I Choose You (The Billionaire Brothers Series) (10 page)

Before I could answer, he swept me up in his arms with one swift move and started back inside the suite. He brought me to stand in front of the bed, and then stooped down to unstrap my sandals. After having them removed, he stood back up and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing tanned perfection of hard, muscled chest and abdomen. Male. Man. All man.

Taking my hands, he placed them on his belt buckle. “Undo me.”

Normally, I wouldn’t have to be told to undress a man, I would’ve been doing that ages ago. But what I’ve noticed with Trevillo, was I did a lot more staring and a lot less doing. He fascinated me. Awed me. Made me speechless. Always speechless. His masculinity was so mesmerizing, the majority of the time, all I did was gawk. Unabashedly so. Like now, his hard hunk of chest was just right there in front of me. Firm, strong, making me want run my tongue all over it. Bite it. Try to goddamn eat it.

He wasn’t an oiled-down, hair-free, model-style man. He was delectably au naturel — smooth, sexy hair on his chest, with a sweet trail that ran down the center of his abs and disappeared into his jeans man. His skin glistened on its own, his abs rippled on their own, and the smooth trailing of hair made him
real
. Because men
should
have hair on their body.

“Krissy … ” It was just my name, but it was also an order.

Snapping out of my foggy daze, I started to undo his belt buckle, his button and zipper, then dragged his jeans down his legs, going down with it. Moving to his boots, I nudged for him to step out of them and then his jeans. Leaving him in just his black boxers.

Ever seen a well-toned, good-looking man partially naked, with chiseled abs and a trail of dark hair disappearing down his boxers, and then your heart just starts beating helluva fast? So much that it frightens you? That’s how you know you’ve been fucked without being touched.

Still crouched at his feet, I ogled him from head to toe, drowning in lust.

“I’m still dressed,” Trevillo told me.

Oh. Right.

Reaching up, I hooked my fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pulled them off.

On a deep breath, I looked up at the thick, venous, erection jutting out. Up, live, big, hard, and ready to throw down.

I had a feeling, just a feeling, that this night was going to be a
good
great night.

Trevillo bent and stood me up by my arms, seeing that I was still gawking and all. He tapped on my underwear for me to remove them. Once I removed the last piece of clothing between us, he turned us so his back was to the bed, sat down, and set me astride him. He gripped my chin, bringing my face close to his and licked my lips. Just licked them. To and fro, never giving me his tongue. It was wet and freakin’ hot.

Jesus, this man was sex incarnate. Being with him felt like watching ‘romantic’ porn in slow motion. Everything was so precise and unhurried. Governor of his world, he had time on his hands and he played with it however he pleased. Making me feel as though I were a sweet, delicious candy that needed to be licked, sucked, and savored the right way in order to be dissolved into nothingness.

His tongue glided down my neck, to my collarbone, to my sternum. Cupping both breasts in his hands, he pressed a kiss between them and whispered, “These, they are perfect, Krissan. So … fucking … perfect.”

And then a nipple was being sucked into his hot mouth.

My body bowed into his as his tongue flickered around my nipple, making me feel things I’ve never once felt from getting my nipples sucked. Dear Lord. Did I mention the man had a freakin’ amazing tongue? I might have. But I feel the need to reiterate: Trevillo Nelson’s tongue was frigging lethal.

Tongue gliding to the other breast, he bit. That’s all. One tiny bite and I almost came. Yeah, he was good. Real good.

Wrapping one arm around my waist to keep me steady, he leaned forward to grab his jeans from the floor and stole a condom from one of the back pockets. Breathlessly, I watched as he tore open the packet and rolled on the condom. Once he was done, I didn’t wait for instructions; I locked my hands around his neck and rose up above his length.

He grabbed my hips and stopped me before I could ease down on him. Moving in for a swift kiss, he told me, “I want you to
fuck
me, Krissy. Hard and fast. Ride me like you mean it. Like you want to break me. Split me in fucking two.”

After saying his say, he reclined back on the bed and let go of my hips. He kept his eyes on mine, daring me to do anything other than what he ordered me to do. Having absolutely no problem with giving him what he wanted, instead of easing down on his length, I slammed down in one swift go. Don’t even ask if that move hurt. I felt pain travel straight up my body, as if it was cracking me in two. But boy, it felt damn good.

