Page 103 of Billionaire Romance

My eyebrows rise. I’m not sure I can do that—control it. But he’s staring at me, waiting for an answer, and the tone of his voice brooks no room for disagreement. It’s a command. Nothing more, nothing less. I lick my lips a little nervously and bob my head. “Yes. Sir,” I add, because it seems like the thing to say at this point.

To judge by the hot, hungry flash of approval in his gaze, it was the right thing. “Good girl.” He winks at me, and at the same time, curls his finger and presses it between my lower lips, into my pussy.

I moan a little as he inches it deeper, deeper, until he’s knuckle-deep inside me. He curls his finger again and gently strokes it along my inner wall, making my breath hitch and my hips rise up off the blanket automatically, as I press my body closer to his.

His mouth lowers again, and his tongue tracks the line between my navel all the way down to the top of my mound. I shiver, breath hitching again. “God, I love watching you come undone.” He’s grinning up at me again, his eyes focused in that way he does, laser-sharp, like I’m the only person in the world for him right now. Like everything else has vanished and it’s just the two of us.

His lips slide lower again, and his tongue grazes my clit, and I raise my knees on either side of his head, gasping, my hands buried in his hair once again. He licks me until I’m crying out faintly, his finger moving at the same time inside me, and then, without warning, he draws his finger out of me and pauses again, smirking at me. “You’re so sensitive, Sinclair. It takes you almost no time to get right up to the edge, you know that?”

“Don’t… stop,” I protest, trying to arch my hips toward him. All I can think about is the pulse between my legs, the urgent need to finish.

But when he lowers his hand back to my pussy, he just circles my lips slowly, teasing. “Your climax will be stronger if we delay, though.” His fingers press just a little harder, circling the edges of my swollen clit, and I moan aloud this time, unable to help it. He grins, enjoying what he’s doing to me. How crazy he’s making me. “A little frustration is a good thing, Sinclair.”

I bite my lower lip and try to will myself to stillness, to order my body to stop reacting so sensitively to him.

He flashes me a wink and leans down to run his tongue along my slit again. I inhale sharply but manage not to moan this time. “We’re going to go slow,” he tells me, his breath hot against my skin. “And you’re not going to come until I tell you to. Understand?”

“Y-yes,” I manage in a wavery voice.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Yes what?”

I press my lips together for a second before I lock eyes with him, steeling myself. “Yes, sir.” The words send a flutter through my stomach, at the power. At how much I enjoy this—him taking control, telling me what to do with my body. I’ve never let anyone do something like this before, and there’s something so freeing about it.

When he bends to press his face between my legs again, I force myself to hold still. But it doesn’t take long before that tongue of his makes me forget about it. I let my head fall back against the blanket. Behind the edge of the umbrella, I can see blue sky, and hear the crash of waves. But the only thing I can concentrate on is the way his tongue feels as he presses it between my lips and deep into my pussy, curling inside me, in and out, until I’m bucking my hips up toward his face again.

With a little growl at me, he pins my hips flat against the blanket, and I have no chance but to surrender any illusion of control. I let his tongue drive into me again and again until I’m right up at the brink of another orgasm, and faint little gasps come from my mouth with each thrust.

This time, when he pulls away, I cry out faintly in frustration.

“Not yet,” he says, and my whole body trembles. I’ve never done this before. Never delayed gratification. After all, it’s only ever been me touching myself, getting myself off. It’s nothing like this. I’ve never had anyone take me right up to the edge only to stop before I come.

I bite my lower lip and try my best to settle again, my pulse still racing, as he slides a hand down between my thighs to stroke me with his fingers this time. In and out. He finds the same rhythm again, his gaze fixed on me the whole time, white hot.

“God, I love making you squirm.” He grins down at me, and even though I don’t want to give in, I can’t help it. Just the words send a shiver through me, and his smile widens as he lets out a low, deep laugh. “You are too easy to bait, Sinclair.”

My eyes flash as they meet his. “Well… you are… damn… frustrating,” I spit out, especially because at that moment, his index finger finds that sensitive spot inside my pussy again and runs across it, the pad of his finger nearly making me lose control.

I’m shaking, close to the brink of an orgasm all over again.

He pulls his fingertip out of me.

“Just please let me come,” I groan.

“Oh I will.” He grins at me again. And then he starts to undo the clasp of his pants.

My breath speeds up, watching him. Frustrated as I am, I’m still hungry as hell—hornier than I think I’ve ever been. I can’t stop myself. I reach out to trace my hands over his body as he pulls off his shirt first, exposing those perfect washboard abs, the pecs I could bounce quarters off of. I trace my hands down his body until I find the little V muscles that point to his groin. And then I trace my way down those too, as he pushes his jeans down, and his boxers after them.

When his cock springs free, my breath catches again. I’d forgotten how big he is. How commanding. It makes my pussy ache, just remembering how completely he filled me earlier.

I want this. I want him. Over and over and over again…

“Fuck me,” I whisper.

He watches me as my hands slide the final inches down and my fingertips wind around the base of his cock. “Not yet.”

“If this is another delayed gratification thing,” I groan, but he’s reaching for his jeans, and I watch as he unrolls a condom along his length. I appreciate that, too. The way he’s the one to do it, without stopping to ask me or beg me not to use one. I might not have that experience personally, but to judge by my friends’ stories, it’s pretty common, even with hookups and one-night stands. Guys say they don’t feel as good.

I worry my lower lip with my teeth. “You don’t…” I hesitate. Meet his gaze. “You don’t have to, if you want. I mean, I’m on the pill.” I take it for a hormone imbalance, but same effect.

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