Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (128 page)

Henry set down the bag he’d brought with and cupped her face between his big hands. His eyes roved her features as if he were memorizing them. “When I saw you in Buenos Aires I was struck by the life, the passion in you. And when I saw you again through your studio window I saw you still had it, and you have it now.”

Sophie bit her lip. His words were low and soft, full of meaning. When his mouth covered hers, she took it as an apology.

The kiss heated, as it always did when their lips touched. Their tongues caressed more boldly and each of them began to stroke questing hands over the other. Sophie trembled against him.

She gasped in surprise when Henry drew away to reach into the bag he’d carried with them. He drew out a portable sound dock and his iPod, set them up deftly, and hit play.

As the music began to pour from the small speakers, Henry straightened and offered his hand. “Dance with me.”

Before she even thought about it, she was sliding her palm into his. Henry drew her close. Her belly pressed to his hip, her breasts to his broad, hard chest. One of his muscled thighs slid between hers. Looking up into his smoldering gaze, their lips were mere inches apart.

He began to move them slowly through a simple eight-count, without embellishment, until they fell into a rhythm. Staring into the dark depths of his eyes, she paid only the most minimal attention to the movement of her feet. These steps were second nature to her, and with Henry they seemed even more natural.

She inhaled sharply as he swept her right foot and then urged her into some backward ochos. He tilted her into a side volcado as she swung her right leg into a back boleo and then forward enganche. He lifted her then, dragging the toe of her shoe across the dusty wood floor as he moved several quick steps backward. When he released his hold, Sophie slid down his body. His thigh pressed against the sensitive mound of her pussy.

He slid around her in a media luna, the frame of his embrace strong as he turned her to face him. The dazzling view spun in Sophie’s peripheral vision. It wasn’t nearly as gorgeous as the sight of Henry’s face. Passion chiseled his handsome features into something so potent and sharp it cut her straight to the quick. Desire ran through her veins every bit as much as blood.

The song ended abruptly, as lost as they were in each other. His breath was certainly more ragged than the simple dance called for. He lowered his head, and Sophie met him halfway, lips moist and parted. The glide of his tongue against hers was like the dance, simple and sensual and heart-pounding.

It went on for a long time, deep and sweet. Shivers of sensation cascaded over her skin, and her pussy pulsed in time with her heart. Sophie felt wet and ripe between her legs. She clung to him as he raised his head. “How about some wine?”

She blinked, dazed. “Henry, it’s ten in the morning.”

“Call it an early lunch.” He sat, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles as he unpacked several containers from the bag. There was fruit, cheese and a bottle of wine. He had prepared all this while she was getting ready. Sophie relented, sprawling in the warm sunlight pouring through the windows.

She closed her eyes, leaned back on her hands, and turned her face up to it as Henry used a corkscrew to pop the bottle of wine open. She heard the glug as he poured them each a glass of red wine. The scent of spice, chocolate, and ripe blackberries wafted up to her nose, mingling with the light smell of plaster and dust.

The wood floor beneath the blanket was warm from the sun. Sophie could feel it seeping through the thin, soft fabric under her fingers. Something cold touched her lips. She jumped, eyes flying open. Henry grinned at her, holding a chilled raspberry up for her. She smiled and opened her mouth so he could place the tart, sweet berry on her tongue.

“Mmm.” She licked her lips. “I think raspberries are my favorite berry.”

Henry tossed a blueberry into his mouth. “Really? I think most people would say strawberry.”

“Is that your favorite?” Sophie sipped her wine. Henry cocked his head.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever thought about it before.”

Sophie picked one each of the blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries spread out on the blanket in their respective containers. “Let’s do a taste test. Open up.”

Henry obliged. She popped the blueberry in first, and then, after he had chewed and swallowed, the strawberry. And then his lips were pressed against hers.

His tongue pressed up against her mouth, seeking entrance. He explored her cheeks and the line of her teeth, even slid along her soft palate before coiling around her tongue and sucking gently.

