All That He Demands (The Billionaire's Seduction Part 3) (7 page)

“Don’t stop,” I gasped, and he went back to sucking greedily at my breast. Then, with his teeth, he savagely pulled away the other triangle of cloth and began licking my other nipple, too.

All the while, his thumb was pressing so sweetly, so amazingly on my clit, sending me into insane contractions of pleasure and bliss –

And then I came.

I screamed and grabbed the collar of his shirt, holding on for dear life, as his thumb swirled around me, pressing harder yet still soft, massaging me up and down, around and around. Waves of liquid fire rolled through my belly and thighs, straight up to my breasts where he sucked and licked greedily, lusting for me,
wanting
me.

My body jerked and shuddered and I screamed again, then moaned, then whimpered as the bolts of lightning receded, and finally had to put my hand on his to stop his caresses… and then I collapsed on him, my head on his shoulder, and trembled.

He kissed my neck and stroked my hair, let his hands glide softly down my back, sending more shivers along my spine.

When I was fully recovered, I leaned back and rearranged my top so everything was covered. Then I looked him in the face and smiled shyly.

“See?” he grinned. “I told you I like doing nice things for you.”

“That was…
very
nice.” I bit my lip, trying my best to be seductive. “Now I want to do something nice for you.”

His gaze flitted back and forth from my eyes to my lips. “Um… okay…”

I let my own fingers drift down to his jeans, and I began to trace my fingernails lightly along the giant bulge there. I could hear the soft scratching sound of my nails on denim, and imagined that there would be just the slightest pressure along his member.

I guess I was right, because he groaned.

I winced apologetically. “The only thing is… I’m still a little sore from last night…”

He nodded, though I could tell his mind was elsewhere as I ran my fingers along the bulge in his jeans. “…that’s okay…”

I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “But I could do other things.”

Then I licked his earlobe lightly, just a tiny caress, and breathed out the tiniest of whispers.

A groan escaped his lips.

I moved off his lap, took my robe, and put it on the ground in front of his chair. Then I knelt so that I was right there in his crotch.

I could feel the heat radiating off him, just inches away from my face.

I started to get excited again, despite the shattering orgasm just a minute ago.

“You poor baby,” I cooed as I stroked the outline beneath the denim, “I know you’re all pent up in here…”

I pulled up his white linen shirt. The sight of his tan, sculpted abs made my excitement double.

I popped the top button on his jeans and started to pull down the zipper –

“Wait,” he said in a choked voice, and grabbed my wrist.

“What?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“Not here. Not out here,” he said, shaking his head.

I frowned and looked around for planes, helicopters, or birds. “Nobody can see us.”

“I don’t want to take the chance. All I need is photos showing up in the tabloids.”

I scowled. “You didn’t seem to mind so much when it was
me
just a minute ago.”

He grinned. “If you’ll remember, I never took off your panties. And as far as your top, I merely… rearranged things.”

I glared at him. He was right… sort of.

“You know, I wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to see you motorboating me in the tabloids, either,” I said. “But you didn’t let that stop you.”

He laughed. “True. But you’re not the head of a multi-billion dollar corporation.”

“So you’re saying it’s okay if
I
get embarrassed, just not you.”

“I’m saying I really want you to do whatever you were going to do to me… but let’s do it inside,” he said as he got up, took my hand, and pulled me inside the penthouse.

I was still a little annoyed as he led the way to the bedroom.

On the other hand, the idea that somebody could have taken photographs of us, with my head buried in his lap, kind of threw a cold bucket of water on me.

I had just been scared of somebody
seeing
us.

I hadn’t even considered that they might be taking
pictures.

“You don’t think anybody – ” I started.

“No. But it’s better to be safe than sorry. Hang on a second, will you?” he asked as he headed into the bathroom and closed the door.

Ew,
I thought, and tried not to picture what he was going to do.

