Dirty Billionaire (Page 11)
“Do you want to know what I do to naughty girls?”
“Anything I want.”
Her pupils dilate, and I know I’ve got her exactly where I want her. My lips lower to hers and devour her again. The taste of whiskey reminds me that I want to lick it off her body, and drink it from her sweet pussy.
Fuck. What is it about this woman that makes me lose every shred of self-control?
I don’t care enough to answer the question because she’s wrapped her hand around my neck, pulling me closer. Her quick little tongue tangles with mine, and the taste of her . . . Jesus. It steals away logic and common sense.
I yank myself back from the edge, and away from her lips, and slowly lower her to the ground.
“What—?” Her half protest is weak, and she presses a palm against my chest for balance.
“Now,” I say, and wait for her to react.
“What?” she asks again, this time with more fortitude.
“I told you where I wanted you. And I want it now.”
She blinks, as if trying to throw off the haze of desire.
I don’t think so. I drop my hands to her shoulders and turn her to face the bed.
“Strip. Leave the panties and the boots. I want your ass in the air.”
I release her, and she stumbles forward a step. I lock down the urge to steady her, because if I touch her again, I’m going to be tearing every thread she’s wearing off her.
To her credit, she steadies herself—and quickly. I wonder how rapidly she’s going to comply with my orders, but I don’t have to wonder long. She reaches for the hem of her shirt and hesitates, glancing back over her shoulder.
Keep going, I think, waiting to see how well she’ll comply with my orders—spoken and unspoken.
She bites her lip and looks forward again before slowly lifting the shirt up and over her head. It dangles from her fingertips for a moment before she drops it to the floor. She pauses, and I wonder if she’s going to back out. But she doesn’t. The sound of the zipper comes, and she shimmies her skirt off. A tiny red thong reveals most of her perfect peach of an ass.
Jesus fucking Christ, she’s perfect.
“The bra too,” I remind her when she drops her arms to her sides.
She shoots another glance back at me before reaching her arms around to unhook it and slide it off. It joins the pile of clothes on the floor. Her thumbs hook into the waistband of her thong.
She freezes when I utter the word.
“You need to learn to listen better, naughty girl. Leave them. I want you on the bed on your hands and knees, your ass in the air.”
Her gaze snaps to the bed, and she takes a shaky step toward it. I move forward in one lunge, tearing the spread off it and tossing it aside.
Her hands hit the sheets as she stumbles forward. She stills for only a moment before crawling onto the bed and complying with my command.
“I’m going to rip those flimsy little panties right off you and eat that juicy cunt for dessert.”
When her entire body shivers at my words, I wonder if anyone has ever spoken so crudely to her. I highly doubt it.
But still, she doesn’t move. Doesn’t make a break for it, so I’m all in.
His words. Oh my God, his words. I’ve read things like that, but I’ve never heard someone say them. So dirty, so filthy . . . and God help me, so hot. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, but I like it. I want him to tell me what to do, because if he can make me feel this way with nothing but words and a few kisses, I want more.
I watch out of the corner of my eye as he shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it on a chair at the edge of the room. His cufflinks clink as they hit the top of the dresser. His hands don’t slow as they unbutton the shirt and toss it on top of the suit jacket. He strides toward the bed, and heat flares within me.
I’m expecting a soft touch, a caress, but instead his hand cracks across my naked butt cheek. The sting shoots up my body, followed by a hot, sensual burn.
An undignified squeak escapes my lips as I lower my ass out of the strike zone. But I don’t move fast enough.
Another smack catches the same cheek, but lower, where it meets my thigh.
“Why—” I start, but his big hand covers the sting, silencing me. A possessive squeeze of his palm is followed by his thumb sliding up and under the waistband of my panties.
“I’m keeping these,” he says before snapping the delicate lace of my panties and letting them flutter down my left leg. Another tug and they’re gone. “And I’m punishing you for hesitating to follow my orders. And because I’ve been dying to see my handprint on your ass since you first blushed in the bar.”
Once again, his words send a rush of desire through me unlike anything I’ve ever felt before—until his palm slides between my legs and cups me before dragging a single thick finger through my wetness.
He groans. “You’re fucking drenched for me. Jesus.”
His fingertip swirls my opening, teasing me. My thighs flex, and when he dips just barely inside, my inner walls clench, greedy and wanting to be filled.
What is happening to me? I push myself against his hand, and for a moment, he fills me. His hand drops away, and a cool rush of air precedes a light slap to my pussy.
“My greedy girl is getting ahead of herself. I’ll give you what you need, but you’ll take it my way.”
When I exhale sharply, another firmer smack lands in the same spot. And then he grips my hips and flips me onto my back in a single movement.
My head is still spinning from the abrupt change in position, but my eyes track him as he leaves the edge of the bed, moves toward the entryway to the room, crouches low, and then returns.