The Billionaire Who Knows My Secret

Chapter 2

Jalen's POV

Firmly, not gentle, and he kissed me like he’d been waiting hours to do it.

Slow at first, then deeper, tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees soften. He bit the back of my neck, gently and just right.

I opened for him immediately, letting him take what he wanted. My hands found his chest, fingers curling into the crisp fabric of his shirt, feeling the hard planes beneath.

He walked me backward until my calves hit the edge of the bed. Only then did he break the kiss, breathing steady while mine was already ragged.

He peeled his jacket off, then my shirt, buttons slipping free one by one. When my chest was bare he dragged his palms down my ribs, thumbs brushing my n*****s until they peaked, sharp and sensitive.

I gasped quietly, involuntary, and he did it again, slower, watching my face. I reached for his belt. He let me undo it, let me push his trousers down just enough.

His c**k was already thick and heavy when I wrapped my hand around him.

It was like velvet over steel. He exhaled through his nose, a low sound that vibrated in his throat, but he didn’t rush me.

He just stood there and let me stroke him while his fingers worked my own belt open, shoved my pants and briefs down in one motion.

Naked now, skin against skin. He pushed me onto the mattress, onto my back, and climbed over me, caging me with his arms.

His mouth found my throat, teeth grazing just hard enough to make me arch. Then lower.

Nipples again, sucking one, then the other, wet and deliberate until I was squirming, my hips lifting uselessly.

He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand, the other sliding down to cup my balls, rolling them gently, then firmer, until I was leaking against my stomach.

“Please,” I whispered, barely a sound. He didn’t answer with words. He answered by spreading my thighs wider, settling between them.

His fingers found the tip of my c**k, slick already from how turned on I was, he went downward till he was at my asshole, and he pressed one finger inside, slow, careful, letting me adjust, then two.

Crooked them. Found that spot. I bucked, a broken moan tearing out of me. He kept that rhythm, steady, relentless, until my legs were trembling and I was begging without shame.

When he finally pulled his fingers free I felt empty, aching. He reached for the nightstand, to grab the lube and a condom, he rolled it on with practiced ease.

Then he lined himself up, the blunt head pressing against me. He pushed in slow at first, one long, inexorable slide that stretched me open, filled me until I couldn’t breathe right.

When he bottomed out he paused, forehead pressed to mine, letting me feel every inch of him.

Then he started to move, it just felt right and consuming. Deep, rolling thrusts that dragged against every sensitive place inside me.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him harder, deeper.

He gave it to me, faster now, hips snapping, the wet slap of skin loud in the quiet room. One hand braced beside my head, the other wrapped around my c**k, stroking in time with his thrusts.

I was loud, couldn’t even help it. Moans, gasps, his name once or twice.

He didn’t shush me. He just f****d me harder, like he wanted to hear every sound I made.The pressure built fast, too fast.

Heat coiled low in my belly, balls drawing tight. I tried to warn him but all that came out was a choked “I’m…” before my body locked up.

I came hard, spilling over his fist, pulsing around his c**k, vision whiting out at the edges.

That heavy, shuddering sigh of relief rolled out of me as the waves kept coming, leaving me boneless, trembling.

I had never been f****d this good, it had always been quick experiences I wasn't even sure I totally enjoyed, Kristofer made me experience a part of orgasm I had not known existed within me.

Kristofer didn’t stop, he only chuckled and continued f*****g me through it, three, four more deep strokes, then buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, guttural groan.

I felt him pulse inside me, hips jerking once, twice.

He collapsed forward, weight pinning me to the mattress, chest heaving against mine.

His breath was hot against my neck.For a long minute I lay there under the weight of him, still catching my breath, chest rising and falling against his.

His c**k had softened inside me but he hadn’t pulled out yet, and I didn’t want him to.

Not quite yet. The room was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning and the slow thump of our hearts slowing together.

After a minute, or maybe five, he shifted, easing out carefully. I felt the absence like a small, hollow ache.

He rolled to the side, grabbed a tissue from the nightstand, dealt with the condom, then came back to me.

No words. Just his arm sliding around my waist again, pulling my back to his chest, his chin tucked against my shoulder.

His skin was still hot and sticky.I turned my head just enough to see his face in the low light, eyes half-lidded, mouth soft in a way I hadn’t seen all night.

He looked… satisfied. Not triumphant. Just done, in the best way.

My own body was heavy, limbs loose, the aftershocks still flickering under my skin. I let out another long, shaky exhale, the kind that comes after you’ve been holding tension for years and finally let it go.

He felt it. His fingers traced lazy circles over my hipbone, not possessive, not promising anything.

Just there.I swallowed.

“This…” My voice came out rough, quieter than I meant. “This is just tonight, right?” He didn’t answer right away.

His thumb kept moving, slow and steady. Then he pressed his lips to the back of my neck, once, firm, deliberate.

“Yeah,” he murmured against my skin. Barely audible.

“Just tonight.” But he didn’t move away. Didn’t roll over to his side of the bed like people do when they’re drawing the line.

Instead he tightened his arm a fraction, pulled me closer until there was no space left between us.

His leg hooked over mine again, heavy and warm, like he was anchoring me there.

I waited for the usual post-s*x awkwardness, the sudden need for distance, the polite excuses, the “I should probably get going” even though it was the middle of the night. This was in a way I had never experienced before.

His breathing deepened, slowed. Mine matched it without trying.I felt the words we hadn’t really said settle between us like smoke, this is all it is, this doesn’t have to be all it is, we both know better than to ask for more but right now, right here, we’re not done yet.

Neither of us moved to break the spell. His hand eventually stilled on my stomach.

His exhale against my neck turned long and even.

My eyes drifted shut.The last thing I registered was the faint scent of him, cedar, sweat, s*x, and the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back.

Then sleep took us both.