Page 11 of Ezra the Billionaire

Gingerly relaxing against a shelving unit, I sigh. “I wish they’d forget about me already. The show’s finale aired already. Another scandal should distract them soon.”

“What about you? Couldyouuse a distraction?” A huskiness enters his voice as his fingers caress my cheek.

My breath stutters in my lungs. I figured our kiss was a one-off, especially based on how he acted earlier, but maybe I was wrong.

God, let me be wrong.

“What kind of distraction?”

“The orgasmic kind.” His lips brush across mine then retreat. “Is that okay?”

“It depends. What changed between you calling meMiss Billingsleyout there and now? Aside from the mad dash to escape the paparazzi.”

“I was angry, but not at you. I fired Jean Marcelle this morning because of the horrible way he was treating you,” he admits. “When I think of you, I lose all semblance of control, and lately, you’re all I think about. That’s not good for business, Lauren.”

Another apology is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it in favor of a question. “What do you mean you fired Marcelle because of me?”

“He purposely set out to make you look bad, not that he had a prayer of succeeding. You’re too damn gorgeous.” Ezra’s roughened fingertips trace down my cheek to my throat, pausing at the rapid pulse of my heartbeat. “He insulted you, so he had to go. I was coming to find you to share the news and find out how far his abuse went when we got sidetracked.”

“Don’t worry, he never said much to me. Jennifer was his focus.” And I figured she’d be Ezra’s too, but it sounds like he wanted me front and center. Kennedy had pushed for me to do the shoot to garner interest from the public because of my current popularity, but he’d never seemed on board with the notion.

I thought he was appeasing his sister.

But he just fired a famous photographer because he treated me poorly.

Butterflies take flight in my belly as I sink my hands into his hair, tunneling through the styled strands.

“Okay.” I nod to answer his previous question then remember he can’t see me too well in the dark. “Distract me, Ezra.”

He claims my mouth with a harsh groan, bumping me backward and causing a couple of cleaning bottles to wobble next to my head. This close, his spicy cologne masks the strong odor of bleach and ammonia, and I almost laugh at our terrible timing.

Sex in a supply closet? Not the most romantic place at Hearthstone Lodge, but it’ll do in a pinch.Or when you’re on the run from paparazzi hounds.

Eager hands toy with the hem of my shirt before dipping beneath and skimming my belly to cup my breasts. “I can’t wait to taste these beauties,” he rasps. “So soft and heavy,overflowing my palms. I just know your nipples are going to taste like ripe little cherries.”

A whimper escapes my throat, and I release my hold on him, frantically whipping my top off and shimmying my bra down my arms to free my breasts. Immediately, the sensitive tips tighten, ready for the wet warmth of Ezra’s lips suckling the tender flesh.

“Why don’t you find out?” I dare, a previously unknown sexual goddess slinking to the forefront.

With a growl, Ezra drops lower to trail kisses across my cheek, neck, and collarbone before wrapping his lips around one nipple and sucking hard. I jump at the forceful contact, a hint of pain morphing into pleasure. The sharp edges of his teeth scrape along the areola to hold the engorged tip for the lashing of his tongue.

“Ezra…” My thighs rub together in search of relief as I arch my back. Desperate to shove deeper into the hot cavern of his mouth.

“Cherries, just like I thought. Does this pussy taste the same, you think?” My jeans are swiftly unbuttoned and jerked down my legs along with my panties until they tangle around my knees.

Two fingers slip between my soaking folds, glide past my clit, and plunge into my aching channel. A muted moan clogs my throat. It feels so good, but I know he’s only just beginning. And when his cock fills me… My eyes roll toward the ceiling, shuddering in anticipation.

“Please…”

My other nipple receives the same punishing treatment as the first one before Ezra sinks to his knees. His tongue paints a wet path from my chest to my navel, dipping into my belly button, following the crease of my thigh.

“Fuck, I can smell how aroused you are, baby. You’re dripping at the thought me tongue-fucking this tight little pussy.”

Damn, for an uptight businessman, Ezra sure does have a filthy mouth.

And I fucking love it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

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