One Weekend with the Billionaire novel Chapter 36

I am taken aback by Braxton’s generous gift. I can’t believe the trouble he’s gone to in order to create this art room for me. Never in my life has anyone cared enough about me to give me something like this, and even if this is the one and only time I ever get to use it, I will never forget this night for the rest of my life.

It’s been so long since I’ve painted anything, I was nervous to show Braxton my work, but I amazed myself, and it all came back to me, as if I have been painting every day for the last two years. When he admired my work, I couldn’t contain myself. He seemed to really and truly like what I’d painted.

And now, he is kissing me, and his arms are around me, and I’ve forgotten all about the paintings, and the art room, and everything but him.

His lips are on my neck, his teeth nipping as he sucks my skin. His hand slides up the bottom of my top, and I reach around and hold his head, my fingers tangling in his hair, moans escaping my lips as his hand finds my breast. He makes short work of unhooking my bra, and then his hand is on my bare breast, kneading, pinching and pulling my nipple. I wish his mouth was there, but then it wouldn’t be on my neck.

We should probably head back to my bedroom or make our way to his because I’m not going to be able to wait. I want him inside of me so badly, I can hardly contain myself. He is behind me, both of his hands on my breasts, and then my shirt comes off over my head, and I know, I am done for; I am putty in his hands. I lean into him, his hands massaging my breasts, and feel his hard cock against my back. He wants me now, too, and I will not make him wait. He leans down to kiss me and my tongue twists around his as I stand and we are both pulling and tugging our clothing off, shoes flying in all directions, making short work of getting undressed because we need each other’s skin on our own.

Braxton sits on the small stool I’ve been using to paint, and I understand how this will work, even though I’ve never had sex on a stool before, and I’m not sure it will be comfortable. Perhaps we will fall off, a jumble of limbs on the floor, but I am willing to find out. His mouth is still on mine, devouring me as I climb atop him, his dick sliding quickly between my wet lips. I groan, tossing my head back as my body responds to his. It’s as if I’ve come home after a long day, and my pussy is alive, wrapping around his shaft and contracting as we begin to move in a fluid motion.

It isn’t easy, balancing on the stool as we grind against one another, but we are making it work, and he feels so good inside of me, I know this will be a quick fuck. Later, I hope we can take our time and make love in a relaxed, more conventional position in a proper bed, but for now, fucking each other like rabid teenagers who cannot get enough of each other has me spiraling out of control within minutes. My arms wrapped around his muscular shoulders, I pant and let out little ethereal cries of pleasure as Braxton works his hips back and forth, and I rock up and down on him. He is hitting me in all of the right spots, as usual, and I cannot keep enough air in my lungs.