Page 35 of Pucking Billionaire

“Oh. Well. I guess I can be patient.”

With a smirk, he bends down and gives my pussy a featherlight kiss.

My whole body turns into a shiver.

Mason’s callused hands cover Plato and Socrates, and his strong fingers tweak their nipples with just the right amount of pressure—like he’s had years to learn what I like.

His next kiss lands on my clit, and it’s firmer and more wonderful than his last.

I lean back and close my eyes, overwhelmed by all the sensations.

He laps at my folds, making me moan in pleasure. Then he places another kiss there. And another. Then he licks and circles my clit with his tongue before kissing it once again.

My moaning grows frantic and desperate as the pressure starts to coil in my core.

He releases Plato and Socrates—and they miss his touch immediately. But then his palms slide under my butt cheeks, and he pulls me toward him, his tongue penetrating me as if to give a prelude of what Uber will do.

Just as the orgasm is almost upon me, he places his tongue on my clit, making it flat and pliant—and then he pulls my ass toward him once more, and I come with a scream.

“Good girl,” he murmurs roughly. “Now come all over my fingers.”

One of his hands releases my butt, and he slides one finger inside me, then another, all while his lips and tongue take their turns at my oversensitive clit.

The feeling is intense, and the orgasm only takes a few seconds to fully form and crash into me, hard. I come even louder this time, and by the time I catch my breath, he’s arranged me on all fours, ass and pussy exposed from behind for his viewing pleasure.

His voice is a low, deep growl. “So. Fucking. Hot.” He rips opens a condom and sheaths Uber. “Are you ready for me?”

“Hells yeah,” I gasp. “But… can you do something for me?”

“Anything.” As if to confirm the words, Uber twitches.

“Can you grab a fistful of my hair?” I undo my ponytail. “And then hold it so that I can see it?” I’ve always wanted a guy to do that as he fucks me, but I’ve never felt bold enough to ask.

His jaw ticks. “As I said, fucking hot.” Gripping my hips, he enters me, shallowly at first, then pushing deeper and deeper until I’m deliciously stretched—and then he reaches forward, grabs a handful of my hair, and holds it in a tight, veiny, white-knuckled fist within eyeshot.

Fuck! I shouldn’t have asked him for that. The surge of arousal is so extreme my vision speckles with white. There’s something animalistic about how much I want him to fuck me. Something desperate.

“Faster,” I pant, staring at the fist unblinkingly. “Harder. Please!”

With a grunt of pleasure, Mason speeds up his pace, pistoning into me with the same breakneck speed as when he skated toward the enemy goal.

My entire body feels like a pulsing wave of sensations. “Mason! Oh, fuck, Mason…”

He takes my words as an invitation to go faster and harder, his free hand squeezing my ass as his other continues to grip my hair in that glorious fist.

“Come for me,” he growls, slamming into me with powerful thrusts, pushing me over the edge.

With a gasping cry, I come, quivering around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, and I feel him harden before he grinds against me in his own release, giving me a final aftershock of pleasure that leaves me completely worn out.

“That’s it,” I gasp as he pulls out of me. I plop on the bed. “I’m going to pass out now.”

“Sure thing, Ladybug,” he murmurs, wrapping his hot body (in every sense) around me. “Sweet dreams.”

Ladybug? Whatever. After the pleasure he’s given me, I’d let him get away with calling me a scorpion. Maybe even a cockroach or a dung beetle.

Closing my eyes contentedly, I keep my word and pass out.

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