Page 91 of Return Billionaire to Sender

“Don’t you want to…” I nudge him upwards. My one long-term boyfriend only did this to prime the pump, so to speak. He never just kept on and on. It seems like a wild luxury, totally one-sided.

Malcolm just growls into my pussy, which feels so good, I might just lose my mind.

“If you keep going, I might not let you stop,” I say.

“Are you ready to quiet down and enjoy this?”

“You are so getting an X,” I say. “Not playing by the rules.”

He stops what he’s doing and it’s a little bit excruciating that he stops. I want to cry, but at the same time, I did tell him to.

He picks me up.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

He carries me across the room. A strange sound comes out of me, something between a scream and a laugh.

He tosses me on the bed like I’m a rag doll—five stars for that being totally sexier than it sounds—and then crawls over me, pausing midway. Strong hands grip my thighs and press them apart.

Suddenly, I’m lost in the crazy pleasure of his tongue.

I’m dying, reeling, shoving my hands into his hair like an octo-banshee.

He holds my thighs with an iron grip that feels a little dirty, like he won’t let me go now. He would if I asked, I’m sure, but the sensation is that I’m this caught animal, punished with pleasure by the beastly tongue of Malcolm Blackberg—that’s the madness that is taking over my mind.

If he keeps going, I won’t have my senses anymore.

I should stop him—it’s too good, and if he keeps going, it’ll be too late to stop him.

“Maybe we should transition…” To regular sex, I mean.

He growls and holds me more tightly, and it just makes everything dirtier and better.

And suddenly something flips because the way he’s licking me now, I can’t let him stop. I would have to kill him if he stops. It’s too good. And I’m just on the verge of coming.

I’m gasping, right on the knife edge.

Then he slides a finger inside me. I’m reeling.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp. He is so incredibly wicked, the way he holds me with one massive hand and invades me mercilessly with his finger while stroking me with his muscular tongue that feels like it has some kind of space-aged guidance system that tells it just where and how hard to go, a system that is so advanced it must never fall into enemy hands because it could be used to take over the universe.

But right now, his advanced-guidance tongue is taunting and plying my pussy with pleasure, pushing the good feeling higher and higher, like pushing the most delicious boulder of pleasure up the side of pleasure mountain, higher and higher, and any moment it’s going to come crashing down with total glee.

At this point I’m basically writhing under his diabolical ministrations. He squeezes my thigh, he licks me once more.

Then stops.

“What are you doing?” I protest. “You can’t stop!”

He presses a kiss to my belly. “Do I get a tick?”

“No fair!” I grab his hair and twist and try to make him return to business, but he won’t go.

“Oh my god!” I’m panting.

“Do I get my tick for today?”

“I can’t giveticksfor sexual favors,” I gasp. “That would be so…”

---