Indebted: Part 2: The Virgin & The Bad-Boy Billionaire (A BWWM Billionaire Romance)

Read Indebted: Part 2: The Virgin & The Bad-Boy Billionaire (A BWWM Billionaire Romance) for Free Online

Book: Read Indebted: Part 2: The Virgin & The Bad-Boy Billionaire (A BWWM Billionaire Romance) for Free Online
Authors: Sadie Black
problem.”
     
    “You think so? I can’t see why.” Matthew slides down onto the limo floor and grabs my hips with his strong hands, flipping me over. He pulls me over the edge of the backseat so I’m leaning over it with my knees on the floor and my ass in the air. I twist my hips, inviting him to touch me as I writhe in anticipation, my face and breasts pressed into the seat.
     
    The heat of his breath is grazing against my thong as he pushes his tongue up against my mound, and I lift my legs up higher so he can tease my clit from behind me. I don’t even care that my panties are a barrier between us; his tongue urgently laps against me until I can’t take anymore. I grip the edge of the back seat as my orgasm pulses through me, making me squirm and grind back against his face.
     
    Matthew kneels behind me and hooks my panties over to the side, finally exposing my sex. He thrusts his cock into me until his body is flat against mine, pinning me to the seat. I groan at the sensation of being filled up so completely, so quickly. Laying against my back, so I’m firmly pressed against the back seat of the limo, Matthew fucks me in short, fast strokes. My pussy squeezes around him every time he pushes all the way into me, making him grunt.
     
    He pulls his chest up from my back and grabs my hips hard, keeping me in place  as he thrusts his cock into me fast and hard. Holding me in place, he pushes deep inside my pussy and groans as he fills me with his seed and then collapses on top of me, wrapping his arms around me.
     
    When our breathing slows, he pulls out of me, and I get my skirt pulled back down and shimmy back up onto the seat. When he joins me, he looks like he just spent hours getting ready. Not a single hair is out of place and his suit drapes perfectly from his shoulders. Matthew pulls me into him, I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heart beating, lulling me into a blissful place between sleep and wake.

Chapter 6
     
    Four skinny white girls are standing nervously in evening gowns. The camera closes up on the one brunette’s face, she looks concerned and perhaps a little angry. The three blond women are barely distinguishable from each other.
     
    “One of these things just doesn’t belong here, one of these things just isn’t the same.” Matthew sings the old Sesame Street song mocking the lone brunette as he walks toward his kitchen with our wine glasses.
     
    The camera pans to Chuck Lawson, another billionaire known for his bad boy antics. A rose twirls between his finger and thumb as he clearly enjoys dragging this out. The dramatic music rises and the models hold their breath. “I choose… “ he looks intensely just past the camera, “Elizabeth.” The young blond trembles and smiles as fat tears roll down her blush covered cheeks and collects her rose.
     
    “Ugh, I can’t believe he picked her!” I turn away from the tv in disgust.
     
    “I can’t believe you watch this show,” Matthew laughs and fills our glasses with the last drops of the white wine.
     
    “Awww, c’mon. It’s not that bad.” I shoot him a look.
     
    He raises his eyebrows at me as he makes his way back across the vast condo to our uncomfortable, but stately place on the love seat. Sitting back down with me, I watch clouds roll in over his blue eyes as he sips his wine.
     
    “These women are so shallow. They don’t care about this guy,” he points at Chuck with his dramatically furrowed brow, smoldering for the camera. “Those types of women have no scruples or self-respect. They’ll do anything for money. I mean, they’re practically prostitutes.” The sparkle extinguishes from Matthew’s blue eyes as he frowns at the nervous women, willing to do anything— to be anything— for a rose.
     
    “Trust me, I know the type,” Matthew murmurs to the last few drops of wine clinging to the bottom of his glass. I watch as a flash of anger streaks across his face like lightning across a summer

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