Page 23 of The Billionaires' Prize

I spread her lips and then drive my middle finger home. She clamps a hand over her mouth, pressing her head back into a cushion.

I growl and shake my head, having none of that.

“Don’t you dare stifle those pretty little moans. I earned them. I want to hear them.”

When she slowly removes her hand, her expression is full of wonder, like she can’t quite believe her ears.

I tease her clit with my thumb, watching her expression change from enchanted to needy in the blink of an eye.

“What are you thinking?”

She cups her breasts and flicks her nipples with her thumbnails. “You have nice hands.”

I hum. “Is that right?”

She nods, biting her lower lip. “I noticed them the first day I met you. You snagged an apple from the fruit basket.”

I thrust another finger home, priming her. “It was your lips,” I tell her. “The first thing I noticed.”

“Not my ass?”

I shake my head. “Not your ass, though it was amazing. You walked into the room and started introducing yourself, and I was hooked. You were wearing something glossy and peach-colored, and I stood there mesmerized. And fucking furious once my brain caught up with my body.”

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” she whispers.

8

GABE/KATHERINE

GABE

Gabe

There’s a nine-hundred-ton elephant in the room. We should talk about that. The reasonable, responsible adult in me says yes. But the man who wants Katherine in a bubble, without the world interfering, says hell no. There’s no use dragging up old feelings. And right now, in this universe, I’m happy. Content. Satisfied. Selfishly, I don’t want anything to change.

But if she’s bringing it up, she probably wants to talk, right?

So I nod. “Later.”

She reaches for me, her expression softening. “Later.”

Katherine

I watch the indecision in Gabe’s eyes, his thoughts warring. He doesn’t want to talk about anything. I don’t blame him. I definitely don’t blame him for not wanting to think about his past or my family in the middle of sex.

He leans into my touch, then pulls his fingers from my pussy, trailing them up my middle. Why is that so hot?

“You’ve come in my lap,” he says. “And on my tongue.”

He rubs the tips of his fingers over my lips, and I breathe in the heady scent of my arousal clinging to his skin. I open my mouth and suck them inside, licking them clean.

Gabe groans, and my pussy clenches.

This man is gonna be the end of me. It’s like I can see every naughty thought in his head. He’s far more experienced than I am, and I’m eager to learn whatever he wants to teach me. In fact, my skin is on fire for it. Every wicked word, every fevered touch, I want more. I want all of it.

“I think it’s time you come on my cock.”

I hum my agreement around his fingers, nodding. The confidence of this man. Gracious.

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