All That He Desires (The Billionaire's Seduction Part 2) (8 page)

“Not there,” he said, and placed my hand on his abs. “Here.”

I gave him a quizzical look and rubbed my palm over his skin.

“No. The way you were touching my hand before, when my fingers were in your mouth. Tickle me. Tease me.”

I gently traced my fingernails across his skin, brushing him ever so softly.

His muscles jerked beneath my touch, contracting beneath the skin.

I was so startled that I stopped for a second… and then I began to oh-so-lightly caress him again.

He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and let his head hang off the back of his chair. A strangled moan escaped his clenched jaws.

“You like that?” I asked, slightly amazed. The few guys from my past had never really been into soft touching – either getting
or
giving.

“Yes,” he choked out, nodding as though he were in pain.

A surge of power went through me.

I could make him react like
this?

Just by touching him softly?

Oh HELL yes.

I withdrew my hand.

He looked down at me in surprise. “I didn’t say to stop,” he said with a touch of annoyance.

“I’m not going to,” I answered as I crawled around directly in front of him, pressed apart his knees, and centered myself directly between his legs.

He was staring down at me half in shock, half like he was about to go crazy.

I got very, very close to his manhood – my bra was basically grazing his fly (which made his eyes get big as saucers) – and braced my forearms on his thighs.

And then I began to trace my fingernails very, very softly against the muscles of his belly.

A strangled sound came out of his throat. He didn’t know what to do or where to look – at my breasts almost cupping the bulge in his pants, my teeth strategically biting my bottom lip again, or my fingers caressing the skin over his chiseled abs and gorgeous hip bones.

I felt an incredible surge of power.

I was sexually enslaving this man with the lightest of touches, the smallest of efforts. I could feel him respond to my every touch, his muscles quivering beneath my fingers.

I could hear him cry out softly every time I tried something new.

And I was exulting in my power.

I felt more in control, and sexier and more confident, than I ever had in my entire life.

I leaned over – his shaft pressing rock-hard against my chest – and slowly, softly licked the curve of his pelvis with the tip of my tongue.
(Yum!)
This time, he cried out a lot louder.

I gave him little soft flicks of my tongue, pulling downwards on his belt so I could lick lower along the firm edges of his muscles.

His hands grabbed mine.

“Part two,” he said hoarsely, his voice strained with unfulfilled desire.

“Yes?” I purred.

“Do that… tease me… here,” he said, and pointed at the bulge in his pants.

Oh GOD yes.

I reached for his zipper – but again, he stopped me.

“Outside my pants,” he ordered.

I grinned at him, then slowly lowered my head a few inches.

This guy REALLY has a thing for foreplay…

I started with my fingers, tracing the bulging outline through the cloth.

Good Lord he’s big,
I thought idly as I began to caress the shaft.

Then I moved down and kissed it.

He moaned.

Okay, I’m on the right track.

As my fingers softly moved back and forth, I parted my lips and ran them along his entire length, pressing them firmly against his manhood. Beneath the cloth, he was extremely hard. ‘Wood’ was never more accurate a description.

His hands gripped the seat of his chair as I tickled and teased and caressed him. As I did so, my feelings of power increased – but also my desire. It was verging on severely uncomfortable.

I had to get him inside me soon, or I felt like I was going to
die.

Suddenly, his hands grabbed mine and pulled them away.

I looked up into his face. What I saw both frightened and aroused me even more.

He looked half-insane with desire, a deep scowl knitting his brows.

“Get up,” he ordered me roughly.

I stood up, a little scared.

He got up from the chair, pressed my body tight against his, took my face between his hands, and kissed me.

WHAM.

That’s what it felt like as a wave of fierce passion rolled over me. My legs almost gave out from under me as his mouth pressed roughly against mine, his tongue parting my lips, penetrating me, caressing my own tongue, his urgent need burning through the touch of his hands, his fevered kiss, the solid weight of his erection pressing against my stomach.

Oh God I wanted him so badly.

His hands traveled down my body – not light and soft, but hard and frenzied. He grabbed my ass, pulling my pelvis tight against him.

I was burning up in his arms, about to faint.

I broke away from his kiss, my hands pressing against his bare chest.

He stared at me, confused and still scowling, though I knew it was desire and not really anger.

“Take me,” I begged him. “Take me now.”

Suddenly, that grin came back.

Like he knew he had me.

Like he knew he’d won.

Then the grin faded back to dead seriousness.

“No,” he whispered, and shook his head. “Not yet.”

17

He took me by the hand and pulled me roughly towards the nearest window. Or should I say, the nearest full-length wall of glass. Outside, the lights of LA glowed softly in the darkness.

“What – ?” I started to ask, but he answered by positioning me two feet away from and facing the glass. Then he stepped behind me.

I was about to ask again what the hell was going on when I felt his fingers between my shoulder blades.

The clasp came undone and my bra loosened. He nuzzled my neck, and I gasped with pleasure and closed my eyes. As his lips grazed the edge of my ear, he slid the straps off my shoulders, and my bra slipped to the floor.

His muscular arms reached around me, engulfing me. His warm skin pressed against me, slid softly across mine. I felt the firmness of his chest and stomach next to my back, and the hardness of his manhood pressing against my backside.