But I didn’t hear any… um… incriminating sounds. Instead, all I heard was the sink running for about a minute. Then it shut off.

Then the door opened, though I couldn’t see him yet.

“Shy bladder?” I teased. “Do you need a little running water to help out?”

He stepped into the bedroom, and I caught my breath.

He was completely naked except for the towel he held in front of his crotch.

Connor was beautiful in jeans and linen shirts, suits and ties – in all of it, he was incredibly sexy.

The night before, nude, his muscles etched by the shadows, he was gorgeous.

But in the light of day, he was breathtaking.

His perfect, golden skin was mouthwatering. His muscles were like a hero’s out of Greek mythology. The light scattering of hair across his powerful chest and washboard stomach were so incredibly masculine, it made me want to run my fingers across his body. His thighs were so massive, his calves so beautifully sculpted, he looked like he could have given Usain Bolt a run for his money.

I stared at him, my knees getting weak. He smirked a little, knowing full well what effect he was having on me.

“I, uh… I didn’t have a shower this morning,” he explained. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”

Awww…

“So I figured I’d wash up a little downstairs…” he said, then added hesitantly, “…if that’s what you were planning.”

The idea that he was still thinking of me, first and foremost, made me grin like an idiot. Then I looked back at the towel he was holding in front of the main show.

“Thanks. I hope you didn’t… lose too much enthusiasm,” I said, not nearly as smoothly or seductively as I would have liked.

He let go of the towel.

It hung there, suspended midair. What was beneath it was not the least bit weighed down.

And, as I've mentioned before, it was a plush,
heavy
towel.

He grinned. “No, I think we’re fine on that account.”

My mouth watered.

I
so
wanted to take that towel off.

But I wanted to be as sexy as I could about it.

I tore my eyes away from the towel and what was underneath it, as hard as it was (ha ha! Pun!... sorry), and looked him in the eye as I walked slowly over in front of him.

Then I knelt in front of him, letting my fingernails trail down his naked thighs.

I could feel his legs stiffen and his breath quicken.

When I was on my knees on the carpet, my head at the level of his thighs, I slowly, slowly tugged at the cloth.

I felt his manhood flex a little beneath as the towel pulled away.

However, I didn’t want to remove it all at once.

I wanted to slowly reveal it.

I pulled the towel until I could see the enormous base, covered with dark, damp curls. The rest of him – quite a few inches – was still covered by the plush white terrycloth.

I looked up at him towering so far above me, leaned in until my face touched his rock-hard abdomen, and then I kissed the thick base of his manhood.

He started breathing harder, and –

Okay, sorry, but short intrusion here.

I’ve never been comfortable using certain words for body parts. I guess, like not using profanity, it was just drilled into me when I was little that ‘good girls’ don’t say certain words. I’d certainly been able to avoid it with past boyfriends, because, well, sex was nice and all, but I didn’t need to do much more besides point or touch and say ‘here’ or ‘that’ or ‘this.’

But, I’ve got to be honest… as I was staring at him, about to pull off that towel…

…I didn’t want to be a good girl anymore.

I wanted him
so bad.

And I
wanted
to be bad.

I’m blushing as I’m telling you this… but it turns me on, too.

Soooo… I know I’ve recounted a lot of stuff that is certainly far off the ‘straight and narrow path,’ but I’ve largely tried to be a ‘good girl’ up to this point.

But I can’t keep on that way…

…because, at that moment, kneeling before him, wanting him so badly, something inside me changed. And I can’t pretend anymore that it didn’t.

I kissed the thick base of his cock (AAAHHH! I can’t believe I said that!), and slowly ran my tongue up the side of the shaft until it touched the towel.

I could smell lavender from the soap he’d washed himself with. The taste on my tongue was light, not bitter or overpowering at all. He tasted the way I figured a violet might taste.

I let my fingers drift up the inside of his powerful thighs. I could feel him tremble as my fingertips touched his balls (AAAAAH! Alright, that was the last time, I promise), and I stroked the delicate skin, tickling him.