Trevillo’s eyes grew lazy as he sucked in a breath at the unexpected motion. Starting out slow, I rocked my hips back and forth, giving myself time to acclimatize to his size. When I grew unbearably close, I started to ride him. Leaning back, I gripped his thighs for stability and rode him like I meant it. That’s what he wanted.

“Nails,” he groaned, nostrils flaring.

Thinking that I was hurting him by gripping him too hard with my long-nailed fingers, I immediately released his thighs.

“No, fuck, no!” he growled, grabbing my hips and urging me to ride him harder. “Sink your fucking nails into my flesh, Krissan. Hard. Let me feel it.”

Then I remembered what he told me earlier about his predilection for pain. Though it was kind of weird for me, I complied without hesitancy and gripped his thighs, sinking my nails into his flesh.

His eyes slammed shut as he groaned a sound that could only be described as raw pleasure. “Harder, babe,” he spurred on, rocking my hips faster.

The sight of him beneath me, twisted in pleasure, tensed, his body arching up off the bed, his neck exposed with bulging veins as he pressed his head back into the mattress while thrusting himself up deep inside me, was, hands down,
the
sexiest goddamn thing I’d ever seen.

Ever.

This man was sex personified. Sex. Raw sex. Sinful sex. Sex in the damn flesh. Just sex. The burning sight of him sent me into an instant, unprepared-for explosion. And I shattered into the hardest, longest, most intense orgasm I’d ever had. My fingers digging deeper into Trevillo’s flesh as my orgasm seized my body and wrung me dry.

Trevillo gripped my hips tighter and began thrusting faster up into me, his breathing sharp and harsh, his face drenched in sweat. Then, the most erotic thing happened: he locked his eyes with mine, lifted me by the hips completely off his length, then slammed me back down on him and roared, yes,
roared
as he arched up off the bed stilled at his climax. Eyes never closing, never leaving mine, but boring into me, pouring into me all the pleasure he was feeling, with every spasm, every pulsation.

That’s when I came to the conclusion that, before Trevillo, every other sexual encounter I’d ever had was, compared to this, foreplay. This right here, was the real deal. My breath was snatched. How was I going to walk away from this in the morning?

Emptied, drained, Trevillo rolled over so I was on my back and he was on top of me. He slid out of me and got up to take off the condom. Knotting it at the top, he dropped it in a nearby bin and came back to lie next to me on the bed. One finger slid up my seam then straight up my body and was forced into my mouth. I sucked his finger, tasting myself, and he smiled a satisfied smile, his eyes hooded and sleepy. “Krissan Kingston, you are amazing.”

Rolling over on his back, he hauled me on top of him and pushed back the sweat-wet bangs from my face. “And I want to give you everything.” He kissed me softly, laid my head down on his chest and breathed, “Everything.”

And all I could think at that point was …

Shit.

T
revillo hit the line that refused to stop blinking on his receiver and answered with a cross, “
What
, Milo?”

“Sarah James is here to see you, boss,” Milo informed him, and he could tell the asshole was smirking. “Should I send her in?”

Trevillo rubbed at his aching forehead. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with Sarah’s shit right now. He’d been expecting a visit from her since he’d had her notified of being dropped from the Skylark project. She took longer than he’d expected, and now she couldn’t have chosen a worst juncture to visit, because his mood was in the bitters. Had been in the bitters since Saturday morning, actually. However, he might as well deal with whatever tantrum Sarah was about to throw and get it over with.

He gave Milo the go ahead and seconds later, Sarah barged into his office. Attitude in full effect. Sarah James was a strikingly attractive woman. She was above average height, standing over six feet tall when she wore heels. Lean and sexy.

Long, coal-dark hair channeled down her back, almost hitting her waist, with feline green eyes having a natural come-hither gleam to them. As mentioned before, she was striking. And married. To a filthy drug dealer who used his successful insurance company as a front to hide his dirt.

And, oh, she was one of his fucks.

