The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 32. Tasted Like Heaven.

She tasted like heaven.

Alaric’s tongue parted Nicolette’s lips, tasting her completely.

Nicolette shifted in his arms.

He pulled her even closer, drowning in the sweetness of her mouth. His lips traveled down to her neck, and a small, dangerous sound escaped her.

He dug deeper into the hollows of her neck, his common sense completely overshadowed by desire.

When he returned to her lips, she kissed him with fervor, more confidently now, her hands wrapping tightly around his neck.

His hand dropped to her butt, pushing her closer so he could stroke his hardness against her stomach.

Fuck.

Her ass was as soft as he had imagined, and he drummed his fingers around her curves.

With one hand on her butt, he lifted the other to her breasts, and she melted when his fingers found one of her hardened nipples.

Her knee buckled, making her almost trip.

He held her tighter, preventing her from sending both of them to the ground.

Their lips parted, and they both chuckled, their eyes meeting, just before their mouths found each other again.

This time the kiss was urgent.

Passionate.

Fast, with a rhythm that took his own breath away.

He reached for her breasts again and she moaned, grinding her core against his thighs. He thumbed her nipple and the bud stood, reacting to his touch.

"Come," he said, his voice thick with pleasure.

He took her by the hand and laid her gently on the bed.

Something flicked in her eyes.

Doubt? Hesitation? Regret?

But before he could read meaning into it, Nicolette pulled him closer for another passionate kiss.

He drowned in her touch as her fingers traced the lines in his chest.

He had to have her now.

He needed to have her right now.

Alaric adjusted her on the bed. He paused, trying to read the expression on her face.

Did she want him to go further?

But when he saw no protest in her eyes, he slowly buried his face in her belly. He showered her with kisses—each one making her sizzle.

She ran a hand through his blonde hair, tugging at the root of it.

He took his mouth up, licking the lines between her stomach until his lips connected with her breasts.

He took one pink nipple into his mouth with a slow, careful pace.

Fuck! She was delicious.

And he couldn’t wait to find out how the other part of her body tasted.

He moved to the other nipple, with the same pace. He took the bud between his teeth, biting it with just enough pain, just enough pleasure.

Her body jerked and she parted her legs.

"I’m ready, Robert."

Alaric froze.

Who the fuck is Robert?

He cocked his head, looking at her. But she was too far gone. Her eyes were shut, and she was moving with urgency, like she wanted to be touched.

Nicolette reached for him, and when her hand touched his face, he realized he was willing to forgive that mistake.

It was in the heat of the moment.

He moved his mouth to her breast, willing to continue the foreplay, but he realized the momentum wasn’t there as before. So, he decided to go straight in between her legs.

He nudged her legs open with his nose and breathed in her heat.

Delicious.

Divine.

Oh God, he was afraid he wouldn’t last with how eager she was, how wet her core was.

Alaric was about to delve in, about to taste her when she jerked again.

"Fuck, Robert yes."

That was it.

The name immediately flattened his arousal, and annoyance replaced the passion in his chest.

Fuck.

Common sense took over as he slowly rose to his feet.

Nicolette’s legs were still parted and despite the fact that he could see her opening, his body wasn’t in it anymore.

He paused.

What was he supposed to say?

How was he supposed to snap her out of it?

He cleared his throat, stepping back, the abruptness of the foreplay clawing at his heart.

Nicolette shot her head up, her eyes widened with a mixture of confusion and surprise. She looked at him, her voice cracking.

"What?"

He looked away, pain snagging at his chest.

She didn’t know!

She had no idea she had blurted out another man’s name!

Regret brushed his chest briefly before resolution immediately settled in. He shouldn’t feel guilty for anything.

When Nicolette realized he wasn’t saying anything, she closed her legs—much to his heartbreak—and wrapped her hands around her body.

She bit her lip, her cheeks turning red as she looked away.

Her hurt, her embarrassment, his guilt intensified his discomfort, and he scratched his head.

"I should leave."

"Yes... you..." she stuttered, her voice cracking.

The vulnerability in her tone tightened his chest, making him hard again. But before she would notice his growing length, he turned towards the door.

"Good night," he said without looking, and left.

When he got to his room, he stomped his feet. "Fuck!"

But he didn’t even know who he was angry at.

Was he angry at himself?

Or was he angry at Nicolette?

He clenched his fists, the anger building up in his chest. Careful not to disturb Bagel, he moved to his bed.

Damn, he smelled like sweat.

He smelled like her.

He stood up, took off his shorts and shirt, and entered the bathroom. He waited for the water to hit, for it to wash away every scent of her on his body.

"Stupid girl," he muttered, but images of her opening filled his head.

He groaned, wishing he had plunged his tongue in there—or even his fingers. To explore. To feel.

His body jerked and before he could stop himself, his hand went down and he touched himself.

"Nicolette..." he moaned, his hand wrapped around his length, jerking up and down.

He shut his eyes to the pleasure.

He imagined it was her hands on him.

He imagined her butt. The feel.

He squeezed her butt and his pace on himself increased.

"Nicolette..." he groaned.

He saw her.

She was here with her erect pink nipple and her soft eyes.

Her hand grabbed his member and he moaned again.

She looked at him.

He saw the opening between her legs.

She moaned out loud—but this time she was calling his name.

He was calling her name.

His body jolted and his heart pounded.

"Fuck, Nicolette!" he groaned as he shot his release all over the bathroom floor.

Slowly, Alaric caught his breath, trying to control his racing heart.

What the hell was that?

Before emotions could cloud his brain again, he took his bath, finally washing off her scent, finally relaxing.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, relief swam through him as he sat on the bed. He had barely settled when there was a knock on his door.

His heart flipped, but he answered. "Yes?"

"It’s Anna, sir," Anna said from the other side. "Your... mother is downstairs waiting for you."

He immediately frowned. "My mother?"

"Yes, sir."

"I’m on my way."

"Alright, sir," Anna said and then left.

What was Clara doing here?

He knew the answer. He just didn’t think she would come all the way just because he had been avoiding her calls.

He got up and changed into another shirt and shorts. He glanced at Bagel who was still sleeping soundly before he stepped out of the room.

When he got downstairs, he was surprised to see Violet sitting on the couch next to his mother.

He tilted his head, his annoyance deepening. "What is she doing here?"

Clara uncrossed her legs before tapping at two boxes by the couch’s arms. "I read Ronald’s news, darling, and I decided to bring Violet here, since you’re still so confused. She will be living with you as your future wife. That’s the only woman I want to see here."

Alaric folded his arms, too stunned to speak.

Why the hell would his mother do this?