Give Me More--A Sexy Billionaire Romance by A.C. Arthur (detective books to read txt) 📕

matched all the chrome fittings throughout the space. It was elegant and lavish and exactly the type of place where the Golds would hold a wedding.

With a soft sigh, she opened the glass door again and stepped inside. Okay, there were two showerheads in here, one at the ceiling with dual recessed lighting and one on the wall in the usual spot. There was enough space in here for her to have at least four friends over and, thank all the deities, there was also a bench. After washing her body and hair she was tempted to get out and fall onto the bed—to possibly cry over the disaster the night had been—but thoughts of RJ held her still.

He used to love washing her, dragging the soapy loofah over her skin in movements so slow and decadent she thought she’d died and gone to the best spa in heaven. His big hands could provide such a gentle and soothing touch, and the way he stared at her while he was doing it... She sighed and dragged her tongue slowly across her bottom lip. The water was getting cool so she turned the nozzle until more hot water pounded against her skin. Lifting her face to the spray until it cascaded over her, she moaned at the warmth flooding her.

RJ always washed every other part of her body before easing his hands between her legs. On a ragged moan she resisted the urge to push her hands in that direction. Instead she reached up and grabbed the handheld showerhead from its base on the wall. Lifting her leg, she placed one foot on the bench and edged the shower head down between her thighs, letting the warm spray of water pelt her there.

A soft sigh slipped free at how good the water felt on her sensitive skin, and she let her head fall back, eyes closing. She recalled the many times RJ had rinsed her body free of all soap, moving his hands over her slick skin. His complexion was just a shade or two darker than hers, their melanin always shining bright in pictures they took, leaving her with snapshots of the Black love they celebrated so freely. She missed him.

She put her leg down and turned so she could sit on the bench, then leaned back against the marble wall, lifting the showerhead to her breasts now. She missed everything about RJ, from his tongue on her nipples to the way his thick fingers pushed possessively inside her pussy. Both her legs came up this time, feet planted on the bench as she let her knees fall to the side. With one hand she aimed the showerhead at her clit; with the other she pressed a finger to the same tightened bud and began to rub.

She moaned loudly, the sound echoing throughout the stall as she worked herself into a fevered frenzy. He’d looked good tonight, even in simple sweats and a T-shirt. His arms were still strong and muscled, and his thighs—damn that man had thick, sexy thighs and those sweatpants did nothing to hide that fact. Something else the pants didn’t hide was the impression of what she knew was a long, heavy dick. On that memory she slid her fingers over the slick flesh of her pussy, easing two into her opening. Crying out with the pleasure, she then bit down gently on her bottom lip and began to pump her fingers inside while the hot water rained down over her skin.

RJ used to go so deep inside her she felt like they were connected. And that’s exactly what he’d whisper to her: “You’re a part of me now.” Over and over he’d say those words, and she’d believed them. She’d wanted to be a part of him, a part of the love that had blossomed so wildly between them. She’d wanted it all. Until it became clear that she couldn’t have it.

With that last thought her fingers moved faster, pressing her body to find the release she needed so desperately. Circling her hips, she matched her own rhythm, chest heaving, breasts jiggling with the motion. Water still rained down from the showerhead in the ceiling, pelting the floor of the shower like background music to this personal seduction. Her body tingled as pleasure surged through every crevice, edging her closer to the precipice. Sliding her fingers out of her opening, she went back to working her clit, circling it frantically, panting, waiting, wanting, needing this release like she needed to live. When her climax came it was strong, seizing her entire body and snatching her breath for the seconds it took for her to fall.

Moments later she was sated, tired, pissed about her broken vibrator and still totally confused as to what her next steps with RJ would be.

The first thing RJ did upon returning to his suite was boot up his laptop and search: Grace Hopkins, journalist, New York. He’d tried not to keep close tabs on her over the years, figuring it was counterproductive to continue longing for a woman who didn’t want him. Now, since that woman had decided to step back into his—or rather, his family’s life—he wanted to know everything.

Pictures of her appeared on the screen and he sat back in the chair rubbing a finger over his chin. She was still fine as ever. Her skin was like the smoothest chocolate covering her svelte body, with curvy hips and more than ample breasts. She’d always worn her hair long, and tonight it had hung in waves past her shoulders. Her breasts had looked amazing in the tight T-shirt, nipples so hard he’d wanted desperately to rub his fingers over them. He licked his lips, knowing he’d never get that image of her looking so damn alluring out of his head. From the laptop screen her whiskey-brown eyes stared back at him, tauntingly, seductively. One hand curled into a fist while the other fingers continued to worry over the