Page 169 of Boss of the Year
I couldn’t.
The hand on my breast moved up to lock around my throat as his other fingers worked me ruthlessly, his mouth hot and praising at my neck.
“You’re going to come for me, right here,” he ordered. “You’re going to watch yourself fall apart in my arms while my fingers fuck that sweet virgin pussy.”
“Not—” I gasped when his thumb found my clit. “Not a virgin anymore.”
He chuckled, then sucked a spot hard behind my ear. “It wasmyvirgin pussy, Marie. It will always be mine.”
I was panting now, grinding into his hand, my hips chasing every stroke of his thumb, every thrust of his fingers. My hands flew to his hair, yanking hard enough to make him shout as the pressure inside me broke. I came with a cry, my legs trembling, his name caught between my teeth.
He held me through it, his arm like iron, his lips brushing my ear.
“Beautiful,” he said. “Look at the way you fall apart for me. Delectable.”
When the last of my shudders had passed, and I collapsed back against him, his hand finally stilled between my thighs.Lucas withdrew it, turned me just enough that he could bend down and sweep me against his chest, then carried me out of the bathroom and back to the bed.
“Don’t look at it,” he ordered as he set me among the pillows. “Just look at me.”
I didn’t know what he meant—the view, the room, the riches that surrounded us. Nevertheless, I obeyed, keeping my focus on him as he slid down my body, pressing kisses over my breasts, stomach, and legs until he removed my underwear, then lifted my thighs over his shoulders and buried his face between them.
“Oh!” I arched against him again when his nose found my clit, still throbbing and sensitive. “No, Lucas, I can’t?—”
“You can,” he assured me. “And you will. Just watch, baby. Watch me eat you like a goddamn buffet.”
“Lucas—” I whispered, but the rest of the sentence was lost when his tongue swiped through my center in one slow, devastating stroke.
My hips jerked. “Oh, God?—”
“No,” he murmured against me. “Just me now. No one else.”
He feasted on me the same way he kissed. The same way Lucas Lyons did everything: intentionally and thoroughly. But there was an element of pleasure in it that I had rarely seen any of the other times with him. Only, I realized, when he ate the food I prepared. Especially the desserts he took to his rooms at night.
Sweet Marie, he loved to call me.
Like I was made of the same kind of decadence.
My hands found his hair, fingers tangling in the soft dark strands. I tried to push him away when it became too much, but he growled low and pressed me down with a firm arm across my lower belly.
“No running now.”
Then he sucked my clit into his mouth, and I broke.
A second orgasm ripped through me, raw and sudden. My thighs clamped around his head, my body lifting off the bed, and he didn’t stop. Not until I was whimpering, shaking, and begging for breath.
“Lucas,” I called. “Please.”
“Fuck.” His voice rumbled into my thigh. “You know what it does to me when you beg.”
“Please.” My voice was shredded.
When he released that belted hold over my hips, I honestly thought I might float away from the pleasure, shattered into millions of tiny pieces that would blow away with the slightest breeze.
Lucas stood just long enough to pull a condom from his jeans pocket, then remove them and his underwear with quick, efficient movements until he was completely naked, unabashed, and more domineering than ever, right down to the heavy column of flesh he held in one hand as he surveyed the quivering mess he’d left of me on the bed.
“How do you want it?”
I stared at his erection, rapt as he rolled on a condom. I couldn’t help it. I wouldn’t have normally thought of a penis as something beautiful, but Lucas’s cock, heavy and eager, looked as though it had been carved from stone, like the many statues that graced the city.
