Kept by Him (The Billionaire's Club 4)

Perfect male buttocks, round and muscled, with those sexy dimples at the back of his hip flexors.…

Her body stirred again, and she closed her eyes to block it. This couldn’t be. God, she really needed to get a grip on herself.

The rustling of clothes stopped, and an odd heaviness settled in her chest. Strange. But the thought of him leaving wasn’t truly giving her the relief she’d sought. She parted her eyes open.

“Danny, my board meets tomorrow…” She found him finishing buttoning his shirt, and her windpipe swelled at the sight of his mouth, a little swollen, and his hair, a little undone. “Are … are you coming?” she said, getting back to her business.

He raked a hand through his tousled hair as though to fix it. “I already came.” He winked, then headed for the door with a chuckle. “Of course, Monica. I’ll see you before noon.”

She flung the pillow at him, laughing, then she laughed harder when he caught it easily and flung it back, where it slapped her right on the head.

“Oops. Sweet dreams, princess,” he said from the door, and she could hear his laughter in his voice.

She lowered the pillow. “You, too, sweet prince. You’re the epitome of Disney’s guys in tights, Your Highness.”

“I hate being called goddamned ‘prince’ and you know it, Ice Queen!” he shouted from the hall.

“It’s Ice Maiden, sir! Or at least it was until you thoroughly deflowered me. But all right then, good night, Mr. Lexington. Thanks for the great service!”

She laughed since she knew he hated to be called prince and now that she’d implied he was a male escort, he would probably like it even less. Ha ha. She snuggled into the pillow he’d almost knocked her unconscious with and closed her eyes, impulsively smelling it, her scent mingled with his. Now if only she could catch some shut-eye.…

* * *

Holy God, was he going to have a boner for the rest of his life, or what?

Daniel deeply regretted leaving Monica’s apartment at midnight. Now he lay, alone and sleepless, in his own bed, and by three a.m. even valerian started looking good to him.

He rolled facedown on a groan, his body tortured, the scent of Monica’s sex imprinted in his nostrils, the scent of her skin, her hair, the place behind her ears where she had rubbed her fragrance, spinning in his head in a heady mix that wouldn’t let him relax a single inch of his frame, much less sleep.

He hadn’t wanted to come home.

He’d wanted to tease her all night, hear her laugh like he hadn’t heard her laugh in so long, and then just the thought of their bantering made him hot all over again.

Even after their orgasms, he was about to explode. Monica’s naked body was embedded in his head like a brand, and the memory of her lying on her bed after coming was burning him at the stake. His heart raced as he remembered how good she’d felt when he’d fucked her, and though he tried to draw in a couple of calming breaths, it was no use.

He’d never been this hard. He couldn’t wait to put his hands all over her again. Kiss her.

Usually he enjoyed prolonging, when it came to pleasure. Making his partners wait in building anticipation; the barrage of hormones he made them feel obliterated anyone, anything before him … until there was only him.

But the torture now was on him.

Her breasts … his mouth ached to suckle them again.

Her pussy lips were the prettiest he’d ever seen.

Shaking, barely able to move, he rolled on the bed, remembering how she’d begged his name after he’d played with her with the ice. An ice for his Ice Maiden.…

Jesus, had she melted that little sucker to the ground.

He remembered crawling down her, how he’d immediately heard her breathing intensify as he parted her thighs to lick her orgasm. He’d heard her gasp in anticipation. Her pupils had dilated, her breasts were heaving, and he had all but stopped breathing for he had never, ever, been so fiercely turned on.

“Daniel…,” she’d whimpered.

His balls had contracted with a need so violent, he’d almost choked. “Shh…,” he thinks he had said, but he couldn’t remember, only knew they’d just come and needed to come again, and he’d shoved his shoulders between her thighs and went straight to eat her up. He’d flicked out his tongue, quickly tasting the outside of her slit—soaked, creamy—he dipped inside her with a languid stroke, and her sweet little cunt burned around his tongue, tight as hell and so damned slippery, his cock twitched to fill her up again.

He growled as her taste invaded him, mixing with his own, but it didn’t matter … it just didn’t … what mattered was that her hips had been tilting desperately toward his, and she was so worked up it took only three flicks; the third time he pushed his tongue into her channel she’d exploded.

She came so hard her thighs closed around his face and he pushed them open again by shoving his shoulders higher and speared her through her orgasm, doubling the pleasure, glorying in her cries of ecstasy.