Taken by Him (The Billionaire's Club 2)

“Luke.”

“Baby.”

He seated himself inside her, then grabbed her hips and held her gaze as he started fucking her for real. She cried out from the force, filled up to her throat with his enormous length, and then she cried out each time he plunged into her depths.

Each of his ramming thrusts was swift and powerful, meant to let her know he was boss here, the one calling the shots, the one taking her. The possessiveness in each deep, hard plow exhilarated her, drove her wild as his hands cupped her breasts and squeezed them in need, in domination.

Thick veins popped against the tanned skin of his neck, that same proprietary look he’d been giving her ever since he’d claimed her upstairs still in his eyes, burning like a fire in her soul. She shuddered at the delicious sensation of his teeth as he bent and gnawed at the tender flesh of her neck, and she welcomed the thick length of his cock thrusting inside her, again and again, the pleasure heady and intense and overwhelming.

“Tell me you missed me, Pey,” he commanded hotly in her ear.

“So much,” she gasped.

“Ask me to give it to you harder, then.”

She cried out for it. He made her whimper and beg him to please, please fuck her, fuck her now, fuck her hard. His fingers slipped down her belly so he could thumb her clitoris while he kept impaling her in deep, dominant thrusts until Peyton’s second orgasm hit in a blinding eruption of colors.

She rode it, shuddering beneath him as Luke murmured her name, a hot, exploding breath against her face as his thrusts gradually receded.

For a while they lay there, entangled, sweaty.

“Is this your room, Luke?” she asked when she recovered and lazily took stock of her surroundings, her voice still husky.

“Yep. Now it’s yours, too.” He kissed her lips, and Peyton admired how surprisingly subtle it was, tan and blue. No bullshit like what she’d seen upstairs in his party lair. Her heart soared as she realized he’d been letting her see things about himself that no one else did.

“Please don’t tell me you own the building?”

“Only three floors.”

“Only!”

He chuckled, smacked her butt, then dove to kiss the exact place he’d smacked, until finally he rose to clean up in the bathroom, allowing her to watch his magnificent muscled buttocks clench sensually as he walked away.

Smiling dreamily, Peyton propped back up on a pillow and spotted an open folder on his nightstand. The picture on the very top was of her—and she recognized that navy blue sweater as one she’d been wearing only yesterday.

“You had me followed?” she asked, wide-eyed, when Luke came out.

“Yeah. So?” Unperturbed, he jumped back on the bed and hugged her against his side, coasting his hands up and down her back.

Her frown bit into her face as she searched his eyes. “You know, I never pegged you as the possessive type.”

He held her gaze, fully sober, and then brushed her lips with his. “I never had a possession that was worth more than my life to me.” He pressed his mouth to her ear next. “Just like you were looking for me, I’ve been restless my entire life. Looking for you.”

She dissolved into pure lust at that and kissed him, then she murmured in his ear, “What exactly were you planning to do when you found me?”

“Hmm. It definitely involved some of what we just did,” he murmured, “and some of this…” Rolling her under him, he drowned her in his kisses once more.

Her hands slid up his chest and bumped a scar, where he used to wear the bandage, close to his beautiful small brown nipple. “Is this where you got shot?” Her lips fell there of their own will, kissing the scar, licking it.

He shuddered, his arms convulsing around her. “Ah, Christ. Nobody’s ever kissed it.”

“I’m so sorry this happened, Luke.”

He grinned down at her, both playful and serious. “I’m not, girl. It took me right to you.”

She spent the night at his apartment, and the night after, and by the third night, Luke called the movers to bring all her clothes, her laptop, her home computer—to his place.

He made her lose all reason, all self-control, and all practicality, until Peyton wanted nothing else, cherished nothing else, and knew nothing else, except Luke Preston.