Page 74 of Pucking Billionaire

She pouts but leaves me be until we’re safely on the ground.

“Okay,” she says. “Tell me now, or else.”

I sigh. “Fine. Here goes. Remember when I told your friend Abigail that I could pass her resume on to someone at Octothorpe?”

Sophia’s warm brown eyes widen to almost comical levels. “She’s getting an interview?”

I nod. “Plus, I have it on good authority that her chances are solid.”

What Landon actually said was: “Unless HR finds pictures of her shooting heroin into her eyeballs, or she shits on the desk of one of the interviewers, she’s got the job in the bag,” but I don’t want to get Sophia’s hopes too high in case Abigail finds a less spectacular way to screw up this opportunity.

“When is the interview?” Sophia demands.

“She had her first round yesterday,” I say. “But she’s got many more rounds to go.”

Sophia’s eyes go from wide to narrow. “You sat on something this big this whole time?”

“It was only an exclusive secret on the day we boarded,” I say. “I wanted to use it to earn some goodwill so you’d stay for dinner. Abigail would’ve told you about it the next day if it weren’t for your digital detox.”

Now Sophia’s eyes are just slits. “That’s pretty manipulative.”

I cock my head. “Would you rather I hadn’t passed on her resume?”

“I’d rather you’d done it out of the goodness of your heart, not just to get something from me.”

I arch an eyebrow. The truth is, I would’ve done it regardless, but if I tell her that now, she won’t believe me anyway, or she’ll call it another attempt at manipulation. For whatever reason, she thinks the worst of me, and I hate that.

“Okay, fine,” she says curtly. “You win.”

My other eyebrow shoots up. “Win what?”

My cock twitches—as if it’s not clear what he’s hoping she’ll say.

“We can have dinner together when we get back on the ship,” she says magnanimously.

I didn’t ask for that, but I’m more than happy to accept. “Sure. I’d love to have dinner with you tonight.” And every dinner after that.

“Oh, and… thank you.” Sophia steps closer to me and moistens her lips. “Whatever your motives, getting Abigail that interview was huge.”

I can’t drag my gaze away from her lips. “You’re welcome.”

She closes the distance between us. “Can you help me get out of this getup?”

I do as she requested, peeling off the harness straps one by one.

Fuck.

Who knew stripping off safety gear could be such a turn-on? Given how hard I am, you’d think these straps were lacy underwear.

“Let me help you too,” she croons after I dumbly help her remove her helmet—like she couldn’t do such a basic thing herself.

Help me?

Wait a?—

Yep.

She drops to her knees, her mouth inches away from my throbbing cock. She frees my right leg, then my left—and it’s a marvel I’m able to remain standing because I don’t think there’s any blood left anywhere but in my dick.

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