Page 55 of Her Billionaire Bargain (Kensington Square)

One squeeze of his bitable ass cheeks and the blunt head of his cock popped over his waistband, making me swallow again. I’d need a gallon of water at this rate.

He nudged down his pants, kicking them off so that I could see every bit of him. Strong, muscular legs, feet clad in Spiderman socks, and a cock that made me smother a whimper. He tipped up my chin and bent to kiss me, driving me back against the bedding before I could take a taste as I’d planned.

“Later,” he murmured, shifting me on my side as he stretched out behind me. “Ladies first.”

“But you’ve already—” I broke off as he lifted my arm and ducked his head under to kiss my tattoo. Then he shifted his mouth to my nipple, sucking it between his teeth so that arousal arced through me. I couldn’t stop the shudder as he brushed his hand down my belly, his target clear.

His thumb found my clit and he began to strum me as slowly as if he had all night. But his contact with my breast was very different. There, his suction was hard and demanding, almost painful. Between my legs, he kept the pace relaxed and uneven, never letting me know what to expect next.

In no time, I was drenched and writhing. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him to fill me up with that beautiful, brutal cock and I didn’t want to pretend I didn’t. I didn’t want to try to convince myself I didn’t like sex or that I didn’t need it.

Because here and now, I did. I needed sex with him. Dexter Shaw, this mercurial, unexpected man who didn’t hesitate to go down on me and wore Spiderman socks under his tux.

And right now, in bed.

“Stop thinking. Just arch your back, just like that. Take my fingers inside you. Good girl.”

“I’m not a dog,” I mumbled, though doing as he said made the spiral inside me tighten that much faster.

He chuckled, shifting back from my breast to lightly blow a stream of air over my straining nipple. “No indeed. Just listen. Feel what I’m saying. Stop fighting me. Stop fighting yourself.”

I rocked into his movements, so close that my thighs were shaking and my wetness as he worked me was almost embarrassing. He was so hard and his suction on my breast would leave a mark, I knew it.

I wanted it.

Then he twisted his fingers just right, his pressure firm on the exact place I needed it, and I finally went flying. I reached up to grip his hair as my body detonated, frustrated tears flooding my eyes before I was coming too hard to do anything but moan.

And possibly scream.

“Good girl,” he murmured throughout, mixing the phrase with words of praise that verged on porn talk. But in his raspy, turned-on voice, they were like sex poetry.

“You’re so fucking sexy. I could die happy just watching you come. Making you come. Again,” he said, rolling me onto my belly before I could recover.

At once, he latched his mouth on my over sensitized pussy.

I wasn’t even sure I’d finished coming when he gripped my ass, his tongue spearing me as he let out an unholy groan. He lapped at me and fingered me until I was helpless to do anything but splinter apart as he held me down. Something about not being able to get away as he literally forced pleasure on me set off an endless round of shudders.

Half-delirious, I kicked out at him as I fumbled for one of the pillows piled at the head of the bed. He just laughed and kept going.

“Sadist,” I muttered, pulling a pillow down under my head.

I drifted.

I didn’t even try to fight it. I just slipped away into the comfortable haze my body wanted so badly to float on.

When I opened my eyes again, my mouth was dust-dry and using the facilities was an imperative. I lifted my head, already flushing as pictures from the night before tried to fill my brain.

Aided by the gorgeous, very naked man passed out in the bed beside me.

Dear God, I’d passed out on him like a drunk sex neophyte. How had he not thrown me off him and just left?

Right there, that proved he was an amazingly decent guy. At least compared to the ones I’d known.

I was covered up to my shoulders with the sheet and comforter while said naked man barely had a sheet up to his hips. Scarcely covering his very notable morning erection.

Cripes, was it actually morning? I couldn’t tell because he’d pulled the heavy blackout drapes across the window while I was sawing them off.

How lame. How embarrassing.

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