CHAPTER SEVEN

GIANNA

I clench Braxton's dark hair as my orgasm slams into me. Never in my life has a man brought me to climax so quickly or so powerfully.

My entire lower region feels like it's on fire.

I'm spread out on this dining table like a damn whore and I fucking love it. I want him to do all the dirty things to me again and again.

But first, I need him to fuck me.

I need his cock inside me more than I've needed anything. I feel like I'll die if this man walks away from me.

If he wants to meet my father, I'll unlock the door to his damn bedroom if he wants.

I don't care.

I need Braxton Rossi to fuck me. Right. Damn. Now.

"You taste like molten whisky, princess," he says, kissing his way along my inner thigh.

I shudder.

Braxton lifts me so I'm sitting up more carefully than I would have expected, then picks me up off the table and I wrap my legs and arms around him.

"Bed," he says, kissing my lips harshly. "I'm going to fuck you hard. That table will hurt you."

"Do you really care?" I grin.

He places me down on the mattress and stares down at me like he's contemplating the question.

"Yes. I have a feeling you need fucking multiple times. I don't want to damage you...too early."

I grin again and let my legs fall open while Braxton stares down at me as he strokes his cock.

"Then we are on the same page." I reach for my nipples and pinch them, a moan escaping me.

"Get on your knees and head in the pillow." He orders me.

While he's too pretty to not look at while he's fucking me, I trust that his promise will mean I get to stare into those lust-filled eyes of his before this night is over. Then again, he did say he has a meeting around midnight.

I almost snicker at the idea of him kicking me out.

Why does that make me want him more?

Before I shove my head in the plush white pillow, I take in Braxton's physique. Pretty isn't the right word for him.

He's all man.

Strong, ripped, solid as hell.

He has tattoos on his chest, arms, and one along the V that leads to his thick, heavy cock. Which is large. Larger than I've probably seen before.

I lick my lips and he laughs.

"Like what you see, princess?" he says, then I hear the rip of the condom and feel him climb on the bed. "Let's fill this hot, wet pussy."

God, his mouth. It's so dirty it turns me on.

His cock slides through my folds as his hand presses on the small of my back, forcing me to lift my ass farther in the air.

"That's it. Give me good access to this cunt."

Oh fuck.

Then he's at my entrance and the tip of his cock presses in.

I let out a cry.

"Fuck, yes. You're tight," Braxton grounds out. "Jesus, Gianna."

My name on his lips as he presses farther in does something to me. I feel it inside my chest. It's like a damn prayer or something.

I want to tell him not to use my name.

To just fuck me.

Then he's deep, filling me, and my brain is trying to keep up with the feelings rushing through me. He thrusts his hips, then pulls back and does it again.

And again.

I cry out, scrunching the pillow, my eyes pressed tight as pure, absolute pleasure fills every cell in my body.

Suddenly, Braxton flips me over and drops his palms on either side of my head and glares down at me. His cock finds my wet entrance, and he presses inside.

"Why do you feel this fucking good?" he demands.

"More," I cry because I don't know how to answer him.

I don't know why it feels like this. It shouldn't. Or maybe this is what wild, unadulterated fucking is like, and I've been missing out for years.

Slam.

He lifts my hips so he can go deeper and slams his mouth down on mine like he's angry with me for this being amazing. I clutch at his muscular arms, wanting more—more of what?

All I know is I want more of this man when this is over.

Braxton was right.

This isn't happening only once.

I tighten my walls around his shaft as Braxton releases my mouth and works his way down my neck. I arch into his heat and feel him swelling inside me as my second climax nears.

When he lifts and our eyes lock, the smoldering heat within them takes my breath away.

"Come for me, Gianna," Braxton growls in his rich baritone tones. "Come with me."

Jesus.

My body arches as I fall over the cliff and into this man's soul.

––––––––

I T'S JUST SEX.

It's just sex. It's just sex.

I'll keep up these affirmations for as long as I need, but I'm pretty sure they will be useless.

"I'll be thirty minutes," Braxton says, pulling up his pants and tucking his cock away.

He's propped me up in his bed, surrounded by a divine white duvet which I'm pretty sure is made of angel wings and dozens of pillows. I'm drinking a glass of water with electrolytes in.

I'm surprised by his thoughtfulness.

We fucked once more before stopping so he could have his meeting. It was as good as the first time. Only this time, we were in the shower.

Shower sex has always been my favorite fictional sex. Meaning, I never believed a man could truly hold up a woman and make it enjoyable.

I was wrong.

Braxton is strong as hell. Although at this point, I'd be happy with the missionary position all day long if it meant having his magnificent cock inside me.

So far, not one mention of my father.

Or family.

He just desires me.

I feel like I've won the lottery and am actively trying to work out how I keep seeing him.

James did an initial check on him, and I know he'll be digging deeper as they sit downstairs waiting in the car. I consider that, then stop Braxton before he walks out the door.

"My security team is downstairs."

He turns. "Send them home."

I shake my head. "Not possible. My father would hunt you down and kill you."

He frowns. "That would ruin the night."

I chuckle.

"Tell them to get a room. I'm keeping you until morning." Then he turns and walks out as a shiver of excitement runs through me.

God, why does this man make my heart flutter when he is so damn rude?

I love it.