Dirty Billionaire (Page 12)
He kneels at the base of the bed, grips my knees, and pulls me so my ass is almost hanging off the edge and my boot-clad ankles are resting on his shoulders. I’m completely and utterly exposed to him, and uncertainty fills me for a breath.
He lifts something, and in the dim light of the room, I see it’s the bottle of whiskey. Never dropping my gaze, he opens it and drops the cap.
Um . . . strange time for a drink?
He leans in close, and his breath teases my center. “I wasn’t done drinking earlier. So now I’m going to drink from this sweet little cunt and get drunk on you.”
Again his filthy words send shivers through me, and his meaning dawns in my lust-handicapped brain. He’s going to what?
I don’t have time to question, because within moments he tips the bottle. Chilly liquid hits me and trickles down . . . into his mouth. He catches the whiskey on his tongue, lapping up my wetness at the same time.
Oh my God. Oh my God.
Pleasure spikes through me as he sucks and nips and licks until I can’t help but lift my hips and buck against his mouth, wanting more and more of this sensation.
He stills, the liquid stops, and he lifts his mouth away.
“You’re not going to come until I give you permission. I’m going to enjoy my dessert first.”
My nipples pucker, and arousal raises goose bumps along every inch of my skin.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Please don’t stop. Please.”
I don’t know who this senseless creature is who’s begging a man to keep pouring whiskey on her lady bits, but I honestly don’t care. I expect him to resume his actions, but he does something else, something completely unexpected.
He lowers the rim of the bottle to drag along my clit. The cool glass sends spikes of pleasure ripping through me.
He’s not going to . . . he wouldn’t . . . My imagination flies into a frenzy when he continues to drag the mouth of the bottle lower. And lower. It presses against my opening, but goes no further. He pulls the bottle away and presses it to his lips and drinks.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he sucks down the liquor, and my throat dries to dust. It seems he can read my every thought, because he lowers the whiskey and leans forward, pressing my legs toward my body.
The bottle hovers over my mouth.
He tilts it toward my lips, and I comply with his instructions in time for the whiskey to hit my tongue. I swallow until he stops the flow, and just when I’ve relaxed a fraction, he lowers again into his crouched position and a thick, blunt finger slides inside me without warning.
The liquor burns a path down to my belly, and red-hot need flares up from where he fills me. His dark eyes are locked on mine as he continues to thrust in and out with his finger and lowers his mouth to my clit.
And he feasts.
I’m riding high on the wave toward orgasm when a second finger pushes inside me for a moment before sliding lower.
Whoa. I flinch against the foreign feeling as his fingertip circles the pucker of my ass. I open my mouth to protest, but the sensation falls away and is replaced by his teeth nipping at my clit.
A moan rips from my throat as an orgasm rips through my body.
When I blink my eyes open, he’s standing over me. He must have lowered my legs from his shoulders, even though I didn’t realize it. His belt is undone, his pants are unzipped, and his hand is wrapped around a giant cock. I haven’t seen that many in real life, but even I can recognize a monster when I see it.
“You want my cock?”
The bold question takes me off guard. “Um . . .”
“I asked you a question.”
He’s stroking himself from root to tip, waiting for my answer.
But that’s not enough for him.
“Tell me you want me to fuck that tight little cunt until you’re still feeling it tomorrow.”
“I—I want you to fuck me.”
The words feel so foreign on my tongue, even though it’s exactly what I wanted when I set foot in the bar. To find a man with enough confidence to give me exactly what I want. I just didn’t expect to find him.
“Not good enough. You were looking for a man tonight, that much was clear. So ask for what you really want.” He lowers his face to mine. “Because I’ll give you all that and more.”
I suck in a breath. He’s right. Tonight is about me taking something I want and banishing the guilt chasing me. I grab my courage and push up on my elbows, bend my knees, and let my legs fall open.
“I want to still be feeling you tomorrow.”
A devastating smile spreads across his face. “Good. Because you will.”
He kicks off his shoes and shoves his pants to the floor. I expect him to pounce on me, but he snatches up his pants and fishes his wallet out.
Shoot. I totally forgot to grab the condoms out of my drugstore bag in the bathroom. Apparently I’m not good at this whole one-night stand thing.
But since I probably won’t be doing it again anytime soon, I’m not going to worry about that. It’s just one more reason to get everything from this night I possibly can before letting it fade into a distant memory.
She’s sweetly submissive and everything I crave. Her inner battle between hesitation and need rages so strongly, I can see it in her eyes. It ratchets up my need to possess her . . . more than I remember ever wanting to possess something in a long, long time.
But that’s all the time for introspection we have, folks, because I’ve got a condom on my dick and the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted in front of me begging me to pound into it.