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Always My Babygirl: A Billionaire Romance

Page 29

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He moves slowly, careful to not cause me pain. He’s holding back and I need more. Behind his calculated movements, I sense this man has power, a wildness that will take me to new heights if he would only just unleash it. He’s a tiger in a cage, wanting to let loose but fearing he’ll hurt me in his attack.

I want the tiger.

I hold his gaze, sending him assurance I’m fine. I’m more than fine. But I need more. “I’m ready. I want you.”

Harder, faster, deeper, daddy.

A wicked grin envelopes his face. “I think you are.”

Holding my gaze, he rocks his hips, slowly pressing further into me. A moan falls from my lips, my head lulling back as he fills me. I raise my legs higher to let him deeper inside of me. It feels so fucking good.

So this is what all the fuss is about. This incredible connection, this enchanting pleasure, this is what makes the world go round. I’ve been missing out.

He leans down, kissing my lips, my cheek, making his way to the curve of my earlobe. He takes it in his teeth, nipping. “Are you ready for all of me, baby?”

“Yes, daddy.”

And he enters me fully. There’s pain, but the pain melts away to sweet pleasure, giving me everything I’ve been missing all these years, not even knowing how badly I needed this in my life. My fingernails dig into his flesh, my eyes opening wide. A cry catches in my throat and my legs tighten around his torso like a vise.

We rock our bodies together as one. A slow, building burn in my core ignites, my pussy clenching down on his cock, tighter and tighter until—Oh, daddy!

My body curves around him. My hands hold onto him. I come with a hard, shuddering burst of energy. He gives a few more thrusts before giving a low moan. “Babygirl. What you do to me.”

“What you did.” I smile in the wake of the aftermath of my orgasm, my shaking limbs collapsing into the bed. His kisses my forehead, curling around my back and we lay there. Like two spoons.

To be so close to someone afterward, to feel their warm skin against your own. This is almost as good as the sex. My eyes feel heavy and I close them, drifting off, the smile still on my face.

I wake the next day to the sun rising outside our window and his hands on my body. Stroking my curves, trailing a line of kisses down my back. I smile, humming with delight, and roll onto my back. His fingers move to my side.

To my scar. My eyes open. My muscles, so relaxed just a moment before, tense.

“It’s beautiful, you know. This silver crescent moon.” His finger traces the semicircle. “Will you tell me about it, now?”

White heat spreads over my face. “I… it makes me… self-conscious.”

“It’s a part of your story. And I want to know about all of you. Even the parts you hide from the world. You can show them to me.” His gaze reassures me.

Everything in me tells me to keep this light, to keep things surface level only. But what I feel when I look in his eyes tells me to grip onto this connection, this euphoria.

To hold tight… onto him.

And so, I share my story. “We grew up on the coast. From birth I was a water baby. My dad taught me to surf. There wasn’t a single weekend we didn’t go out together.”

That’s the sweet part of the story. The easy part to tell.

The next piece, this part makes my throat feel tight, my eyes sting. “The morning of my high school graduation we decided to celebrate with an early surf. We went out, side by side, each of us laying on our board, paddling out with our arms. He was teasing me about a guy I had a crush on. One that we both knew was going to ask me out soon. We were laughing… just enjoying the day…”

He senses my unease. “It’s alright.” He strokes my arm, smooths his hand over my hair. “You’re safe now. With me.”

His touch, his soft words, offer me what I need to continue. “I felt this bump. Against my board. At first, I was confused, thinking I’d hit a rock, all the while knowing we’d surfed the same spot a hundred times and there were no rocks. Then, I heard my dad scream my name.”

Miranda! Watch out! His voice calls out in my mind, haunting me.

I brush tears from my eyes. Hoping they go unnoticed, I dive back into my story. “The shark took a bite from my board. Lucky for me, it was a smaller shark and his bottom row of teeth sunk into the board. I only got scraped by the top half. But it was enough to tear my side.”



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