist. I turn into him and take another deep breath again. Funny, how he smells this good.

I think I tell him that because he laughs. “Never been told that before,” he murmurs. “So do you. Especially right now.”

Closeness and pleasure and him are everywhere, filling my head and my chest. Perhaps that’s why the sudden spear of guilt is so intense, piercing through my haze of delirious calm.

I have to tell him.

“Ethan,” I say, looking up at the edge of his jaw. It’ll be easier to meet than his eyes. “I need to tell you something. About me staying here. There’s only about a month and a half left, and when I-”

Ethan’s arms flex around me. “Bella, please don’t, don’t say anything at all. Just be here with me until I have to leave. Let’s just be us, with no thoughts of the future.”

I swallow my words. They go down painfully, their edges sharp. “All right,” I murmur, nestling closer against him, holding on while I still can.

I’m shocked the next day when Lyra doesn’t show up like she said she would. Absolutely amazed-never in a hundred years had I predicted this. She’s usually the paragon of dependability.

But I can’t tell my kids that, and not just because they don’t yet grasp sarcasm.

Haven tugs on my pant leg. “So she’ll be here tomorrow instead?”

“Yes, honey, that’s what she said.” On the phone-after I’d given her my piece. She’d laughed, of course, and said that the ways of air travel were beyond her. I don’t control storms, darling.

“And Bella? Will she be here too?”

I frown at Haven. “No, she’ll be in her house. Maybe she can come over for dinner afterwards, though.”

Under no circumstances did I want Bella and Lyra to meet. It was just one of those things, like Evie’s idea about putting ketchup on ice cream. You could do it, but what was the point? No good would come of it.

Haven crosses her uninjured arm over her chest. “So tomorrow, then.”

The tone of her voice isn’t entirely happy, either. There’s something else in it-skepticism. It tears at my heart to see her develop that feeling so early on, and especially against her mother.

A part of me longs to reassure her. Mommy loves you and she’ll be here as soon as she can.