The Billionaire's Proposal

Emma’s POV

The music from downstairs pulsed under my feet, a distant heartbeat dragging through the floor. Up here, in Luca’s bedroom that smelled faintly of cedar and stale cologne, the world had narrowed to the space between our bodies.

 Hannah was somewhere in the swirling crowd below, probably laughing with her soccer friends, completely unaware that her best friend was about to shatter every unspoken rule.

The tequila shots we’d done earlier were a warm, liquid courage coursing through my veins, blurring the sharp edges of my anxiety and amplifying every point of contact between us.

 Luca’s hand was still on my waist, where it had landed when he’d guided me away from the crowded kitchen, his thumb making absent, searing circles on the thin cotton of my dress.

I looked up at him. In the dim light from the desk lamp, his features were all shadows and angles—the strong line of his jaw, the dark intensity of his eyes fixed on me. Hannah’s brother. My best friend’s brother.

 The thought should have been a bucket of ice water. Instead, it was just a flicker, drowned out by the roaring need that had been building all night, every time his shoulder brushed mine, every time he leaned down to hear me over the music, his breath warm on my ear.

His other hand came up, fingers lightly tracing the line of my jaw. A shiver, pure and electric, raced down my spine.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated right through my chest.

“I’m not cold,” I breathed out, the words barely audible.

“I know.”

He dipped his head, his lips hovering a breath away from mine. This is it. This is the point of no return. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trying to escape. I’d never been kissed, not really. Not like this. Not with this kind of intent that promised so much more.

When his lips finally met mine, it wasn’t a question. It was an answer. Soft at first, a testing pressure that sent a jolt straight to my core.

Then deeper, his tongue sweeping along the seam of my lips, and I opened for him with a gasp I didn’t recognize as my own.

 The taste of him—tequila and mint and something uniquely Luca—flooded my senses. His hand slid from my jaw into my hair, tilting my head back, claiming my mouth with a hunger that mirrored the one coiled tight in my belly.

I kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with a growing desperation. My hands, which had been clenched at my sides, found the solid planes of his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. He groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating against my lips, and walked me backward until the backs of my knees hit the edge of his bed.

We broke apart, both breathing heavily. His eyes were black with desire, pupils blown wide. “Emma…” he started, a hint of conflict in his voice.

I didn’t let him finish. The alcohol, the months—no, years—of stolen glances and suppressed feelings, the sheer, overwhelming want… it all crested at once, breaking over me in a wave that washed away every last shred of hesitation.

I placed a finger over his lips. My voice, when it came, didn’t sound like me. It was lower, huskier, filled with a boldness I’d never known I possessed.

“Can I ride you, Luca?”

The words hung in the air between us, shocking in their bluntness. His eyes widened, then darkened further, the conflict evaporating into pure, unadulterated heat. He didn’t speak.

He just reached for the hem of my dress, a simple black slip, and drew it up and over my head in one smooth motion. The cool air of the room kissed my skin, raising goosebumps, but his gaze was like fire, raking over my simple white lace bra and panties.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, the words rough with need. He leaned in, burying his face in the curve of my neck, his lips and teeth grazing my skin, sending another devastating shiver through me.

His hands were everywhere—cupping my breasts through the lace, his thumbs rubbing over my nipples until they tightened into aching points, sliding down my sides to grip my hips.

I pushed gently at his shoulders. “You too. Off.”

A slow, wicked smile touched his lips as he straightened and pulled his own shirt off. I’d seen him shirtless before, at the pool or after a run, but this was different. This was for me. My fingers traced the defined lines of his abdomen, the dusting of dark hair that trailed down from his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. He sucked in a sharp breath at my touch.

I worked the button of his jeans, my fingers fumbling slightly, then dragged the zipper down. He helped me, kicking them off along with his boxers. And then he was just… there. Naked. Fully, magnificently erect. I’d never seen a man like this before, not in real life. A flush of heat spread across my chest and up my neck, a mix of awe and a spike of virginal fear that was instantly consumed by fascination. He was perfect.

Luca sat on the edge of the bed, pulling me to stand between his knees. His hands slid my panties down my legs, his knuckles brushing my inner thighs, making me tremble. Then his mouth was on me, right at the junction of my thigh and hip, kissing, nipping, licking a searing path upward until I was panting.