Sarah James was the only ‘affair’ he’d ever kept. Almost every other woman was once. If they were memorable, a couple more times, and he was done. He was dumb, but not
that
dumb. He challenged danger, but not
that
much. He let his cock rule him at times, but not
that
stupidly. Of course, he wasn’t going to stick around long enough for their husbands to blow his head off for screwing their wives.

Sure, his wealth was so vast he
smelled
like money, but that didn’t make him invincible. Husbands who love and cherish their wives will cap a bullet in your ass. No questions asked.

But Sarah, she had a little something going on for her. She knew how to touch him, when to touch him, how to make him feel pain and pleasure all at once. She knew her shit. So he’d been screwing around with her for close to a year. That’s a record.

But then she began to grow clingy and presumptuous; that made him start to take a few steps back from her. Kept reminding her she was married and he wasn’t willing to have his brains blown out by her trigger-happy, pussy-whipped husband.

Until he’d heard her mumble something with the word “love” entangled in it. That was it for him. He took himself the fuck out of there. But Sarah didn’t seem to get the memo yet, even though he hadn’t been with her in months. Now he’d dropped her from a project … Uh huh, this bitch was about to blow.

“Wanna tell me
why
you dropped me from the Skylark project,
Mr. Nelson
?” she gritted out, no preamble.

Definitely not in the mood for this.

“Because it seems you’ve been multi-tasking: creating shitty designs while deep-throating Johnson’s cock. Maybe even during a golden shower?” His forehead started throbbing harder with a headache growing more intense instead of subsiding. “You’ve grown comfortable and lazy, Sarah, and you’re giving me shit to work with.”

“I hardly have sex with Johnson anymore, and you know it,” she defensively shot.

Who gives a shit about her and her beach ball of a husband? Swear to God, the son-of-a-bitch was a triple-size version of Rolie Polie Olie.

“Sarah,” he said patiently, even though he was anything but. “I don’t care two fucks about what you do with your husband. ‘Cause he’s just that, yeah? Your
husband
.”

Sarah dropped her gaze and nodded.

“What I
do
care about is the quality of work you’re presenting. You haven’t produced anything innovative for a while now. Therefore, you won’t be assigned to anymore luxury projects until you get your shit together. Got that?”

She must’ve known she’d been slacking on the job because she didn’t react as he’d expected her to. She simply nodded again, sniffed, and rubbed her nose. He almost thought she was crying when she sniffed again, but that wasn’t it.

“Are you sniffing Johnson’s shit?”

Her gaze snapped to his at the question, and she immediately slid on that lecherous demeanor only Sarah James owned. “No, no. Of course not.”

She crossed his office and rounded his desk to perch on the edge in a lewd position that, once upon a time, would’ve had his cock fighting against his zipper, wanting out, wanting
in
. But not today. Not anymore.

Because he’d been fucked by an angel.

And he was beginning to believe there was no way to turn back once you’ve had your cock inside angel. You’re fucked, and then you’re owned. He learned angels were far more intense than demons. Which was why he’d been contemplating since Saturday morning whether he should go in the opposite direction to prevent being thoroughly ruined, or whether he should chase after the angel who’d fucked him like a demon, then flew away.

“So, who did you find with skills as good as mine to assign to Skylark?” Sarah inquired as she pushed aside his laptop and shifted her ass so she was spread wide in front of him, dragging her skirt up to her hips to flash him the goods.

“Someone who can get the job done.”

Trevillo swiveled his chair around, got up, and went over to the kitchenette to fetch two aspirins. He knocked them back with a tall glass of water.

By the time he turned around, Sarah was in his face, her green eyes narrowed. “I hear it’s that dressy short blond Krissan Kingston. I know you don’t do young girls, but, you’re not fucking her, are you?”

“Sarah,” he said, losing his patience. “You need to get out of my office.”

She lunged forward and sank her teeth deep into the side of his neck. And it felt good. Man did it feel good. But his cock still wasn’t responding to her.

Elbowing her off, he pointed to the door. “Get the fuck
out
, Sarah.”

She flinched, and her expression seemed pained as she stared back at him, as if she was finally getting the message he’d been trying to convey to her for months now: this, was done.