Then his hands reached up under my breasts, cupping them, supporting them, caressing them. I moaned as he played with their weight, then brushed his fingertips around the outer curves and up along the tops of my breasts. He circled slowly in towards the nipples, which he rubbed and pinched very, very lightly between his fingers, making them even more erect than before (and making me moan even louder). Then he grasped my breasts forcefully in his hands and pressed me hard against his body as he kissed my other ear.

I was almost weeping with desire and pent-up frustration.

He forcefully lifted my arms up and planted my palms against the glass, so that I was leaning forward slightly, my weight supported by my arms.

He squatted behind me and pulled my panties down to the floor. My face burned red because I knew they were soaked. I was wondering what he thought of that when I felt his hands rough against the insides of my thighs, forcing them apart. By the time he was finished, my legs were quite a bit further than hip-width apart, and my ass was sticking out in the air. I could just imagine him standing up and taking me from behind, that glorious member of his penetrating me and filling me up.

Oh God yes please PLEASE

But that’s not what happened.

I felt something warm, wet, and soft caress the inside of my thigh.

I gasped and looked over to the side.

He was still squatting between my legs… and he was licking me.

From behind.

Oh… my… GOD.

The sensations were incredible. And excruciating. His tongue was still teasing me – not even touching my… um, the main event. Just softly grazing the edges of my lips down there, and licking the place where my legs joined my torso.

I was whimpering, it felt so good.

And I desperately wanted him to lick me totally and completely, up and down, all over.

But embarrassment and self-consciousness reared up inside me. I don’t know about you, but when previous boyfriends had given me oral sex (the relatively
few
times they had done it, compared with how often I had done it for them), I was always on my back on a bed, and they were always lying between my legs. The missionary position of oral sex.

I had never,
ever
been in this position before.

All the insecure little voices in my head began whispering at once:

He’s got his head basically down near my ass!

Oh no, oh NO, what’s the view like down there?!

Oh God, how embarrassing!

Thank GOD I tidied up in the bathroom!

Do I smell okay? Is he going to be okay with how I taste?

The little voices got to be too much.

“I don’t – ” I started to say as I pressed my hands against the glass, getting ready to force myself up into a standing position.

“STOP,” he snarled.

I froze where I was.

In theory, a man crouching between your legs and giving you oral sex is probably not at his most dominant – but Connor sure was.

“
I
won,” he continued sternly. “Unless you absolutely hate this,
let me enjoy myself.”

Well… I couldn’t say that I
absolutely
hated it… so I just whispered, “Okay.”

And I was rewarded with having my mind blown.

18

His tongue glided over everything at that point. All of me. Across my lips, up towards my front, and then wetly caressed my clit.

I cried out and braced myself hard against the glass as my legs trembled.

His tongue moved backwards, separating my drenched lips and plunging inside me, tickling just inside my body.

By this point, all the little voices were basically washed away by a tidal wave of pleasure.

I kept moaning over and over as he moved backwards again, his tongue sliding out of me and going backwards – – a little
too
far.

WHOA.

Not all the way to the back door, but right in between.

The sensation was great, but all the little insecure voices surfaced from the ocean and started a chattering chorus again.

Oh no, he CAN’T do THAT!

This is bad, this is really bad!

You can’t do this, it’s not right!

Thankfully he slid forward again, plunged his tongue deep inside me, and the voices were silenced again as a single, short contraction of pleasure fluttered through my belly.

Then he was at my clit again, licking and caressing it.

I felt like I was about to cry – not a bad cry, a
good
cry – but my body was wound up like a spring, with my hormones and emotions at a peak.

I
needed
him inside me.

SOON.

And then, my wish was granted… though not quite in the way I had expected.

He drew his head back, and I felt his fingers brush against my thighs.

And then, gently, slowly, I felt them sliding inside me.

I cried out, a choked sob.

“Are you okay?” he asked from somewhere behind me, his voice concerned.

“Y-yes,” I whispered, my head down, my palms braced against the glass. “Yes.”

His fingers began to move inside me – not in-and-out, but curling. Like he was stroking one spot with his fingertips.

A steady, building pressure of intense pleasure began to fill me down there. With the girth of his fingers filling me up (though not nearly as much as another part of his body might), the sensations were incredible.

Suddenly, I realized what he was doing.

Oh my God, he must be touching my G-spot!

I’d read about it. Countless articles in
Cosmo.
Best-sellers on sex (well, read them furtively in bookstores, but didn’t actually buy them. That would entail having the cashier know what I was reading). Blog posts.

From what I remembered, the guy was supposed to use a ‘come-hither’ curl of his fingers to hit your spot. Connor was doing that, except he was on the opposite side, so I guess it was more of a ‘go-thither’ gesture. Or the way a person says ‘hit me’ in blackjack by rubbing his cards with two fingers.

Remember, I’m
not
sexually experienced. Sexually well-read, yes, but not experienced. Two of my four ex-boyfriends couldn’t even find my clitoris. Three of them didn’t go down on me much (one not at all), so why would they have taken the time to find what was, to them, a mythical place that didn’t afford
them
any pleasure?