“Luca, please…”

“Please what?” he murmured against my skin, his breath hot.

“I need… I don’t know what I need. Just… you.”

He guided me onto the bed, laying me back against the pillows. He loomed over me, braced on his arms, his body a tantalizing inch from mine. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” he said, his voice thick but serious. “Say the word and we stop.”

I looked up into his face, saw the concern warring with the desire there, and any last fragment of doubt vanished. I reached between us, wrapping my hand around his Cock. He was so hard, so hot, velvet over steel. He jerked at my touch, a groan tearing from his throat.

“I want this,” I said, meaning it with every fiber of my being. “I want you.”

That was all the permission he needed. He kissed me again, deep and consuming, as his hand slid down my stomach, over my pussy, and his fingers found my core. I was wet, embarrassingly, wonderfully wet, and he growled his approval into my mouth. One finger, then two, slid inside me, and I arched off the bed with a sharp cry.

“So tight,” he breathed, watching my face as his fingers moved, curling in a way that made stars burst behind my eyelids. The sensation was unbelievable—a stretching fullness, a friction that built a desperate, coiling tension low in my belly. He added a third finger, stretching me carefully, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves at my apex.

“I can’t… Luca, I need…”

“I know, baby. I know.”

He shifted, positioning his hard cock between my thighs. The broad, slick head of his dick nudged against my clit. I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him closer. Our eyes locked. In his, I saw my own wild reflection, my lips parted, my hair fanned out on his pillow.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly. “Just look at me.”

He pushed forward.

There was a sharp, stinging pain, a tearing sensation that made me gasp and stiffen. He froze immediately, his body trembling with the effort of holding still.

“Okay?” he gritted out.

I nodded, my nails digging into his shoulders. The pain was already receding, melting into a feeling of being utterly, completely filled. It was overwhelming. His Cock was so deep in my pussy, a pressure and a presence I’d never imagined.

 “Don’t stop.” I moaned.

He began to move. Slowly at first, shallow thrusts that allowed my body to adjust, to accommodate him. The friction was incredible, a hot, sliding drag that sent sparks through my nerves. Each stroke went deeper, hit a place inside me that made me see white.

“Oh, God,” I moaned, my head thrashing on the pillow.

“Feel good?” he rasped, his pace increasing.

“Yes… yes…”

He drove into me harder, faster, the bed frame beginning a soft, rhythmic knock against the wall. The sound was obscenely loud in the room, mingling with our ragged breaths, the wet slap of skin on skin. Every thrust sparked a new wave of pleasure, building on the last, coiling me tighter and tighter. The fear, the virginity, the complicated history—it all burned away in the pure, physical reality of him. Of us.

He lowered his body onto his forearms, crushing me into the mattress, and the change in angle was devastating. He hit a spot deep inside that made me cry out, a broken, sobbing sound of pure ecstasy.

“Right there?” he grunted, aiming for it again, and again.

“Yes, there, please, don’t stop…”

My climax hit me without warning, a tsunami that shattered my world. It rolled up from my toes, a convulsive, electric wave that clenched every muscle in my body, clenched around him, milking him as I screamed his name into the crook of his neck, the sound muffled by his skin.

The feel of me pulsing around him tore his control apart. With a guttural shout, he drove into me one last, deep time, and I felt the hot rush of his release inside me, the throbbing of his own climax. He collapsed on top of me, his weight a warm, welcome anchor as we both spiraled back down, gasping, sweat-slicked, and utterly spent.

For a long time, there was only the sound of our breathing gradually slowing, the distant bass of the party still thumping below. His face was buried in my hair. My legs were still wrapped around him, holding him inside me, not ready to let go of the connection.

Eventually, he shifted, sliding out of me with a soft, wet sound that made me blush. He rolled to his side, pulling me against him, my back to his chest. His arm came around my waist, his hand splayed possessively on my stomach.

“Emma…” he started again, his voice raw.

Then doorknob rattled.

Then Hannah’s voice, bright and slightly slurred, called from the other side. “Luca? You in there? Emma’s missing, have you seen— The door’s locked?”