Page 97 of The Billionaire's Secret
"Not your bride."
"That’s right." He twines a lock of my hair around his fingers, then brings it up to his nose to smell it. "But you will be."
"No."
"Yes."
"Make me."
Satisfaction is etched into every hard line of his face.
"I… I…didn’t…mean..."
He raises one eyebrow, "Oh, I think you did mean..." I start to shake my head, but he places a finger across my mouth, “Shh.” The warmth seeps into my skin, the scent of him crowds me, and his dominance pushes down on my shoulders, holds me in place.
I draw in a breath and my chest heaves.
He presses down on my lower lip. I open my mouth.
He eases his finger inside and I curl my tongue around the tip.
His blue eyes deepen into an aquamarine. Flecks of silver burst to life deep inside. An answering tremor coils in my belly. My toes curl. My scalp tingles. And all this when he isn’t doing anything more than touching me with his fingertip.
"I know what you need," his hard voice chafes my skin. My sex clenches, the emptiness inside of me roaring to life.
I want to speak to tell him, this isn’t fair. He can’t simply overpower me without trying too hard.
"I…"
He shakes his head.
I frown, open my mouth. He clicks his tongue. Goosebumps dot my skin.Shit, he didn’t do that, did he? Treat me like I am his property?Like all he has to do is say kneel and I’ll…do it. Hell, I’d keep my mouth open and willing until he’d stuffed his fat cock inside, while he’d shoved his fingers inside my pussy and commanded me to come… And damn him, I’d do it too. That’s how much power he has over me.
I clench my fingers at my sides, force myself to not move a muscle, not a breath, not a twitch of my eyelashes, nothing to show how completely, utterly defenseless I am in front of him.
He swipes his finger along the inside of my mouth, then pulls it out and sucks on it. I’m instantly wet. He lowers his palm between my legs and cups my pussy through my skirt.
A whine bleeds from my lips and I arch into his touch.
"You were saying?" he drawls.
"I… I…" He squeezes my tender core and a shot of lust spirals upward. I bang my head back against the elevator wall.
He grinds the heel of his palm into my pussy and my eyes roll back in my head. "Saint… Please."
"I know what you need, Gigi."
"You...you do?"
"Absolutely, sweet thing. You want to be treated like the traitor you are."
"What?" I jerk my gaze to him. "What…did you say?"
"You think I don’t know the identity of the man you were with earlier?"
The blood drains from my face. My heart seems to stop beating. I can’t feel my hands or legs. "You…" my voice cracks. I clear my throat, "You know?"
"Your identity?" His lips twist. "I’ve suspected it since I spotted you at Sinclair’s wedding. Imagine my not-so-surprised face when it turned out that little Miss, or should I say Mrs., Standoff here is a spy for my enemy."
