Snowed In with the Billionaire by Lila Monroe

Author:Lila Monroe [Monroe, Lila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lila Monroe Books
Published: 2015-11-30T06:00:00+00:00

I gasp at his command and draw my nails down his back as the pressure goes down to the core of me, so close, oh God—

“Fuck,” Ace groans, slamming hard into me again and again, slowing down, his breaths going harsh and irregular. “Come with me, Paige. Come.”

Our eyes lock, and I see him hesitate just before he shudders, gasping as comes in waves, stroking into me with every jolt of ecstasy. His pleasure stokes mine, and I cry out as my orgasm swells and crashes, thrusting to meet him as I climax so that his cock is filling me completely, pounding right into the center of my bliss. Ace pulls my lips to his, our tongues desperate for each other as I grip his shoulders, digging my nails into his back until he slows and finally stills. We lie there, both gasping for air.

I can say without a doubt in my mind that I’ve never been fucked like this before.

When we’ve both relearned how to breathe, he slides under me, pulling me on top of his warm, naked body. We lie together on the couch, my head on his chest, luxuriating in the moment.

I’ll be honest, my sexual experiences before this one have been pretty tame. Ace is the first man who’s ever paid so much attention to what I wanted. So I guess as far as flings go, I couldn’t have lucked into a better one. Though I wish I didn’t have to keep reminding myself that a fling is all this is, all it will ever be. Get over it, Paige.

I’m trying to.

I trail my fingers along Ace’s arm, tracing the musical notes.

“What’s the story behind these tattoos?” I ask.

Ace cocks an eyebrow. “What do you think they mean?”

“Well, there’s a bleeding rose on your chest. A heartbreak tattoo. You loved a girl named Rose, and she left, so now it’s a bleeding rose. And the music on your arm,” I say, touching the musical notes again, “is the first song you ever wrote.”

“Good choices.” Ace sounds impressed. “Wrong, but good.” He touches the rose. “The Bleeding Rose was my first band in high school. And this,” he says, stretching out his left arm, “is Fur Elise. First song I ever learned on the piano.” He hums the music—da da da da da da da dum daaaa.

“Full of surprises,” I say. “Not many rockers have Beethoven on their arm.”

“I could make some joke about dating classical composers, but I’m a little too relaxed right now.” We’re silent a minute or two, basking in the glow. “Just think,” Ace muses, trailing kisses along my shoulder. “Douchebro girl.”“Is that going to be my superhero identity? Can we not think of anything better?”

“What about Sex Goddess? Would that work?” he whispers in my ear.

“Very acceptable. I should order monogrammed sheets and napkins with SG on them. Lavender thread, I think. Mom would certainly like that.”

Ace laughs. I love the way it rumbles in his chest against my cheek. “When I first met you, I thought you were so prim and proper.

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