When he drew back, Sophie was panting. He licked his own lips. “No, you’re right. Raspberry is the best.” She held up her hand, now covered in the juices of the berry he had neglected to taste. “Any napkins in that bag?”

He shook his head, turned her hand palm up, and lowered his head. She realized his intent a moment before his tongue came out to slide across her palm, lapping the berry pulp from her hand. One by one, he sucked each juice covered digit into his warm mouth and gently licked it clean.

Sophie’s breath stuttered out of her. Each caress of his tongue, each time his lips slid along her skin, she remembered the sensation elsewhere on her body.

“Henry,” she moaned.

When her hand was clean, he trailed his mouth up to her wrist all the way to her neck.  His left arm pressed along her right, the soft hair of his forearm rubbing deliciously against her skin. The heavy silk of his hair brushed her throat.

He released her arm and reached for the wide strap of the dress, dragging it down to her elbow, along with the bra strap beneath. His mouth slid across her collarbone, teeth scraping gently as he lowered his head to run his tongue over the upper curve of her left breast, bared nearly to the stiff peak of her nipple. He tugged the bra and dress down further, trapping her arm against her side but uncovering her breast completely.

Confined as she was by the dress, she could only just brush her fingertips along the side of his face. The slight rasp of his stubble against her sensitive fingers made her shiver.

“Oh, god,” she murmured brokenly, arching her back to press herself closer to his touch.

Henry’s shoulders heaved with his own ragged breaths, and his tongue plunged into her mouth. He had begun playfully and sensually, but this had become something else. There was an edge of intensity in his kisses and caresses now. His practiced touch was rougher and more insistent.

She cried out into his mouth as his right hand snaked beneath the skirt of her dress. His thick fingers brushed across her aching mound, briefly cupping her through the wet lace of her panties. Sophie rolled her hips, pressing her pussy into his palm.

He squeezed her ripe flesh, drawing a gasp from her lips. “Dio! Sophie, I have to...” His fingers curled around the thin strap of her panties, twisting the delicate fabric. She cried out as the material bit into her skin, tightening over her slick sex. The small pain only lasted a moment as the flimsy cloth gave way and he ripped it aside.

The rough drag of the lace over her engorged clit was a burst of pain and pleasure that had Sophie writhing beneath him. Her fingers grazed his t-shirt and curled into the soft cotton, pulling him to her. The purr of his zipper was loud in the bright, empty room.

“Henry, yes! Please!” Sophie was turned on beyond belief by his passionate assault. The need to feel him inside her was all-consuming. She felt him hike her skirt up and brush the sleek head of his cock between her slippery lips. Henry groaned, rubbing the wide crown up and down her slick slit quickly before notching himself into place at her snug entrance and plunging into her.

“Sophie!” he cried. “Dolce amore, Dio, che me si bruciano!”

The words tumbled from his tongue, meaningless to her. She didn’t care. What she cared about was the press of the rock hard length of his flesh within her. She rocked her hips, sliding her pussy along his rigid shaft. Henry moaned, hitching her legs up around his waist. She locked her ankles together behind his back.

He fell upon her, mouth crushing hers, tongue demanding against hers. The rough fabric of his jeans chafed her thighs as he pistoned his hips. Sophie panted, undulating her body to meet his every thrust.

She heard the muffled thunk of glass hitting wood and realized one of them had knocked over her wine glass. It would be spilling across the dusty floor. They should do something about it. But the desire to stop Henry’s fevered pounding of her throbbing pussy was non-existent. The wine could wait. Sophie could not.

“Henry! More! Harder!” Her cries echoed back to her off the bare walls, ricocheting around the wide open space.

His hand left her breast, sliding up to cup her cheek. With each powerful thrust, the base of his cock slapped her highly sensitized clit. Wave after wave of heated pleasure rolled through her body.

Sophie’s fingers were claws in Henry’s t-shirt as she clung to him. He murmured unintelligible words against her skin as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her buttock. She could only pant his name, over and over. She licked at the salt of his skin, biting the firm mound of flesh at the base of his thumb.

