Billion Dollar Beast - Olivia Hayle Page 0,48

pleasuring me. “Fuck, Blair, you’re so gorgeous.”

The compliment rings in my head, the word bouncing in my skull. Gorgeous. My legs relax at the same time as my breathing grows faster.

“I won’t go down on you again until you tell me I can,” he continues, the heat of his breath washing over my skin. “But believe me when I tell you I want to. Your taste, the feel of you against my tongue…”

One of his hands reaches up to find my breast. My nipple is hard underneath the fabric of my bra and he pushes it away. Combined with his words, with the fingers he’s using in me, on me…

“Yes,” he murmurs. “That’s it, Blair. You’re so pretty here, you won’t believe it, if only you knew…”

I don’t think he knows what he’s saying anymore, but it’s okay, because I’m almost beyond hearing. Pleasure rises and crests and I shatter against his hand, my orgasm racing through me.

And all the while Nick continues touching me and watching me and murmuring something in a low voice. I force my breathing to slow enough to hear the words.

“Self-conscious,” he’s muttering. “A woman like this. Ridiculous.”

As soon as my limbs work again, I reach for him. “Come here.”

He climbs up my body with a faint shake of his head. “We’re going to work on that,” he vows, kissing me with a passion that reminds me that he hasn’t gotten his release yet. And I kiss him back with everything I am.

We’re going to work on this? That means he’s predicting more of this, despite what he’d said in the car earlier.

I tug at his shirt. “Isn’t it my time to make you fall apart?”

His smile is wicked. “I have no problem with receiving oral sex,” he drawls. “I’d be happy to demonstrate.”

I roll my eyes even as the impressive length of him presses against my stomach. His suggestion is interesting… Last time, I hadn’t had a chance to even see it.

“Asking for pleasure.” I shake my head in pretend censure, even as I push his shirt off. “Such bad manners.”

“Not all of us were raised right.”

I flip him around and he lets me, pulling me into a straddling position. “Say the magic word.”

He tugs my bra off. “Now.”

“No, that’s not the one.”

He falls back on the bed with a long-suffering sigh. “This is not a proportional response, Blair.”

“It’s that hard to say, is it?”

“No, it’s just very, very hard.” He rolls his hips for added emphasis, and yes, it most definitely is.

I decide to take pity on him. For one, I want to be in control. It’s time to prove that this an equal playing field.

But more importantly… the smile on his face is one to keep.

“We’ll have to work on your manners,” I say, moving down to undo his zipper. He groans as my nails rake him through the fabric.

“Please,” he says.

16

Nick

“Please,” I say. The word burns on the way out, but it’s nothing compared to the now painful ache of my cock. Having tasted her, teased her, seen her…

I need her.

Blair smiles and pulls down the zipper to my pants. My view is even better from this angle—the curves of her collarbones, the glory of her round breasts, the flared hips. She’s wearing nothing but those pathetically small panties, and they’re still pushed to the side.

The perfection of her is near overwhelming. Seattle’s golden socialite, perfect hostess, style icon.

She has a smattering of tiny birthmarks on her right hip. I know that now. I wonder how many others do.

Looking up at me, she runs her finger along the outline of my cock through my boxers. It feels good, but the smile on her face at my answering groan feels even better.

It chases away any lingering thoughts that I’d been too rough in the closet the other day. No, every time I’m foolish enough to think of Blair Porter as someone fragile, someone to be careful around, she disavows me of that notion.

She always goes toe to toe and eye to eye.

Blair finally pulls my boxers down and closes her hand around me. The grip is teasing in its faintness, and I must have made some sort of sound, because she looks up at me.

“You’re big,” she comments. And damn it, but the matter-of-factness in her voice makes me feel ten feet tall. She’s stating it like a fact—not a compliment.

“Yeah.” The next words come through gritted teeth as she begins to stroke. “Did I hurt you the other day?”

“No,” she says,