Page 91 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

His eyes drop to my lips, and suddenly the pad of his finger is there, a whisper of a touch on my bottom lip, the weight of a butterfly.

I close my lips over the tip of his finger and suck. Like it was always meant to be, like me sucking on his fingertip was predestined. Unavoidable as air.

Lewdly, he pushes his finger deeper into my mouth. Just invades it. “Suck it,” he commands in his stern Mr. Drummond tone. “Show me how you’re going to suck my cock.”

I give him a look that says, you are SUCH an asshole! Being that his finger’s in my mouth, the look’s mostly in my eyes and a little bit in my cheeks.

“I know,” he says softly. “But I’ll make it so good.”

His other hand is on my knee. He’s pressing it wide. He takes back his finger so he can grip my other knee, spreading me open.

The cool air hits my clit. Time seems suspended as he kisses down my chest, down my belly. Lips hot and dangerous. A shuddery breath comes out from somewhere deep inside me as he reaches my pussy.

I’m so exposed to him. More exposed to him than I’ve ever been to any man.

He pauses there between my legs, and then I feel it—his tongue like a wet, hot finger on my seam. He licks me lazily but firmly. He sends tremors of heat all through me.

My eyelids flutter shut as the room lurches sideways.

He licks me again. My sex heats and swells. I grab onto his hair. His fingertips dig into the flesh of my thighs, pulsing slightly as he licks. His fingers will leave marks. I want them to.

His tongue invades my folds. Every lick sends heat shivering over my damp skin. “Holy shit,” I breathe.

Suddenly he sucks something down there, a sharp surprise. I gasp. Then he licks me some more, and then I think I feel his bad-boy lip scar and my mind explodes.

“Do anything,” I say. “Or everything.” I barely make sense anymore. And why try?

He continues to consume me, holding me the way he wants me. I pulse my hips against his greedy mouth, undulating into him.

He groans, a hot rumble against me.

“I can’t…not…”

“Do it, then; do it,” he grates into my folds, licking me, driving me higher. He’s a predator, hunting down my orgasm and pulling it out of me. “Come, Seven.”

I have no choice—he shoves his fingers into me, licks me again, and I cry out. I’m spinning, breaking into blobs of white heat.

He licks me into oblivion.

I clench his hair. “Softer,” I rasp.

He lightens up. Then he just rumbles into my pussy, words or maybe moans.

He kisses my trembling thighs—slow and scalding. Then he kisses my still-sensitive post-orgasm pussy, like a sweet electric shock.

I hiss and nearly pull his hair out.

“God,” he whispers into my still-quivering sex. “God.” Like he’s going crazy. Maybe he is. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

I want to make some joke about how he is literally staring at my pussy while he says that, but it comes out as “Uhhh.”

He sits up after a while, heavy hand on my calf, sliding it around, watching me. “Is this where you call me? From this bed?”

“Yeah.”

He looks around, taking it all in, then turns back to me. “Lying right there?”

I nod, still breathless.

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