Billion Dollar Beast - Olivia Hayle Page 0,47
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Nick’s hands skim down my sides and grips my thighs, lifting me up. “Bedroom?”
“Down the hall.”
The ease with which he carries me completely sweeps away my resolution to make him come undone—my great plan for turning the tables this time. To wrest control away from him.
Because why would I want to stop him from doing his thing when it’s this good?
He climbs onto the bed and lays me down, all without letting go of me. My head lands between two cushions and I reach up to toss them off the bed impatiently.
“Christ. How many decorative pillows do you need?”
“It’s not important.” I twist beneath him so I can wrap my legs around his waist, rolling my hips once, twice…
He’s still glaring above my head like my pillows are a personal affront. “It’s like a shrine to comfort. Ridiculous.”
I put my finger on his chin and tilt his head back down to mine. “I distinctly remember being promised three orgasms.”
“Are you telling me to keep my head in the game?” The faint injury in his voice is too much for me. I burst into laughter.
Nick rises up on his arms and looks down at me. A smile tugs at his lips. “Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Still grinning, I reach up to cup his face in my hands. “Sorry, sorry.”
“A woman laughing in bed.” He shakes his head in mock affront and bends to kiss my neck.
“The horror,” I mumble. His lips trace my collarbone and it’s increasingly hard to think.
“I need to step up my game.” His hand bunches up the hem of my dress. Kissing his way down my body, he starts raising it inch by inch, my exposed skin his for the taking. I look up at the ceiling when he settles in between my legs.
Soft kisses to my inner thighs, warm, large hands smoothing up my skin. He tugs my panties to the side and then he’s there, mouth on me, and I close my eyes at the feeling. Relax, I tell myself. Just relax.
He stops. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I reach down to run my fingers over his hair. “Nothing at all.”
“Every muscle in your body just locked up.”
I force out a breath. “I’m not… good at enjoying that particular act.”
Nick frowns. Framed by my bare thighs and still in his button-down shirt, the view is overwhelming. “Why not?”
God, this is mortifying. Other guys never noticed that I didn’t particularly enjoy it. Why did he have to be different?
“I just… I can’t get out of my head.” Grabbing one of the offensive pillows, I clasp it over my head. “I never have. I’m just thinking about how you must be… well, waiting for me to finish, and that you might not enjoy it.”
It’s so embarrassing said out loud. The wish to take it back, to continue playing a strong and empowered and badass woman, is so overwhelming it nearly chokes me.
This certainly wasn’t the easy sex he no doubt wanted.
The pillow is ripped away and then he’s there, dark eyes burning. Is that anger? “Has a man ever told you that? Made you feel like that?”
Well, this just keeps getting worse, doesn’t it? “Not in so many words,” I say, “but… kind of?”
My first boyfriend never went down on me, and most other men had only done it in a perfunctory fashion. Like an appetizer they reluctantly had to get through before the main course.
“Fools,” Nick says darkly.
“Yeah. Well, that’s why, I guess.”
Still watching me, Nick’s hand starts stroking, right where his mouth had just been. Long fingers part and then circle. “But you enjoy this?”
I nod. Speaking is difficult when he’s touching me—oh—right there.
Speculation dances in his gaze, and something else, something I recognize as the love of a challenge. He’s always been one for impossible odds.
“Nick…” I warn, but it’s no use. He settles back between my legs, but he doesn’t use his mouth. He touches me leisurely instead.
“Do you know how much touching you turns me on?” His voice, usually gravelly, is a dark purr now. I reach for the pillow again and clutch it to my face.
His voice reaches me still, even as his fingers continue their sweet, sweet torture. “I’d imagined it, before the Fashion Week party. What it would feel like to do this.”
And then his fingers dip lower and one sinks deliciously deep inside me. I push the pillow away, needing to see him, and the sight nearly breaks me.
His gaze is fixed between my legs and on the hand currently