Page 37 of The Billionaire's Temporary Governess (French Conquests 2)

He was assailed by the memory of their insane lovemaking in that nightclub in London, and the fervent, heated sessions that had followed in that half-assed excuse for a hotel afterward. They’d gone after each other with fervor, like famished wolves after a downed sheep. Biting, scratching, crying out in heat. They’d almost set the world on fire.

Not this time,he said to himself.This time, I want this woman to know that she is beautiful and valued. I want her to feel me, experience me surrounding her and inside her.

Slowly he stripped her of her clothes, tossing her tee and panties over the side of the bed and then delighting in the sight of her nude body, stretched out before him. He hovered over her, and lowered his head for a kiss, feeling her lips curve into a smile even as she kissed him back.

“Something funny to you?” he asked, with a mixture of amusement and chagrin.

“I was just thinking about how unfair life is.”

One brow lifted. “It is?”

“Yeah. You got clothes on, but I’m naked. That sound fair to you?”

“Easily remedied.” He began to unbutton his shirt, only to have his hands slapped away.

She took over the procedure, commenting, “I wouldn’t let anyone open my Christmas presents, either.”

“Am I a present?”

Slyly, teasingly, she reached down between his legs to clasp the rigid mound that was straining at his pants. “Well,thisis.”

He huffed. “I’ll have you know that, as delightful as you might find that particular appendage, itisattached to the rest of me.”

She undid the button of his pants, forcing him with an insistent hand to lie on his back so she could get at him more easily. Once his fly was down and his thick shaft unfurled from its constraints, she asked, “So, you’re saying that you and this little guy—”

“Little?”he was deeply offended.

“You and thismonster—”

“That’s better—”

“Are a package deal?”

“Correct. Are you interested in the package?”

Her lips closed over the thick head of his penis, and he didn’t need a verbal answer. All he could do was close his eyes and take several slow, deep breaths, because what Naisha was doing to him with her tongue was criminal. She worked on him, one hand grasping the shaft and applying rhythmic, insistent pressure, while the other slid lower, cupping him, gently squeezing until he began to question his sanity.

All he wanted to do was give in, to release hotly into her mouth, but the last few shreds of sanity argued back. He wanted to giveherthe pleasure, to fill her up, make her moan with every stroke. He wanted to make her close her eyes when it all became too much.

So he slid out of her mouth, ignoring her outraged protests, and grasped her by the haunches as he made her switch positions. Now, she was on her back, her thighs splayed, the glorious space between her thighs glistening, lips swollen, juices already glossing her thighs.

He knew she was ready for him, knew she would be delighted if he plunged into her right now, but an imp of mischief suggested that he might make her wait awhile. Maybe she could be persuaded to beg.

“Never,” she hissed, uncannily understanding his intent.

“We’ll see about that.”

With a sharp, merciless thrust, two long fingers were inside her. He’d moved so swiftly she hadn’t seen it coming, and she yowled, immediately grasping his wrist. He half expected her to try to pull his hand away, but instead she began to teach him the rhythm she desired.

He was a fast learner. Moisture poured over his hand as it pumped in and out of her, and he could feel the powerful muscles inside her clamp onto his fingers. He curled them upwards in that classic “come hither” gesture, feeling the turgid, rough bump of her G-spot. Now that he had located it, she was at his mercy and he showed her none. His hand became almost a blur as he tormented her. She cursed him, but that made him even more determined not to stop until she was completely destroyed in a puddle of satiation.

His thrusts were rewarded by a noise that tore from her throat; he had to clamp his other hand down onto her mouth to stop her from waking up everyone in the house, as well as the horses out in the stables.

“Hush, angel,” he warned. “They’ll send the police.”

“Well, you’re torturing me!”

“You’ll recover,” he promised. When warm stickiness oozed over his wrist, he acknowledged that she had had enough, and removed his hand, bringing it to her lips for her to have a taste, and then tasting her himself.

---