Page 13 of Tempting the Billionaire
“Yes,” she breathes, almost immediately.
I smile. Fuck, she’s obedient, and I fucking love it. I lean back far enough to meet her gaze. “I don’t want you to come until I make you come. Understand?”
Her eyes widen, and her mouth opens.
I raise my eyebrows. “Understand?” I repeat.
She nods.
“It means no going home and thinking about everything I’m going to do to you while you get yourself off. And it definitely means no letting any other man lay his hands on you.”
She nods again, her chest rising and falling. Damn, she’s turned on by this. She’s not just agreeing to my terms, she’s enjoying them. “Is that a yes?” I prompt.
“Yes,” she says.
I smile. “Good girl.”
Her eyes darken, and it takes every ounce of self-control within me to take step back. “Let me buy you a drink this weekend. Friday?”
“Okay,” she breathes.
“I’ll look forward to it,” I say, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek before opening my office door and gesturing her back out to the floor. “Don’t forget your promise,” I tell her.
She steps out on wobbly legs, glancing back at me over her shoulder.
“Oh, and the creamer is on the bottom shelf in the fridge.”
Chapter 8
Emma
I find myself at the end of the day sitting on my couch, staring ahead blankly, the shock of the last twenty-four hours refusing to subside.
When Ezra had called me into his office, I was sure I was about to be fired. After that humiliating display last night—basically throwing myself at him and having him walk out? Not to mention the fact that he’s technically my boss and this is a million different types of inappropriate.
But instead, he’d shocked me even further. By doing just about the hottest thing I could imagine.
And then forbidding me from…
I blush just thinking about it. Holy shit. Shit, shit, shit. I can’t stop thinking about him. About how fucking sexy he was in his office laying down the rules and telling me to obey. About how much I want him to follow through with that promise, about how I can hardly wait to see him again.
My mind wanders back to the way his lips had felt brushing against the sensitive skin of my neck, how deep his voice had sounded in my ear, the way I imagine his fingers would feel on my bare skin.
I can feel a moistness blooming between my legs, and I bite my lip, practically whining in frustration.
Ezra’s rule. His one, stupid rule. And despite the fact that I could lie, somehow I know that he’d see right through it.
I shake my head and force myself to stand, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.
I muddle through the rest of the week in a sort of daze. Every time the door to the shop rings, I look up, hoping to see Ezra, even though I know full well he typically only comes in on Mondays. I’m acting like such a ditz that even Rachel notices, asking if everything’s alright with me. I brush it off, telling her I haven’t slept well, hoping she’ll buy the lie.
But as the days wear on, I find it harder and harder to concentrate. Both from the fact that I’m finding myself increasingly attracted to Ezra, andbecause of his final rule. The rule that makes him all the more infuriatingly hot.
On Friday, he sends me a text from his private phone with an address.
Ezra: I’ll send a car for you at 8 p.m.
Oh yeah. He probably thinks my car is still “not working.” I’m utterly unable to focus the rest of the day. All I can think about is how badly I want him to fulfill his promise. God, I’m so turned on by the thought of him that maybe even just his touch could send me over the edge.