“Oh God,” he whispered hoarsely as I stroked him, played with him, teased him.

I noticed the base of his cock strained, and the towel lifted slightly.

“Poor baby,” I whispered up at him.

I pulled the towel a little bit more, uncovering another two or three inches of his shaft.

Then I put my mouth again at the base and slowly, slowly licked up and down the underside, going down to the balls and tickling them with my tongue as well. All I could taste was lavender and the cleanness of his skin.

From the sounds he was making, I thought he was about to have a heart attack.

Then I licked sensually along the underside of his penis until I reached the towel again… and I slowly pulled it off all the way.

His cock bobbed upward violently as the towel fell away. I had the funny image of someone jumping off a diving board, and it wobbling up and down, then the vibrations receding until it settled back into place.

The head was so big, so pink, the skin stretched tight… in fact, the entire shaft was stretched so tight, he looked like he might explode…

Poor baby,
I thought, and moved myself directly in front of him.

I’m not going to make it easy on you, though,
I thought devilishly.

I softly cupped my hand around the shaft and looked up into his eyes.

He was staring at me with the expression of a man whose life depended on whatever action I took next.

I looked down at the pink head, then back up at him shyly (all an act)… and bit my lip again, because I knew that drove him crazy.

It did.

His scowl deepened, and he looked like he might die if I didn’t do something.

So I opened my mouth wide, and slowly… slowly… moved it over the head, all the while staring up at him with doe-like eyes.

But I didn’t touch my lips or tongue to him.

I just let my breath caress his velvet skin…

…teasing him.

I remembered how he had made me suffer before he pleasured me.

Two can play at THAT game.

I slowly, gingerly, let my tongue play along the underside of his cock, on the tiny ridge of skin beneath the head – as light as though he were sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake him.

It woke him, though, alright.

He groaned. His lower lip was trembling, and he looked at me angrily – but begging me, too, like
please, Please, PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!

I withdrew my mouth completely, and he groaned in disbelief.

But letting him watch – making
sure
he was watching – I licked my lips, getting them incredibly wet.

Then – still staring at him – I held his manhood in place with my hands, and slowly moved my lips back around the head.

I let my tongue, so wet and warm now, slide along the underside of his shaft.

And I let my wet lips envelop him, let them slip across his skin, as I took him fully inside my mouth.

“Oh God, Lily,” he breathed out, and then threw his head back as he groaned.

I began to caress his length with one hand, so lightly I might have been handling the most fragile thing imaginable… and with the other hand I traced my fingertips through the thatch of his curls, down to his balls, tickling, teasing, stroking, caressing them with my palm.

And all the while I smelled the beautiful hint of lavender, and tasted it on him, as I slowly moved my wet lips over his hot, velvety skin… first out, then taking him inside me… then out, then taking him further in… soaking him with my mouth. I was sucking him so lightly that his flesh and mine felt joined more by wetness than by actual skin-to-skin contact.

I switched hands, letting the other one stroke his long, thick shaft, and traced his gorgeous abs with my other fingers, then let them brush through the curls of his hair, then down to his balls, which had tightened against his body.

There was one problem.

He was so tall, and so, um,
long…
and I was so short… and he was standing at full attention, so to speak… that it was a little awkward to get my head into position.

Don’t get me wrong, I was totally enjoying myself. Even more than that, I was
loving
torturing him and hearing the moans coming out of his mouth. So I was okay for the first couple of minutes. But then the angle was a little awkward, and I was afraid to pull down more on his shaft to get it closer to my mouth…

And then he read my mind.

“Let’s go to the bed,” he suggested urgently.

I nodded, slipped him out of my mouth, gave him a little kiss on the underside of his shaft, and then let him pull me to my feet by one hand.

He led me over to the bed. I tried to pull him down onto the sheets, but he resisted.