Page 67 of Most Eligible Billionaire

I crash over the edge. White-hot pleasure. Naked and alive.

“I gotcha, baby.” He pins me to a pillar high above the city, raining kisses over my face. I’m lost. I’m found. I clutch his arms, kissing him back.

“Damn,” he says again. As though the whole thing surprised him.

I feel shaky all over. And fresh and new.

I don’t care what’s real or not.

I’m all-in.

I drop to my knees, gazing up at him. I fit my hand over his bulge and give it a small squeeze.

“Jesus.” He tunnels both hands into my hair, half ripping it out of the ponytail holder.

With shaking hands I undo his belt. He takes over, quickly undoing it. “Leave it to the professionals,” he says.

And then he touches my chin. I think he’s about to explode, but he touches my chin. Like he kind of can’t believe I’m in front of him.

I love his eyes on me. I love the sunshine of his gaze. I usually prefer the shadows, but Henry’s breaking all the rules.

I pull him out; he’s big, broad, and club-like, pink at the tip. Soft as silk.

Watching him from underneath my lashes, I give him a lick.

He stutters out a breath. “Do you know how hot that is?”

So I do it again. I really will give him anything.

I turn my attention to his cock in earnest. I take him into my mouth, squeezing him at the root. A pained sound escapes him. Fingers close over my head. He starts to thrust gently into me, guiding my head but not forcing it.

A triangle of his belly is exposed and it pulses in and out, like he’s breathing double time.

I squeeze the warm, velvety base of him. I take him deep.

His fingertips pulse and curl at my scalp with every thrust, like his excruciating pleasure is coming out his fingers. I sneak a look at him standing over me, broken and beautiful.

And then I give him a little teeth, just a graze at the bottom. “Holy shit,” he says.

He clamps his hand onto my head and takes over the motion, fucking my face, coming with a strangled cry.

After he pulls out, he kneels in front of me. “Holy shit,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” I say.

He traces my lips with his finger. “It was more. How you were was more than I imagined. You’re always more.”

I put my camisole’s bra cups back over my breasts. He starts buttoning up my buttons. Clumsily.

“The professionals,” I say, taking over.

He stands, tucking in his shirt. “Gotta get you cleaned up.” We get ourselves together and drift over to the elevator.

Nineteen

Vicky

I stab the makeshift button,feeling dazed.Stab stab.

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