Page 33 of Dating the Billionaire
His hand moved from the door. Was he going to open it? Did he expect her to leave—like this? So on edge she was about to come if she walked?
Then his zipper rasped, and his cock replaced his fingers, thrusting in and out of her. He wasn’t wearing a condom, so she should have protested. But she wanted him too badly. She was also on birth control, and Miranda advertised that all the members of Liaisons International were tested and safe. So she gave in to her need for him and braced herself against the door so that her knees wouldn’t buckle. It rattled in its frame, and he moved inside her.
Moans and cries of pleasure slipped out of her lips as her inner muscles gripped him and convulsed, an orgasm overtaking her. He pulled out, though, and his zipper rasped again.
She turned around and stared at him in surprise, over the pleasure he’d given her and the pleasure he’d denied himself. Was he really that selfless? That generous...
That amazing?
“You didn’t come.”
Sweat beaded on his brow and his upper lip, and a muscle twitched along his jaw. “We don’t have time,” he said—even though he’d taken the time to please her.
She reached for him. But he pulled back.
Through gritted teeth, he told her, “We need to go. Now.”
She shook her head in amazement that he was denying himself a release he obviously needed as badly as she’d needed the one he’d just given her. “You’re a masochist.”
He really was a masochist. He needed to come so badly that he barely made it down in the elevator to the car, his body ached so much with the need to explode. He didn’t know why he’d denied himself a release.
He’d wanted her so badly, and being inside her, he’d nearly come. But he hadn’t been wearing a condom, so he hadn’t dared. She’d felt so damn incredible. Without the latex between them, he’d felt her muscles convulse, the ripple and release of them and the heat and wetness of her orgasm.
He could smell her, feel her yet, and he was nearly going out of his mind with need for her. Forcing himself to focus on anything else, he climbed into the limo and reached for the bucket of ice. Tempted to dump it on his lap, he dropped some in a glass instead and poured grappa over it. His hand shook a little as he extended the glass to her.
She smiled as she accepted it and leaned back in the seat across from him to sip it. He grabbed another glass and poured more grappa into it and tossed back the entire contents. The fiery liquor burned down his throat.
He cleared it before saying, “We need to talk.”
“This sounds serious,” she murmured as the smile slipped away from her lips.
It was. He needed to distract himself from the desire pulsating in his body, from his desperate need for a release from the madness to which she drove him.
“We never talk,” he said. “Mostly because you don’t return my calls.” He was still not over that, but she was here now so he wanted to focus on the moment and on her. So he continued, “But we haven’t really ever talked.”
He’d realized it before, but whenever he was with her, he got distracted by the attraction, the crazy-hot chemistry, between them that he forgot. “I don’t really know anything about you.”
“Yes, you do,” she said.
He chuckled. “Really? What do I know?” Not even her last name. But before he could point that out, she was sliding down onto the floor between their seats.
“You know how to kiss me,” she said. On her knees, she arched up and brushed her lips across his. “You know how to touch me...” Her fingers trailed down the studs holding his tuxedo shirt together to the tab of his zipper.
His cock throbbed and pushed against the fly of his dress pants, begging for her touch. She lowered the zipper and released his straining erection into her soft hands. She wrapped her fingers around him and slid them up and down the length of him.
He groaned and pushed against her hand, thrusting into it like he’d thrusted inside her just moments before. Her hand wasn’t as good as being inside her, but he could remember how he’d felt, burying himself so deeply in her core—joining their bodies, bringing her pleasure.
Pleasure that he’d denied himself. Now he was close. So close.
So damn close...
Then she replaced her hand with her mouth. She sucked him deep into her throat. The feeling of her lips and her tongue...even the gentle scrape of her teeth...all drove him out of his mind.
Control slipped away from him.
He pumped into her mouth, an orgasm exploding out of him with such force that he felt as if he left his body. Or at the very least he lost his mind.
She licked his cock before tucking him back into his pants and pulling up his zipper. Then she moved back to her seat and leaned back, licking her lips.
