Free Big Brother Billionaire (Part Three) by Lexie Ray Page B

becoming one.
    None of the old magic had been lost, and I was vaguely surprised that there weren’t a dozen rainbows and shooting stars decorating the skies when I was able to open my eyes.
    “Let’s go to my hotel,” Marcus mumbled, and I laughed at him.
    “No. Let’s go home.”
    The years seemed to drop away the faster the hired car went, Marcus urging the driver on, his hand on my knee, then higher on my thigh, then at my hip. I didn’t live far from the club, but it felt like ages until we pulled up at the gate, the security guard waving us through the moment I popped my impatient face out of the window.
    The car was still moving when Marcus kicked the door open, hauling me out and scooping me up into his arms.
    “I don’t want to see you fall again,” he said, and then he strode up the sidewalk to the front door where he had to dip down to allow me to use my key.
    Another spin had me disable the alarm and turn on a light, then he followed my pointed finger to the bedroom.
    Both of us wanted the same thing.
    Clothes became superfluous, and we kissed as we slowly fell onto the bed together, working buttons apart, picking at zippers. My heart was clattering against my chest, and my fingers couldn’t touch enough of the man hovering over me, breathing kisses over my skin, making me shiver.
    “I want you now,” I complained, burying my nails in his shoulders, impatient as always. I’d never been a patient lover.
    “I want to enjoy every square inch of you,” Marcus said, complacent as he nuzzled the sensitive skin just below my ear. “I’ve waited this long. I’m going to take my sweet time with you, and I won’t be rushed.”
    It was excruciating to cede power, to let Marcus have his way, to give myself over to his explorations. I’d always wanted an orgasm my way—fast and hard. Could I really wait? Could I be the patient lover he demanded of me?
    Marcus trailed kissed down my skin, his fingers massaging in his lips’ wake, reducing me to a relaxed but aroused puddle of a person. I didn’t know where he’d learned to touch a woman, and didn’t want to know. All I was thankful for was that he was here with me now, touching me just there, glancing over the part of me that craved his attention the most, traveling down to my feet and kneading their strained tendons.
    Neither of us had to say anything anymore. We had been waiting years for this moment, my fingertips running over his still-hard muscles, his tongue tasting the tip of my hardening nipple, places both familiar and completely new, both of us free to take all the time we needed.
    We had all the time we needed.
    Marcus slipped down on the bed next to me and gently guided me up to straddle his waist.
    “I want to look at you,” he said, his palm working its way down my torso, down my belly. “I want to see you.”
    I didn’t have much experience in this position. Marcus could sense my self-doubt.
    “I’m right here, Parker,” he said. “Everything is fine. I want you to try this one for me.”
    With only a bit of scrambling, I lowered myself onto him and felt him fill me up with an aching satisfaction that I’d always been searching for, always been waiting for. The passage of time had made it all the more sweet as we breathed together, two people made into one, the only sound our panting. I loved this man completely, intrinsically, and taking him inside of my body was the best way I could show him how.
    We began to move together, Marcus lifting my hips with his hands until I understood the rhythm of it, the poetry, and we built toward something still far off. He cupped my breast with one hand, thumbed my most sensitive button below with his other, making me toss my head, making me lose time and awareness.
    “Please,” I heard myself murmuring. “Please, please, please.”
    “My Parker,” he said gently, brushing my hair out of my face, “I will give you anything you ask for. You don’t have to beg.”
    That slow ignition inside