Beauty and the Billionaire Bachelors

My hips jutted forward.

“Fuck, yes, baby. Yes,” he groaned against my pussy.

My head fell backward as I offered myself to him again. He was relentless, pushing my knees wide.

His tongue darted while his fingers pushed inside me. Twisting and pumping tighter and faster. Harder and deeper.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. I’m coming,” I cried.

With one powerful lick he sent me over the edge. My body convulsed and quivered. I gasped for breath. I searched for gravity. But I was floating in a blissful haze.

Hawk’s eyes locked on mine. He lowered my feet to the tiles, where the hot water pooled at my toes. He kissed my stomach and then each nipple, drawing closer to my lips.

“I love you, Julie.”

I gasped. “Oh, God.”

“I do. I’m sorry I screwed up. But damn, I’m so in love with you.”

My arms wrapped around his neck. “I love you too. So much.”

“I didn’t mean to be a dick.”

I kissed him tenderly, tasting the soap and traces of myself on his lips. “I know. Don’t leave me out next time.”

“I won’t.”

He picked me up, cutting off the water with his free hand. He grabbed up two towels on his way out of the shower. “I bought you another early Christmas present.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “Mmhmm. This one has two settings. I think you’ll like it. And I swear it’s whisper quiet.”

My body tingled. “What every girl wants for Christmas.” I giggled.

“As long as my girl wants it, that’s all I care about.”

“I love you, Hawk. Now take me to bed and fuck me with everything you have.”

He laughed loudly. “Done, baby. You don’t have to say that twice.”

Epilogue

Two weeks later

I stretched out and looked at the sleeping goddess next to me. It was game day. It was Christmas day. Seemed like a double win. I reached my hand around my waist to draw her toward me when I heard pounding on the bedroom door.

“Shit,” I muttered.

Julie yanked the covers and wrapped the sheet around her bare breasts, eyeing me. “He’s excited.” She smiled.

“I want my game day ritual,” I groaned, trying to pry my hand between her legs. The door was locked. “He can wait a few minutes.”

She swatted at me and giggled. “Later. We have an eight-year-old on Christmas morning. Patience is not a thing here.”

We climbed out of bed and dressed.

“We’ll be right out,” Julie called through the door.