Page 56 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
"That’s a start."
"For what?"
"For what’s coming next."
"Which is?"
I thrust two fingers inside her pussy. She yells. The sound slices straight to my gut, and goddamn me, but I am so hard, and I can't wait any longer. I need to taste her, I need to have her falling apart on my fingers, on my tongue. "I want you helpless and broken and shattered for me to pick up the pieces. Only me. You understand?"
"No," she snaps.
"Yes." I release my hold on her neck, only to sink to my knees between her legs. I squeeze her butt cheeks, then thrust my tongue inside her pussy.
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Julia
OMG. OMG. He curls his tongue inside of me and I groan. He flicks his tongue across my pussy lips, and I push my forehead into the glass. There’s a whinnying sound from far below. I glance down to find the mare prancing about as the stallion stalks her. Jeez, talk about life imitating nature. Or is that life imitating art? Whatever it is, nature unfolds her drama down in the field, and up here, my very own racehorse of an alpha begins to thrust his tongue in and out of me, fucking me with his tongue. "Oh, God," I groan. He picks up speed.
He slides a finger into my puckered hole, then thrusts his wide palm between me and the window pane. He fastens his fingers across my core and I gasp, "Damian." I try to turn. He pinches my clit and I yell, "No, goddamn it, no."
He pulls his fingers from inside of me. Cool air envelops my heated flesh. What the—? I glance over my shoulder to find he’s stalked to the shower cubicle. He wrenches open the door, grabs one of the bottles from the receptacle inside.
"What are you doing?"
He pivots. "Eyes forward," he commands.
I take in the bottle of conditioner that he uncorks as he marches over to me.
"No." I swallow.
A smile pulls at his lips, and it’s not the good kind. I gulp, "D…Damian?"
"Yes, Flower?" His grin widens.
"You…you won’t."
"Is that a challenge?" He stares into my face.
"I hate you," I mumble.
He pauses, widens his stance. "Leave."
"What?"
"You heard me." He jerks his chin toward the door, "Go."
"You…you don’t mean it."
"Have I ever said anything that I don’t mean to you?"
"N…never."
"Right." He cracks his neck. "So, stay and let me take your arse, or turn and go. Your choice."
Is it though? Considering I have no clothes to wear.
I take in his flushed cheeks, the hard tendons of his sculpted neck, the V of his skin exposed by the lapels of his shirt, the smattering of dark hair that arrows down to the part of him that I haven’t yet seen.