He grunted, burying the entire length of his cock inside her clutching passage. She felt the twitch and spasm of his flesh within her, the hot rush of his seed flowing inside her. It put her over the edge. Sophie’s orgasm swamped her like a molten wave, sweeping all other thought from her as her body seemed to melt with pleasure, everything else incinerated beneath the heat of that moment.

They both stilled, remaining joined for several minutes. She stroked her hands down his back, over the soft cotton of his t-shirt. It was an odd sensation, being nearly naked beneath him while he was still fully dressed.

“Well,” she breathed softly, mouth curving into a smile as she scanned the room. The sunlight over Henry’s shoulder was slightly lower in the sky, a little more golden. It warmed up the stark space, painting the walls a burnished yellow. They’d spilled the containers of cheese and fruit, scattering the blanket with reds, blacks, blues, and creamy whites and yellows. “This place seems decidedly more lively now.”

“It does, doesn’t it? I should bring you along to all of the new buildings.”

“Oh!” Her eyes went wide, remembering the sound of the falling wine glass. She glanced frantically to her side. “The wine!”

The glass had tipped just near her elbow. Most of the dark red spirit had soaked into the blanket, turning it a deep purple. But some seeped out onto the floor.

“Don’t worry about it. The wood is varnished.” Henry laid his head back down against her breasts and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She slid her fingers into the heavy silk of his hair, running her nails lightly over his scalp. “Will it? That would stain the floor in my studio.”

“Aren’t those varnished?” He nestled himself into the cradle of her thighs. Glancing down, she saw his eyes were closed. A slight smile still played around the corners of his mouth.

“Uh-uh. It’s polished hardwood. I thought the varnish reduced some of the natural springiness.”

“I guess I hadn’t really noticed.”

She kept sifting through his hair, enjoying the feel of his weight pressing into her. “Well, you’ve only been inside twice. And last time...” She trailed off. Last time, she’d barely been speaking to him. It seemed so long ago, and yet it was a matter of days. So much had changed since then.

“I am sorry, Sophie. For the papers and everything else.”

“I know.” She smoothed the lines with her thumbs. “I’m glad Carl convinced me to give you another chance.”

He lifted himself to brush a soft, sweet kiss across her mouth. “He’s a good friend. Remind me to send him a fruit basket.”

“A fruit basket!” She pushed playfully at his shoulder. “Is that all?”

“You think I should shower him with jewels instead?”

The mention of jewels made her think of the pearls he’d given her to wear last night. She’d still been wearing them when she woke up this morning. They’d been heavy and warm against her throat. There was something decadent about laying naked in a vast bed wearing nothing but pearls. She’d taken them off before she’d went down to breakfast, laying them carefully on Henry’s bedside table.

Why had he let her wear them? What did they remind him of?

“Henry,” she began, tentatively. She knew she could possibly be ruining the moment, but she had to know. “Is your mother a dancer?”

He turned his head to kiss her fingers, but his dark brows drew down. “No. What makes you ask?”

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. Forget I asked.”

Sophie scrambled to her knees and began gathering up the spilled fruit and cheese. She spent way too much time organizing the bits of food as the silence spilled out between them. She pressed the tops of the containers on tight, watching out of the corner of her eye as Henry propped his head in one hand.

“Before I was born, she was an actress, but she gave it up when my father moved them to the States.”

An actress. Not very different from a dancer. A performer, someone whose job required passion. “She must have been very talented.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. “When I was little I thought I was very lucky to have a mother who could act out scenes from the books she read to me. She was better than any movie star.”

“And when you were older?”

“She wasn’t around.”

Sophie finished packing away the wine, fruit, and cheese and crawled across the blanket to kneel beside him. She trailed her fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his handsome face. “What was she like?”

He leaned back on his hands. “She was incredibly compassionate. She’d do anything she could to help someone out.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

A strange smiled played on his lips. “Come here.”

She walked over tentatively and sat down next to him. He drew her into his arms and rocked her down onto her back, his hand cradling the back of her head as he kissed her lips softly. Laying on the floor of an unfinished building hundreds of feet in the air, she had never felt safer.