Page 34 of The Billionaire's One-Night Stand Nanny
“Ryan, please, wait, I want–” His tongue, his fingers, had me so close to the edge, I could barely formulate the sentence.
He left off with a kiss, the pressure of his fingers inside me gentling until the tingle at the base of my spine receded. His voice was low when he spoke, his lips moving against my thigh. “You want to come on my cock?” he asked.Mind reader.
“Fuck,yes, please,” I said, and I could feel his grin against me.
“It’s so cute when you curse.”
“Fuck you,” I said, with no heat behind it.
But he only stood, towering over me as I lay on the bed. My dress was rucked up around my hips, but he’d only unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and despite what he’d just been doing, he looked like he could walk into a boardroom at any second. It was confusingly sexy.
He unbuttoned the second button, his eyes never leaving mine.
“No, sweetheart,” he said. “I don’t think you have that the right way round.”
I wanted to tease him, to draw out the pleasure of anticipation, but as his fingers worked through the buttons of his Oxford shirt, the only thing I could think of was,yes, that, more. He shrugged his shirt from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor, and I stared at his chest. Maddie had taken me on a complete tour of her house once, and I’d seen the small home gym on the lower level that the two of us rarely visited. Was that what Ryan did at night, when I was relaxing in my bed with a book and a cup of tea? I was thankful for it if it made him look like that, even if knowing he was here sweating over a weight machine at the very time I was missing his body the most would make it impossible not to think of him when I was alone…
“Now your turn,” he said. My hands went to the hem of my dress, up around my hips already, wanting to tug it off, but he bent down over me, pinning my hands where they were. “Let me,” he said and grasped the fabric himself, just as he had done before. He dragged it up, his hands skimming against my waist, and up over my head, leaving me in darkness for a moment before it tugged free. My hair settled around my shoulders, and when I opened my eyes, his face was close to mine. “So beautiful,” he said, and I closed the distance between our lips. He tasted like me, and I groaned as he swiped his tongue into my mouth. With one confident motion, he lifted me up, depositing me onto the pillows of the bed and himself between my legs, shirtless but still half-clothed. His mouth moved from mine to my cheekbone, then trailed down my jaw, the fingers of one hand tangling in my hair, pulling my head back so he could kiss the hollow under my chin.
I’ve never been kissed there before.
“Good,” he growled. “I like being the first.”
Had I said that out loud?I gasped as his grip tightened, and he kissed me there again.
“And I want to kiss youeverywhere. Every,” a kiss to my throat, “single,” another, just below it, “inch of you,” he breathed, “is perfect.”
I let out a shuddery breath, my eyes fluttering closed as his mouth found the hollow at the base of my throat and kissed there, too.
“And every inch of you…” he said, one hand still in my hair, the other sliding down my back to the clasp of my bra, which he unhooked deftly. “Every inch of you is mine.”
My bra fell away and I was naked, Ryan above me, gazing down at me with heat in his eyes.
“Flora,” he rasped, and then he kissed me, hard and bruising, before moving his lips to the tops of my breasts, kissing my warm skin, using one hand to cup one breast as his mouth devoured the other. I arched my back, shoving my tightly budded nipple into his open mouth, moaning as strong fingers tweaked the other.
“I love that,” I gasped, and he moaned against my skin then released me with a soft pop.
“I remember,” he murmured into the valley of my cleavage before teasing my other peak with his hot tongue. “I remember everything.”
I gasped as his hand slid down my stomach, between my legs. I was so wet, so sensitive already, that I whimpered as his fingers slipped across my clit, trailing over my seam.
“Please,” I said. “I want to feel you.”
The weight of his body, the light pressure of his hand, disappeared for a moment, and I remembered he was still half-dressed–his khaki pants sporting an obvious bulge. He knelt above me, undoing his belt, then his zipper, and a smile snuck onto my face as I let my hand trail from my neck, skimming over one breast, down my ribcage. His eyes followed it hungrily as I slid it over my stomach and finally between my legs. I kept my touch even lighter than his had been–I was warm and swollen, and closer than I would have expected after only foreplay.
“You’ve thought of me, when you touched yourself,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” I confessed, as he pushed his pants around his hips, stroking himself through his boxer briefs. Drawing it out.
Teasing me.
Making me talk.
“Before bed,” I said. “In the shower, sometimes. And…” I said, smirking despite the throb in my clit, the need burning through me.
“And?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, a matching smirk on his handsome face. His hand moved over his bulge, up then down, the black fabric of his briefs obscuring the shape I knew lay under his hand.
“And when I was reading certain spicy scenes,” I finished, and he tipped his head down in acknowledgement and chuckled softly.
