Page 57 of The Substitute Fiancée

She looks away toward the lights of Paris, thinking in silence.

“If we try,” she says at last, “what does that actually mean? Are we exclusive? Do we keep it secret? What do we do about the fake engagement?”

“For me, trying means giving ourselves a real chance. Being exclusive. Taking the time to discover each other as more than friends. Without rushing.”

I pause.

“As for the engagement—we keep up the public façade until the IPO. That gives us time. If it works, we make it real. If it doesn’t, we announce an amicable separation, just like planned.”

She turns back to me.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Let’s try. Because I have feelings for you too.”

My heart races. She closes the distance between us and kisses me softly. Her lips are warm against mine.

This time, it’s real.

Still, I force myself to slow down.

“Sam… gently. I promised we’d take our time.”

“I don’t want to slow down,” she breathes, her voice thick with desire. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”

At her words, the last shred of control I had left shatters. I scoop her up in my arms and carry her toward my bedroom, her legs wrapped around my hips.

Sam kisses me like her life depends on it.

“Tell me what you want,” I ask her as I set her down in front of my bed, my teeth gently nibbling her earlobe, my lips tracing a burning line along her neck.

“You. I want you,” she murmurs, her voice husky with desire. “I want you inside me.”

Those words ignite my senses. All my blood rushes to my cock. I immediately feel too tight in my pants.

I shed my jacket and unbutton my shirt. Her eyes devour me, following every inch of skin I reveal. Her legs press together as I close the distance between us. Her hand glides over my chest, tracing my muscles with the fervor of an artist discovering a work of art.

My impatient fingers find the zipper at her back. I lower it slowly, savoring every second. Her dress slides down her body and pools at her feet.

I hold my breath.

Delicate black lingerie against her milky skin. Full curves illuminated by the city lights. She’s magnificent, vulnerable, offered.

“You’re so beautiful.”

My voice trembles with desire. Her underwear makes my mouth water and sets my imagination on fire. God, I’ve never wanted anyone this much.

Without a word, I guide her to the bed. She lies down, eyes locked on me. I position myself between her legs and lean down to place a kiss on her mound. Her body arches as my lips seek her clit through the lace. A terribly erotic moan escapes her throat. My cock twitches against my belt.

My breath caresses her intimacy. I take a few seconds to readjust, then with one hand, I lower her bra. Her breasts are revealed. Divine. I cup one breast, taste its softness. She moans under my caresses.

With my mouth, I push her thong aside. Her pussy, glistening with desire, appears. Jesus, she’s perfect.

My tongue grazes her clit. Once. Twice. Three times. Each pass tears a growl of pleasure from her. Then I devour her. Her taste explodes in my mouth. I’m nothing but hunger. Hunger for her, for her taste, for her pleasure.

I draw circles around her clit, alternating pressure and tongue strokes. Her moans transform into whimpers. Her hands grip my hair, press me against her, silently begging me to continue.

My erection is painful, but I continue my sweet torture. I want her to come on my tongue. I want to drink her climax.

My hands move back up to her breasts, gently pinching her nipples while my tongue plunges into her. She growls. I begin my thrusts in her tight slit. Her body writhes, her hips press against my face. I don’t take my eyes off her. She’s so beautiful like this, completely at my mercy.