The Billionaire's Fake Fiance

Chapter Thirty Three

She moaned his name, and he felt odd satisfied as he unzipped her blue dress and it slipped down on the floor, leaving her only in her underwear. Her bra was blue in colour too, and she looked divine, her ivory skin shining like cream in the white light. He put her up in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist as her body pressed onto his.

Richard felt wonderful.

She was a perfect fit for his arms. He couldn't control himself anymore, so he walked toward the wooden, mahogany table and made her sit there, her legs still wrapped around him. She looked at him, "We're really gonna do this?"

He took her mouth in his, tonguing inside, getting a thorough taste of her that made him breathless. "Mmm,"

"Don't you hate me for being Elizabeth's daughter?" She asked, innocently.

"No, I....can never hate you...." He said, and found her splaying her hands against his chest. "What are you doing?"

"Feeling you." She whispered.

"I wanna feel you, too." His ran his hands up and down her body, her skin coming across creamy soft. "You're so soft, all over." He unclipped her bra, letting it fall down.

She stifled a giggle as he round up his palm to cup one breast, using his other hand to hold her waist. He loweres his face, taking her nipple into his mouth, feeling himself totally aware of her breathy moans. Simultaneously teasing her, he started to unfasten his shirt buttons, acutely aware that his hands had started to shake. 

The button refused to part company with the buttonhole, an unprecedented development. Normally, he could get out of his clothes really fast, but this time, he was painfully amateur. He wasn't a sex addict, before Jean, he had only one girlfriend, back in college days who he'd had sex with. He was a demisexual, and he believed only a strong emotional connection could coerce him to make love.

"Do you n-need help?" she asked in a tremulous voice.

She reached up to assist him, her slender fingers claiming victory where his own had suffered defeat. Her cheeks pinkened as his shirt fell down toward his shoulders, her soft hands descended to the next button, her fingertips slipping the iridescent disk from its hole. Her gaze clung to his, as if by looking at him, she drew courage.

Her red hair looked beautiful, and seeing her up so close, he realised not an inch of her was like Elizabeth. Maybe, yes, her red hair and her features matched with her mom, but not entirely, he could argue. Her hair was a softer red, not a gaudy or an unnecessarily savage red, like her mom. Her freckles were cuter, sprinkle only on her nose like sprinkled chocolate crumbs. Even in the similar features, this woman in front of him, had an uniqueness of her own.

He felt his shirt slipping down on the floor, leaving him bare-chested. With each downward progression of her slender fingers, his heart slammed more violently. When at last she had undone every button, she let her hands fall on his chest, and lowered her gaze, her dark lashes forming thick, silky crescents against her flushed cheeks. Her fingers cascaded from his chest to his hard abdomen, a sharp suck of breath being heard from her.

"Jean, you can touch me, properly, if you want..." He caught her chin in his hand and forced her to look up at him.

It was invitation enough. He swallowed, unable to escape the appeal in those melting blue eyes. His hand shook as he smoothed a rebellious tendril of wavy, fiery red hair from her cheek. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he asked her softly. "Or how much I want you?"

"Oh, Rich…" She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward to rub the tip of her nose against his. "I can't believe you want me." It was more of a statement of surprise rather than a normal phrase.