Page 63 of Scarlett and the Big Bad Billionaire
If you don’t believe me, you try going months without any action then sit and study a dazzling woman you’re crazy about for an hour while you process your feelings andrampantsexual thoughts about her, converting them into an image on paper.
She felt incredible in my arms, under my hungry fingertips, and she tasted amazing.
Having her pressed naked against me after all the years of imagining that very thing was almost too much to take. I wanted to touch her and taste her everywhere all at once.
What Ireallywanted was to pick her up and carry her upstairs to one of the forty or so bedrooms in this place, but that might scare her. I needed to wait until she asked me to take her to bed. Better yet till she begged me.
Oh shit, that image was so fucking hot—Scarlett begging me to take her, to fuck her again and again.
I ran my hands over her back and waist to her hips and down to her enticing round ass. She moved against me, squirming to get closer as she consumed my mouth.
“Touch me, Gray,” she whispered. “Touch me.”
As if I needed any encouragement.
The sound of her sweet voice inflamed me, though, and I reached for her breasts, cupping them, prodding the tips with my thumbs until they were hard and begging for my mouth.
Lowering my head, I took one sweet tip into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, sucking and flicking before moving to the other side.
Scarlett’s moans filled the warm, dimly lit alcove, vibrating through the small space and ramping me up to an even higher pitch. Her skin was so soft under my hands, even softer than I’d remembered.
And she was just as responsive. One of my favorite things about making love with her three years ago was how much she fuckinglovedbeing touched by me and how unafraid she was to let it show.
The sexy sounds she made, the way she moved, the scent of her skin—all of it was driving me mad and tempting me to tear off my own clothes and take her right here up against the marble wall.
Thatmight not be so comfortable for her, though. Instead, I whispered, “Come with me,” and led her to the small bench I’d been sitting on as I sketched.
Urging her to sit, I got on my knees in front of her and pushed hers apart.
The change in position must have given her a minute to think because she suddenly acted shy. She put her hands down, covering herself.
I gripped each of her wrists, prying them away from her center and pinning them to her sides.
“Gray,” she whispered. “We shouldn’t. What if the housekeeper is still awake? What if—”
I cut her off, smiling up at her. “Tell you what, you keep on thinking of all the what-ifs, and I’ll be down here doing what I do best.”
“Gray,” she protested.
But then my mouth made first contact, and she had nothing else to say.
Nothing except some very sexy moans. Lust ignited me as I buried my face between her thighs. I kissed and licked and sucked at her sweet center, gripping her hips as she undulated beneath my steady assault.
Scarlett was no longer bashful. She clenched her fingers in my hair, riding my tongue, pleading for more in soft, desperate pants.
Yes.I was going to make this woman come so hard she’d follow me around begging for it every day. And I would give it to her—gladly.
A godawful metallic screech made Scarlett jump and caused me to reluctantly lift my head. She pushed at me, squirming to get out of my grasp.
“The elevator,” she whisper-shouted. “Someone’s coming.”
I chuckled. “That old thing’s so slow I can make you come twice before it gets here.”
There was another clang, and she jerked again. “Move. Let me up,” she demanded.
I rocked backward, rising to my feet. Scarlett darted off the bench to the fountain, grabbed her robe from the ledge, and skittered away, out of the alcove and toward the staircase.
“Scarlett,” I called after her. I was tingling all over and could still taste her.
