Lahat ng Kabanata ng I Mistook The Billionaire For A Stripper : Kabanata 71 - Kabanata 80

Chloe My heart skipped a beat. Shit. That was fucking hot. Even after coming, after that toe-curling release, my body still pulsed with need. I wasn't done, we weren't done. I rubbed my soaking wet clit against his cock again, shameless, greedy for the friction. It felt too good, and addicting. And maybe I should’ve been embarrassed, maybe the old me would have been, but with Alexander, I was someone else. So no, I wasn’t surprised by how I moved, or what I wanted. I was thrilled. I was learning what my body could feel, what it could crave. And I was going to make use of every damn second of this. When his cock pressed against me, thick and hot through his pants, I bit my lower lip, stifling a moan. That pressure made the ache in my core throb harder. But it was his eyes, God, those green eyes were truly beautiful. They looked at me as if I was his entire world at that moment, like I was something he couldn’t tear himself away from. The way his gaze dropped to my lips, then to

Chloe I straddled him, skin to skin, my dress bunched around my waist. I felt relaxed under his touch. I flinched slightly as his hard length pressed insistently against me. One arm tightened around my waist, holding me close, while the other slid up beneath my dress. My breath hitched, and I moaned as his fingers found my breast and tugged it free, my nipple was exposed before him. He leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over my skin for just a second as his mouth closed around my nipple. "Ah—Alexander..." I gasped, my fingers tangling into his hair as I clutched at him, grinding my hips against the length. His mouth worked magic, sucking, licking, biting just enough to make me cry out in pleasure. I arched my back, offering more of myself to him, overwhelmed by how good it felt. My moans grew louder, and more desperate. He pulled back slightly, his lips wet and parted, eyes dark and locked on mine. “What do you want?” he asked. My breath quickened. “W-what?” “What’s your

Chloe “Go out with me.” Did he just—? I stared at him, searching his face for some kind of sarcasm, a joke, a punchline, but his expression was serious, like he’d just said something obvious, and his statement was nothing. Except it wasn’t nothing. “You want me….to go out with you?” I asked slowly, trying to make sure I heard it right. “Why?” “Why not?” he replied casually, taking a step toward me. I instinctively took one back. “Uh…because—it’s…” I fumbled for words. “Why would you want that? With me?” He took another step, and my back hit the kitchen island. Before I could retreat again, his hand slipped around my waist and pulled me flush against his chest. Then, without warning, he lifted me effortlessly and set me on the marble counter. My legs dangled uselessly as he stepped between them, his hands braced on either side of me, caging me in. I was trapped. His eyes burned into mine as his hands moved higher up my thigh, nearing the place he had just been moments ago. I

Chloe The kettle was on fire, steam swirling softly around the spout. I dropped the expensive tea bag into the porcelain cup. Logan was in trouble. No matter how many times I repeated it in my head, I couldn't believe it. It was so unbelievable that a man like him could be in trouble. I should have felt dread, but I didn’t. Instead, I felt satisfaction I’d never known. Something that tasted dangerously close to freedom. I shook my head, steadying my hand as I reached for the kettle. Ever since Alexander entered my life, no, ever since I let him into my life, I’d started to change. Or maybe I was returning to who I had been before I was buried under Logan’s name and my mother-in-law’s control. I was about to pour the water when I heard footsteps behind me. “Hi,” a voice said. “Can I help you, Mrs. White?” I didn’t turn around. “No, it’s fine. I can do it.” The footsteps stopped behind me. “I’m Lucy, by the way,” she said, as if we were meeting at a café, not inside the home s

Tristain I replayed the video again. I leaned closer to the screen, squinting, hoping this time I’d catch something different. But it was the same grainy footage I’d watched a hundred times. The Summer family’s personal car drove off in the middle of the night. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, the strands refusing to settle. My fingertips tapped rhythmically against the desk as I hit replay once more. The door creaked open, I didn’t look up. Only one person had the audacity to enter my office without knocking. Clary. A loud thud landed on my desk as she dropped a thick stack of folders. I glanced at them. She huffed. “This is what the captain assigned us to do. Can you imagine that sly fox?” she said dramatically. “This is why you should never be the best at anything. You’ll end up buried in paperwork.” I didn’t respond to her rants, my attention still on the video. She continued. “What am I even saying? The one person responsible for our overload isn’t even listenin