Page 24 of How to Bang a Billionaire

“Will you trust me?” he whispered.

Hard to answer with my mouth full, and I would have thought my actions implied pretty heavily that I did, but I stilled, nodded, and made an undignified attempt at a yes.

We must have made a pretty ludicrous tableaux, but the way he was looking at me, his eyes all light and shadow and ferocity, I didn’t care.

“Flatten your tongue, stretch out your neck.”

An anxious noise leaked from around his cock. But I did what he told me. Of course I did. His soft commands were like fingers inside me: a tender assault on some hidden pleasure center. I could probably have come from them alone.

He was already wet, from him and me, and I was already pliant with yielding. I had expected him to be rough with me, forceful, now that I’d ceded my last threads of control. But he was annihilatingly gentle, his cock gliding into my throat with a kind of smooth inevitability that my body almost didn’t resist.

Almost. I still gagged. Still got teary-eyed and snotty. Still got that instinctive “I can’t breathe” flood of panic that made you somehow forget you had a functional nose. But he was pulling out before it hurt, before I got really scared, his hands soothing in my hair, as he gave me time to gasp and splutter. When he pushed back in, the panic was still there, but it felt different, hot and bright and almost sweet, far closer to adrenaline than fear.

My cock, which had briefly surrendered to anxiety, perked up like a fox hound hearing the view halloo. Flipping from “I’m not sure about this” to “ready to explode” in about two seconds flat. Especially when Caspian started talking, almost helplessly, telling me in this passion-wrecked voice how good I was, how beautiful and perfect, which weren’t the sort of things people usually said to me.

The weirdest thing was that, right then, breathless and wet-eyed, I…believed him. I felt cherished. By his touch. By his words. By the care he took as he claimed me. I would have welcomed harshness too; I would have welcomed anything that brought him pleasure, but it didn’t seem like he needed anything except my surrender.

Which I gave too. Waiting at his feet for him to use me however he chose.

And I loved it. Soared on it. Peaceful and free and proud and so fucking horny I would have begged for more if I’d been able to do anything except choke and moan.

“Oh God, Arden, Arden.” He sounded shocked almost, and wild. He gripped my hair, sharp pain layering over blunt, all of it feeding into the pleasure until I couldn’t tell them apart anymore. Couldn’t remember they had ever been different.

All it took was one hard thrust. His cock shoving into me like it was meant to be there. My name on his lips as he did it. The heat of his climax in my throat.

And I came all over myself, practically untouched but thoroughly taken.

Entirely his.

He pulled out quickly, his fingers snagging in my curls, hurting me for the first time carelessly.

I winced, shocked by how cold I suddenly felt, and how deeply shaken.

God.

I could have been the poster boy for the dangers of the homosexual lifestyle. I’d just let a stranger fuck my face. Come in my mouth. On a balcony. During what was probably an important speech about education and…stuff.

And I’d loved it.

Would go again.

Although the silence was getting to me now. And I would have really liked it if he’d…touched me. Yes, it wasn’t exactly a prime cuddling location, but he could have stroked my cheek again. Helped me up. Kissed me even.

Instead, he was just staring down at me. Face locked up tight. Eyes as empty as glass. “Arden, I…” He drew in a sharp breath. “Forgive me.”

And then he zipped up his trousers and left.

Left me kneeling on the ground in the moonlight.

Without even a glass slipper to show for it.

Chapter 7

Needless to say, my ball was over too. I didn’t exactly fancy slinking back to the party covered in come. And my throat was in a bad way. I probably sounded like Johnny Cash.

Besides, the best thing about the party—the only fucking reason I was at the party—had just made extensive use of my mouth and gone home.

As I hobbled back to my room, I catalogued my aches (mostly superficial) and sorted through my feelings (probably the same). It wasn’t the first time and—assuming I lived the life I fully intended to live—it hopefully wouldn’t be the last that I indulged in some no-strings, no-holds-barred entirely casual sex.

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