Page 19 of The VIP Package

“Damn right, I am.” He hooks two thick fingers under the strap of my new gray sundress. “You have three seconds to take off this dress, or risk losing another one permanently.”

“You’re a menace to the women’s clothing industry.” But I step from the swing and grab hold of the hem of my dress. “Do I get time to shower first?”

“You do not.” His eyes rake my body as I pull the dress over my head. “I want to taste you just as you are. No flowery soaps or lotions.”

“Jesus.” I can’t believe how aggressive he’s being.

Or how much I like it.

Hayden was a stickler for showers before oral, both for him and for me. He framed it as a form of consideration for each other.

But Ashton Holyfield demanding to taste me just as I am has me peeling off my new panties and kicking them aside. At least I thought to give myself a quick sponge bath in the spa’s locker room when I put on my new dress. Small blessings I’m not steeped in airport funk, or the deposit he left inside me an hour ago.

Holding his gaze, I peel off my bra. Ashton makes a low sound deep in his throat.

“Fuck.” His iron jaw clenches. “You’ve got perfect tits.”

“Oh—it’s the first time you’re seeing them.” I’d almost forgotten the rush we were in before. I never even took off my bra.

Sliding my hands up to cup them, I give him a saucy smile. “They feel even better than they look.” A shudder rolls through me as I stroke my nipples with both thumbs.

He shudders, too. “You are exquisite.”

Exquisite? Who says that?

Bossy, silver-haired billionaires, apparently. It’s insane how much I love this.

“You want to touch?” I step close and his breath stirs my hair. “I have very sensitive nipples.”

The growl that slides out of him sounds feral and wild. His massive cock lurches like it’s trying to grab me.

Then hedoesgrab me. One hand strikes out like a snake, pulling me tight to his chest. He lets go of my hip and glides his hot palms up my body, shoving my own hands aside. Cupping my breasts, he groans.

“Jesus.” He squeezes me roughly, but nottooroughly.

God, that feels good.

“Like that,” I breathe as his thumbs roll my nipples. “Just like that—oh.”

“So fucking soft.” He sounds like he’s praying in church. I’m also a fan of how well he takes direction. He’s touching me just how I said to. Trusting me to know my own body. To say what I like without him taking it as an affront to his ego.

His hands knead my breasts, thumbs caressing me just how I want it. Not content to just stand here, soaking up pleasure, I put my own hands to use. Catching his cock with both hands, I stroke him from root to tip.

“Fuck,” Ashton hisses as I squeeze tighter. “Harder.”

I do as he’s asked, tracing my thumb over his glans. He seems to like that, so I do it again, watching his blue eyes go molten. He’s kneading my breasts more firmly than I’d normally like, but I find myself begging for more.

“Harder,” I urge.

He obliges and nibbles my ear. “Will this be the entirety of our verbal exchange?”

“Just saying ‘harder’ over and over?” I give his granite-like appendage a strong squeeze. “I somehow don’t think so.”

He kisses his way down my throat, dropping to his knees in front of me. There’s something disarming about a powerful man kneeling at my feet. Something even more disarming about him squeezing my breasts together, sucking and nibbling my nipples.

“God,” I grab, gripping his hair in a fist. “Of course you’re good at that, too.”

“Wait ‘til I get my tongue between your legs.”

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