Keeping His Promise (Year of the Billionaire Part 3) by K.C. Falls Page B

blindfolds or ice. Just the raw human contact of his lips on my tender folds as he buried his face between my legs. I pushed against him, groaning with the absolute perfection of his touch. He hummed 'yes, yes' into my pussy and I felt the vibration of the words ripple up through my core. Two fingers stroked inside me and brought a deluge that he lapped from me as if it was champagne. So hot, so erotic, so primal. I moved against him faster and faster, unable and unwilling to control my greedy body. The stubble on his chin scraped against the swollen flesh that I bounced against his face. I came with stars and screams; spasms of light shot through me and made me his again.
    Wide-eyed and heaving I watche d him unzip his pants and roughly push his garments to his knees. He didn't bother to do more than expose his hips and his raging erection. He sat beside me and hoisted me over him, impaling me on his cock. His girth stretched my wet channel around him and he grabbed me with his hands at my hips.
    "Fuck me now. Ride me hard."
    I didn't need to be asked twice. Bucking against his groin while the road rolled under us excited us both and we fell into a primitive rhythm. It was artless. It was crude need. I loved it.
    His face was intensely contorted. I banged down on him, propelled by his hands the slap, slap of our flesh mingling with guttural grunts of exertion as we strained toward climax. When I reached around and cupped his tight ball sack in my hand, I could feel him tip over the edge. I added a roll of my hips each time the base of his cock touched my body, grinding my clit into him as hard as I could.
    When I felt the contractions I breathed, "I'm coming now, give me . . . give me."
    He gave. Great gushes of hot spunk hit me inside. He slammed my hips hard against his with each spurt, growling his release each time. I 'd feel the power of his bruising fuck for days. I knew I'd savor each time the delicious ache reminded me how it got there.
     
     
    Twelve
     
    My apartment was full of flowers again. I hadn't intended to decorate for Christmas, except what Mr. Clemson and I had done for the shop, but Tristan sent over a little three foot tree that was perfect. It was exquisitely decorated with miniature ornaments, satin ribbons and a darling lace skirt and of course, it looked like it had cost a fortune. My mother's tree still boasted craft dough stars and clothespin reindeer my sisters and I contributed over the years. Tristan had mentioned how special his mother had made Christmas for him and as I worked the stacks I wondered what I could do to bring some of that magic back for him.
    "The stage manager returns tomorrow," I told him the Sunday after our weekend reconciliation.
    "Thank God for that. I hope that you intend to give me 'credit' for the nights I didn't get to see you. By my count, you owe me at least four nights."
    "I have a favor to ask you."
    "Anything for you. You should know that by now. Are you ready for me to replace that godawful car of yours?"
    "No, I want the key to your apartment."
    "Isn't this a rather drastic turnaround? Just a couple weeks ago you were limiting me to a 'few' dates a week."
    I laughed. "I'm not moving in. I just want to surprise you with something. Can you trust me with your keys for a day?"
    "I sup pose so . . . You aren't going to steal the silver are you?"
    "No."
    "Swipe my Cezanne?"
    "No."
    "Mangle my Monet?"
    "No, I promise I won't touch your treasures."
    "Oh please! My treasures adore your touch!"
    "You know what I mean."
    "Okay, when do you need the keys?"
    "Tuesday. I have the day off. You need to stay at the office all day."
    "Such mystery."
    "I think you'll like what I have planned. Can you drop the keys off at the book store tomorrow? You do know where it is, don't you? Right across from Zabars."
    "I know it, but I have to . . . I'll leave them with the doorman. He knows you."
    I spent Monday on line and on the telephone. One of the most amazing things about New York is