Page 57 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
"I’ll stay."
His eyes gleam.
"On one condition," I force out the words.
"You don’t get to call the shots."
"You haven’t heard what I’m going to say."
"Hmph." He flattens his lips, "What is it?"
"Take off your shirt."
"That’s it?"
"And your pants…"
"No."
"What?"
"I don’t undress in front of strangers."
"I’m hardly a stranger, you ass," I scowl. "You’ve had your tongue inside of me."
He smacks his lips, "And you taste so fucking good, Flower."
I redden, then push my thighs together. Why the hell do I find that so hot? I stare at him and he seems to relent.
"Okay, this once." He unbuttons his shirt and the lapels gape in the front. I take in those cut abs, the hollow of his belly, the massive tent over his crotch.
"Happy?" He smirks.
"No," I grouse.
"Too bad." He jerks his chin, "Face forward."
I hesitate.
"Flower," he warns.
I huff, then turn to glance forward.
"So, you’re staying?"
His voice is right behind me. The heat of his body envelops me, and the hair on my nape prickles. I know what’s coming, and damn him. I don’t want him to do it, and yet, I have to find out how it would be to be taken by him.
"Why don’t you want to fuck me?" I demand.
"Newsflash," he growls. "I am gonna fuck your arse." Cold liquid pours down the valley between my butt cheeks.
I shiver. My belly knots. "Th…that’s not what I mean. Why don’t you want to…" I hesitate, "Want to—"
"Tear into your luscious pussy?"
"Jesus," I breathe, "you have a filthy mouth."
"One you love, admit it."
