Page 23 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire
Was he—
No, it couldn’t be. We didn’t even know each other.
I raised my eyebrow as Byron’s mouth came crashing down against mine in a bruising kiss, consuming me hard. “Nobody is taking your pussy but me,” he grunted against my lips. His hand found its way back underneath my dress, thrusting his fingers inside my drenched pussy.
“Mine.”
Oh. My. God. Byronwasjealous! And if River’s chuckle was any indication, he knew it.
Except, I kind of liked it. His jealousy. His possessiveness.
Byron’s fingers still inside me, thrusting in and out, I rocked against him while watching him under my lashes.
“I thought you’ve done this before,” I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs. I could feel another orgasm creeping up my spine.
“I have.” I raised my eyebrow. “I just don’t want to shareyou.”
His admission sent a coil of satisfaction through me. Hot and heavy.
“What will River do whileyoueat my pussy?” I didn’t think I had it in me. Filthy words. Even filthier, sinful deeds. And I fucking liked it. I suspected it had everything to do with this man in front of me.
Byron Ashford could deliver. And without an ounce of doubt, I knew hewoulddeliver the ultimate pleasure.
He spun me around, away from River, and pushed my back against the wall. Then, he fell down to his knees.
“He can watch.” Byron’s voice was dark. Possessive. So fucking threatening that I feared if River even tried to kiss me now, there’d be hell to pay.
This ménage à trois had barely gotten started, and as fun as it was—while it lasted—I fully anticipated a night with Byron would supersede my wildest fantasies, without another man in the picture.
So. Goddamn. Delicious. And thrilling.
As riveting as it was to have two men, I’d prefer only Byron. I couldn’t pinpoint why. I felt this unspeakable connection to him. Maybe it was the hint of loneliness I’d detected in his eyes. Or maybe it was that possessive look in his blue electric gaze that had me intrigued. For some reason, I wanted to explore it and see where it took us. Just the two of us.
Albeit, they worked well in sync and pleasure from both their mouths and hands was hotter than I knew what to do with. Byron was more than enough for me, and I wanted all my attention on him. I’d never let Byron know that I preferred only him, though. He was cocky enough already.
So I looked at River. Maybe it would be better for him to watch. It hit me in a rush. The idea thrilled me, making me all hot and bothered. It would seem I was into way more than just vanilla sex.
“Do you want—” My voice was breathless, the idea of asking him doubled the pace of my heart, making me feel hot and edgy.
I never got to finish my question because Byron yanked down my panties, the sound of material shredding filling the space. His strong fingers wrapped around my ankle, hooking my thigh over his shoulder until his head was between my legs.
He growled against my folds, like he’d found his personal heaven. My head fell back against the wall and my eyes fluttered shut, River forgotten.
His tongue flicked against my wet center. He ate my pussy with abandon, my hips grinding against his head. He was relentless.
Licking me. Devouring me. Consuming me.
My eyelids peeled open to find River watching—leaning against the elevator door with his arms folded casually—as his inflamed gaze roamed my body. For a fraction of a second, our gazes connected, something in his eyes telling me I was already his friend’s. Yes, River wanted me, but there wasn’t that same obsessive madness in River’s gaze like there was in Byron’s.
My eyes lowered to the magnificent man on his knees. This would forever be ingrained in my memory as the hottest night of my life. With Byron Ashford—the man who was hotter than Satan himself.
The way he already knew how to make my body unravel. He nipped at my clit, and I brought my hands to his head, my fingers entangling through his hair. I held on to his hair as I fucked his face, moaning and panting.
“Byron,” I screamed. “O-oh—”
I pushed on his head, needing some space. My pussy was too sensitive from the last orgasm. It was too much. Not enough. He refused any space between us. He laved and licked, relentless and eager. So fucking eager.
My hips bucked against his mouth. Pleasure coiled. It twisted like the most exquisite agony, until a wave slammed into me.
