All Chapters of The Baker's Billionaire : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

MARIONDemetria groaned beneath me, her nails digging into my shoulders like she was holding on for dear life. The sound of her voice, the way she trembled, only drove me harder. My mouth trailed down her neck, tasting her, biting, breathing her in.Her pussy gripped me so tight I swore I’d lose my mind. Every thrust had me deeper, harder, claiming her in ways no other man ever would.“Fuck…” I groaned against her ear, my voice rough, raw. “You feel so damn good. I wish I could bury myself in this pussy forever.”Her body shuddered around me, her moans filling the darkened room, but I didn’t slow down. My hands slid from the back of her thighs to her ass, lifting her, pulling her against me so I could change the angle. The new position made her cry out, and I smirked—yeah, I found her spot.She clenched around me, and I swore under my breath. “Damn… this pussy’s too good,” I growled, thrusting deeper, each stroke hitting harder than the last.Her eyes fluttered shut, lost to the rhyth

MARION I didn’t bother going home to change before meeting the construction team downtown. Time is money, and I wasn’t about to waste either. Instead, I sent Stephen to bring me a fresh outfit. Efficient, clean, simple. “You’re impossible.” Recalling Demetria’s words after that kiss in front of her bakery, I couldn’t stop the smirk tugging at my lips. She always had something to say after an encounter with me. Sharp, defiant, and laced with that fire she carries everywhere she goes. And damn, I liked provoking it. She always does. That woman resists me at every turn, firing back with those sharp words and sharper looks. She’s a wildfire, always ready to consume and reduce a man to ash. But me? I’m built to tame flames. I’ll snuff her out and enjoy the burn while I’m at it. The thought pulled a low snicker out of me as I stepped out of the car. Stephen parked outside the half-finished tower where my new casino was taking shape. Steel and glass stretched into the Los Angeles skyl

MARIONI leaned back in the leather seat of my SUV and let out a sharp, humorless chuckle. After Stephen slid his phone across to me when I saw the news while in my office, I wished Paula were right in front of me to strangle her neck. I don’t hurt women. But for her, she’ll be my first.“She wants to try her bullshit games with me?” I muttered.The headline on TMZ practically screamed at me: “Paula Watkins: The Future Mrs. Whitfield?”Future Mrs. Whitfield? My jaw tightened when I read the subheading. Some so-called “exclusive sit-down” where she dropped hints, playing coy about our connection when we were together. My connection? No, this was her stunt. Paula was smart, dangerously smart. She knew how to bend the media to her will, painting herself as some inevitable chapter in my story.“Whatever nonsense she sat there and spewed,” I murmured, my fingers drumming against my knee, “she’d better retract every word. And fast.”The views were already in the millions. Escalating by the

DEMETRIA“You don’t give up, do you?” I asked, arms folded, glaring at him like the nuisance he was. “I’ve blocked you on everything, Mark. Yet here you are again, like gum on the bottom of my shoe.”His jaw clenched. “Marion Whitfield? Really, Demetria?”I laughed. Loud, sharp, and sarcastic. “Oh, so now you keep up with my love life? Funny how you couldn’t even keep up with me when we were together.”He flinched but pushed forward. “He’s not good for you.”“And you were?” I arched a brow. “Please. Spare me the revisionist history. You were only consistent at one thing: excuses.”Mark stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I saw you at the gala. On social media. That dance, that kiss… You really think he’s serious about you? He’s Marion Whitfield. The man probably has women lined up in every time zone.”I smirked. “And yet, out of all those time zones, he was kissing me. Not you.”His nostrils flared. “I’m serious, Demetria. Give me a chance. Let me prove I can be better this time.”I t

DEMETRIAMy phone buzzed on the nightstand just as I was about to slip out of bed. Anastasia. I swiped to answer, already smiling.“Happy birthday, Wildfire!” her voice sang through the receiver, full of energy even this early.I laughed, groaning playfully. “It’s too early for all that noise, Anas.”“Too early? Girl, it’s your birthday. I should be outside your window with mariachis and balloons.”I snorted. “Please don’t.”She ignored me, her tone shifting to teasing. “Sooo… what’s the plan with Mr. Whitfield tonight, huh? Candlelight dinner? Helicopter ride? Jet to Paris?”I rolled my eyes, though I could feel myself blushing. “Stop it. It’s just dinner.”“Uh-huh. Just dinner with the man who kissed you in front of your bakery like he owned you.”“Anas!” I squealed, burying my face in the pillow.“Don’t even try to deny it. Anyway, you'd better close the bakery early, fix your nails, and style that hair. No excuses. I want you looking like the queen you are.”I sighed dramatically.