Page 25 of Conning the Billionaire
He bent and kissed her again, harder this time, his tongue invading her mouth before she had quite opened it and the rod in his pants pressing between her legs.
His fingers curled around her ass and dug into her flesh.
Now that was more like it.
Kylie kissed him back, kissed him until she was dizzy, as he grabbed her and pressed her back against the cold glass.
When she tilted her head back to gasp air, he spun her around using her wrists like she was a jazz bass and shoved her face-first against the window. He gripped her ass, practically lifting her butt cheek as he growled against the back of her neck and raked his teeth over her shoulder.
The puffs of his warm breath with whiffs of liquor drifted down her naked back.
Kylie moaned, letting her head drop backward, and desire for him spun the hotel around her like she was drunk. She’d had one weak restaurant cocktail. This dizziness was her own body wanting his.
His huge hand clamped around her wrists made her feel caged, and his hand grasping her hip as he nipped the skin on the back of her neck hard drove a feeling of helplessness into her mind.
And Kylie gave up.
Scamming him flew away from her mind. The constant, aching worry about her mom and sister dropped away. The calculations that churned in her mind about how much money she’d made that week minus Salvatore Grande’s cut and less the amount that Alma needed for her kid, and dividing the result by the rent due in a week for the percentage she was still missing, and then food, and oil for the tank in the basement, and the water bill, all of that ground to a stop.
His mouth on her neck.
The heat of his breath on her skin.
His hand gripping her butt through her dress and then, after he yanked the fabric up around her waist, the heat and tightness of his hand on her ass.
“Lace.” His voice grated. “Lace panties are for innocent girls. You’re not an innocent girl, are you?”
Kylie rolled her feverish forehead on the cold glass.
“You want me to take you here?” he growled in her ear. “Up against the glass, so anyone can see you splayed naked?”
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“Or do you want me to drag you to the bed by your hair, throw you over it, and take you face-down?”
Her voice caught. “Yes.”
“Maybe you want me to take you all night, take you rough until it hurts and you’re crying, and then fuck your ass, too.”
“Yes,” she whispered, the hotel spinning around her.
He spun her around to face him again, and his opalescent eyes glittered with sparks like blue fire. “You think you can push me? Do you think you can make me lose my goddamn control by being a dirty girl like that? Like you’ll do anything I want, like I’ll lose my goddamn mind and use your body until you’re fucking broken?”
Kylie shook her head, rolling the back of her skull on the window glass.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
He scooped Kylie up in his arms, carrying her like she was a ragdoll. She grabbed his neck, but he’d already kicked open the door to his bedroom and tossed her onto the wide bed.
Kylie clutched the bedspread as she bounced, but the blond Italian was already on top of her, pinning her with one knee between her legs and the weight of his body.
In her ear, he growled, “I’d better hear some enthusiastic consent, dirty girl, or I’ll throw you out of this hotel room.”
“Yes,” Kylie gasped, getting just enough air as he grabbed the spaghetti strap of her dress and yanked it down her arm, baring her tits.
His mouth settled over her breast, warmth and humidity, a hard pull, and then the sharpness of his teeth.
Kylie’s back arched off the bed. “Oh my God, yes.”
