I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis novel Chapter 219

219 Consummation

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When the climax hit, it crashed over us in waves–simultaneous, shattering.

Ashton buried his face in my neck, growling my name as he spilled into me, his muscles taut and trembling.

I clung to him, my heart racing, breath ragged.

I thought it was over, but then his lips found mine again, softer this time, and his voice rumbled against my

skin.

“One more time.”

And I let him take me again. Harder this time. Faster.

Again and again, until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.

The pressure behind my eyes faded, colors bleeding into one another at the edges of my vision.

I must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing I registered was Ashton’s voice–low and coaxing, calling me back.

“One more time.”

I woke up tangled in his arms, my face warm and damp, eyelids heavy.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across his chest.

He was still half–curled around me, breathing steady, asleep.

I didn’t move. I just lay there, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek.

Everything felt… right.

Until his hands started roaming.

From the corner of my mouth, down my neck, along my collarbone, tracing the curve of my waist.

His palm stayed pressed against my skin, reluctant to pull away.

I pulled back to look at his face.

His eyes were still closed.

“You awake?”

“No,” he said.

“Liar. What time is it?”

“Two in the afternoon.”

“What?” I sat up, slapped his hand away.

“Anything hurting?”

“Ow!”

“Just sore. And keep your hands to yourself.” My skin smelled clean. “Did you give me a bath?”

He nodded, kissed my cheek. “Let’s have another. This time with you awake.”

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Chapter 219 Consummation

“Nope.” I tried to shuffle out of bed, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate.

His hands landed on my waist again. “Sore? I’ll give it a tub.”

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It helped a little. The way his hands stroked, kneaded, and rolled felt like he’d studied massage somewhere.

The pressure soothed some of the tension.

But then his hands strayed, fingers teasing beyond comfort.

I caught his wrist before it went any further. “I’m starving. Can we eat?”

“Sure.” Ashton let go, still grinning.

I shot him a look, shoved the sheets down, and realized I was naked.

I yanked the blanket back over my chest. “Can you grab me a nightdress or something?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Yeah.”

He threw the covers off and stood.

I saw everything. Broad shoulders. Muscled thighs.

He strolled to the wardrobe as if he wasn’t completely naked, slid the door open, picked through the hangers, then turned and came back without covering a single inch of himself.

I tried not to stare.

“Here.” He stopped at the edge of the bed, holding up one of my silk slips, arm stretched full length, completely out of reach.

I threw off the duvet and stood, snatched the nightdress from his hand, and tugged it on without bothering

to turn away.

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