Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 565

CChapter 565

GOwen’s POV

HHis mouth moved over mine with a hunger that stole my breath, his hands gripping my face. My body wwas pinned against the cold wall, but all I could feel was his heat, burning through our clothes.

WWhen he finally pulled back a few inches, we were both breathing hard.

WWithout breaking eye contact, he reached to the side, and I heard the sharp, decisive click of the bolt slsliding into place.

The door/was locked.

Thatat small sound echoed inside me like thunder. It was the sound of the world being shut out. Nothing elsise mattered now. Not the inn. Not the debts. Not tomorrow.

There was only the two of us in that shadowed room, the crackle of the fire, and the storm we had unielsished.

Heleturnedlali his focus back to me, and his expression was pure, fierce concentration.

“Nowowee whispered, his voice a rough growl that sent a shiver down my spine, “no one’s going to feinatupiptus.”

Beferered could reply, his hands slid from my face, over my shoulders, and around my waist. In one

sisoobthefeofolaless motion, he lifted me.

Instinctivelyly, wrapped my legs around his torso and my arms around his neck.

Helevasinjuisitstrong. He was solid, like the mountains surrounding the village.

Helcaraid daawayay from the door and toward the center of the room, where a thick Persian rug lay in

front ofothe effereplace.

Helknelt and taialdiae down on the soft wool with surprising reverence.

The dim higit wassiciered by the orange glow of the embers, painting shifting shadows across Nick’s faface as he hovered dvvenne, completely filling my field of vision. He stayed there for a moment, just Iclooking at me disisyeyes traveling over every inch of my face as if memorizing me. Claiming me.

TThen his handsisofoudhdhe hem fof my sweater.

WWith slow deliberatele ovements, he pulled it up, taking my shirt underneath with it. Cool air brushed oovermy skin, malang gyyipipples tighten instantly, a sharp contrast to the heat burning inside me.

HHe sucked in a breaththisisanze darkening as he took in my newly exposed body. Only my upper half, but wunden that intense stareret ftefeltkikewwas completely naked.

“GGod, Gwen,” he braathadrach dthe admiration in his voice was more intoxicating than anything.

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His hand reached out, his rough palm closing over my breast.

The shock of the contact, of his warm skin against mine, drew a soft moan from my lips. His thumb circled my hardened nipple, first with torturous lightness, then with firm pressure that made my hips arch up toward him.

He leaned down, and his mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue hot and wet as he licked and sucked, while his hand kneaded me with a possessiveness that left me dizzy.

I was lost in a haze of sensation.

His hands were everywhere. On my back, pulling me closer. On my stomach, tracing lines of fire. On my hips, holding me with a grip that promised so much more.

Every touch was a declaration. A claim.

He wasn’t asking. He was taking.

And I was giving myself to him willingly, every part of me begging for more.

He paused only long enough to unbutton his own shirt and toss it aside. Then his body came down over mine, skin to skin, and the contact was electric.

The feel of his chest against my breasts. His solid weight over me. The sensation of being completely wrapped up, dominated and protected at the same time…

It was overwhelming.

My fingers dug into his shoulders, feeling his muscles flex beneath my skin as he moved against me.

His mouth found mine again.

A deep, desperate kiss. A collision of tongues and breath that spoke of repressed desire and a hunger that went far beyond the physical. I answered him with the same intensity, my hips rolling against his, finding the hard, insistent proof of his need beneath his jeans.

A rough growl escaped him, and he broke the kiss, burying his face in my neck.

“I need you,” he breathed against my skin. “Now.”

I couldn’t form coherent words.

My fingers found his jeans, my intention unmistakable. He lifted his hips just enough for me to undo the button and zipper. The soft rasp of fabric sliding down was the most erotic sound I’d ever heard.

He kicked off his pants and underwear in one swift movement, and then his hands were on me, stripping away my jeans and panties with an urgency that made my blood burn.

And then there were no more barriers.

Only warm skin. Sweat. And the overwhelming sensation of him, naked against me, as naked as I was.

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He positioned himself between my legs, and they opened for him in a silent, eager invitation. His eyes met mine in the flickering firelight, and what I saw there wasn’t just desire.

It was a question.

A final thread of restraint.

“Nick,” I pleaded, my body arched with tension, my soul laid bare. “Please.”

That was what he’d been waiting for.

With a slow, deliberate, almost torturous movement, he entered me.

My body stretched to take him in, the sensation so full, so complete, that tears filled my eyes. Not from pain. From desire. He stopped, buried deep inside me, his face a mask of focus and pleasure.

“Gwen,” he whispered, my name a prayer on his lips.

Then he began to move.

Every thrust was deep. Precise. Hitting a place inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids. My legs wrapped tighter around his back, pulling him closer, wanting him impossibly deeper.

My moans were loud and shameless, echoing in the quiet room, blending with the low, guttural sounds

in his throat.

He controlled everything. Every movement. Every breath.

His hands gripped my hips, setting the rhythm, dictating the depth. He took me to a place where thought no longer existed. Where there was only sensation. The divine friction of our bodies. The soft, wet

sounds of our union. The scent of sweat and desire.

The pressure inside me built like a hurricane, every cell in my body tightening toward a breaking point.

I cried out his name, a desperate plea.

He answered with one final, deep, perfect thrust.

And the world shattered.

My orgasm crashed over me like a wave, violent and complete, tearing a muffled scream from my throat against his shoulder as I shook uncontrollably beneath him. My muscles clenched around him in endless spasms.

Feeling me fall apart was what broke his last bit of control.

With a muffled groan, he buried his face in my neck. His body shuddered violently, and I felt his heat flood inside me, his release following mine in shared, blinding ecstasy.

Afterward, the only sounds were our ragged breathing and the soft crackle of embers in the fireplace.

He didn’t move right away.

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His weight on me was warm and comforting.

His lips brushed my forehead in a gentle kiss, a sharp contrast to the animal intensity from moments before.

Finally, he shifted, rolling onto his side but pulling me with him, fitting my body against his. My face rested on his chest, where I could hear his racing heart slowly begin to calm.

His arms wrapped around me, holding me with a possessiveness that left no room for regret.

Neither of us spoke.

The air still smelled like us. The fire still cast dancing shadows. And the world outside, with all its complications, was still locked away.

On that rug, in each other’s arms, only one simple, powerful truth existed:

This had been inevitable.

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