Paris with the Billionaire

She’d make these little sighing noises, these ahhhs, and remembering that just makes me even more rock-solid.

The base of my cock stiffens when I think about her tucked up in the four poster bed, the blankets tangled around those thick juicy thighs of hers. I imagine her sliding her hand down her body, pressing down on her sex, grinding the heel of her palm against her clit like the horny naïve thing she is.

I should’ve fucked her on the balcony.

I should’ve grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around, pushed her forward so that she was forced to bend over and stick that round spank-me ass out.

Then I would’ve grabbed her thighs and pulled them apart, letting me see how wet she was through the fabric of her pants.

I bet my little firecracker would have been soaked.

I bet she’s drenched right now in her bed, rubbing her cute pink slit, waiting for me to sneak in there and show her how sexy she really is.

Goddamn, my cock is pulsing. It’s flooding with tension and I don’t know if I can take it anymore.

My tip feels like it’s being electrified with need, my seed writing and urging its way higher and higher up my shaft.

I bite down, clenching my teeth so hard I’m surprised they don’t shatter.

I need to fuck this girl.

I’ll die if I don’t.

I need to taste her.

She’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. The cutest wide eyes and innocent kissable lips. Her juicy looking tits and that big full ass, make my mouth water just thinking about it.

I bet when she’s bent over and I’m fucking her – oh, fuck – my cock would disappear between those ass cheeks. I can see it so vividly, my massive throbbing dick smashing between those voluptuous cheeks.

She’ll make those whimpering sounds the deeper I get, unsure if she can take the full length of me, pulsing against me with each thrust.

I stand up, gripping the sheets in tight fists, panting out quick breaths into the quiet of the night.

I need to see her, see how curvy her silhouette is in the low light, listen to how she whimpers and moans in her sleep.

I walk across the room, making no sound at all, as quiet as a hunting animal. The marble floor is cool against my feet, the air pricking my bare chest and legs.

My boxer briefs, the only item of clothing I’m wearing, can barely contain what my woman is doing to me.

I pull the door open and stalk through the hotel suite, somehow resisting the urge to reach down and grab onto the thick meatiness of my manhood. My fingers twitch with the need for some kind of release.

My seed roars at me from some deep primal place, Don’t you fucking dare waste me anywhere but her sweet fertile made-for-you hole.

I walk to the end of the hallway and turn the corner, and then walk down another hallway and stop just outside her room.

I press my ear against the door and listen closely, trying to hear if she’s awake.

Part of me knows that this is wrong.

I shouldn’t invade her privacy like this.

But another part of me laughs at that assertion.

She doesn’t have privacy where I’m concerned.

I own her, own every goddamn part of her. She’s mine, right down to her soul.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

When I don’t hear anything, I quietly open her door and move across the room. My movements are fluid as I drift over to her bed, standing over her.

I almost roar when I see her lying beneath me.

She’s wearing pajama shorts that ride up her pussy and her ass, framing the neediness of her flesh.

Her tank top is loose-fitting and, fuck, fuck …

She’s not wearing a bra.

She’s lying there and the tank top hardly covers her nipples, her pink fresh-looking nipples. She’s begging for it.

My horny queen knows what she’s doing.

I need to touch her, to taste her, to let her know how much she means to me.

I lean down, placing my fist on her bed, bringing my face close to hers.

She murmurs and her eyes blink open.

She flinches and shifts away from me, but she doesn’t scream. She doesn’t look scared. Confusion cascades down her features and then she rubs her eyes, blinking as though I’m going to disappear.

“What’s happening?” she moans, in that needy sleepy voice.

“I’m going to suck your horny young nipples until they’re perky and hard,” I snarl. “And then I’m going to eat that juicy slit of yours, Fiona. That’s what happening.”

This wasn’t part of the plan.

I didn’t want to let my beast out this early, but something has broken inside of me. My restraint has crumbled to pieces and all I can think about is how red her cheeks are, how full of life, as though her body is trying to send me a message.