New York Billionaires Series

His hips speed up until he’s hammering into me, the speed too much, the pressure too much. His thumb grazes over my clit and I explode around him.

I’m vaguely aware of moaning, but his voice cuts through all of it.

“Fuck yes, sweetheart, just like that. Just like that.” A growl of pleasure from him and I open my eyes, having to see this. His handsome, masculine features are relaxed in pleasure, hips slamming into me with desperate thrusts. It might be the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

I feel the pulse of his length inside me as he reaches his peak, buried deep inside. My eyes never leave his face as he enjoys the sensations.

I know I’ll never forget that expression.

When he opens his eyes, they’re swimming with satisfaction and pleasure. He turns his head and presses a soft kiss to my ankle. “Your pussy damn near cut off my blood circulation when you came around me.”

My laughter is wheezy, tired. He lowers my legs to the bed and pulls out of me, disappearing to throw away the condom. Seconds later he stretches out beside me on the bed and I turn to him on instinct, my head on his shoulder. A moment later his arm comes around me.

“I don’t think I’m strait-laced anymore,” I murmur. “You’ll have to think of a new nickname for me now.”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through the chest beneath my hand. “I think it’ll take more than one night of this to properly undo your laces.”

I run my fingernails through the smattering of hair on his chest, wondering how long this’ll last. Do we have the room all night? By the hour?

What’s the protocol at parties like this? I’m not sure if cuddling on the bed is part of it, but he makes no effort to move, his arm keeping my body tight against his.

And it does feel wonderful, skin against skin, his body warm and firm to the touch.

“It feels very odd not to know your name,” I comment, rising up on an elbow.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not trying to bend a rule here, are you?”

“Me? I’m a rule-follower through and through,” I say, resting my head in my hand. “It’s just, now I’ve slept with another man, and I have nothing to refer to him by in my head.”

His smile widens into something wickedly thoughtful. He reaches out and drags his fingers through my long hair, the ends tickling my bare breasts.

“Best you’ve ever had,” he suggests. “Lover of the year. A sex god.”

“A sex god?”

He gives a faint grimace. “Yeah, not that one.”

“You’re pretty full of yourself, you know.”

He snorts, fingers closing around one of my nipples. He plays with it idly, dark eyes meeting mine. They’re bottomless now, the same man I’d sparred with on the couch an hour ago.

Who is this man?

“There’s a difference,” he says, “between being full of yourself and knowing your worth.”

Right. “And your worth is measured in gold?”

A quirk of his lips. “Diamonds, sweetheart.”

Groaning, I stretch out next to him. He laughs as he rises up on an elbow, hand smoothing across my stomach. “I’m drifting away from mafia boss.”

“Oh?” His hand drifts lower, teasing between my legs with sure fingers. “How so?”

“You fuck like a man who does his own dirty business.”

The fingers pause, and an eyebrow quirks. Our eyes meet and lock for a moment that stretches into eternity, into something that’s real and scary and tender.

I want to get to know this man.

I know it down to my very toes, despite the artificial nature of this meeting, the no-names clause, the doubtless fact that our lives couldn’t be more different.

His lips twitch, the spell broken. “And you’re too observant for your own good.”

“Is there such a thing?”

And then, pain of all pains, he glances down at the thick watch on his arm. I recognize the small logo on the watch face.

Yes, definitely different worlds.

“Somewhere you have to be?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” His fingers give me a final, lazy stroke, and to my eternal surprise, he bends his head to kiss me once between my legs in farewell.

He reaches for his clothing as I watch, turning onto my stomach. “I was just about to ask you when parties like these end, but you beat me to it.”

“I’m more of an instructor than a teacher.” He looks at me from a height that is no less than six feet, perhaps six-two, buckling the belt in his pants. “You look fucking fantastic lying like that, by the way.”

“Thank you.” I rise up on an elbow, knowing my breasts look great like this. The whole purpose of these parties is great, amazing, uncomplicated sex.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Sex that doesn’t have strings.

Sex that doesn’t come with expectations.

“Will you instruct me on one final point?”

He nods, doing up the buttons to his shirt. “I’m feeling generous.”

“Are you allowed to have sex with the same guest at another party?”

“Ah.” His grin flashes crookedly. “And this is a hypothetical?”

“It’s allowed,” he says, and the heat in his eyes makes it clear that I’m not the only one thinking it.

It seems like I’m not done being Rebecca Hartford after all.

Scooping my mask up from the floor, he approaches me on the bed. He’s fully dressed now.

“My unmasked beauty,” he murmurs, tying the mask back on silken strings around my head. “Fucking you has been the highlight of my month.”