My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

He rises to his feet and doesn’t waste a second. A true man on a mission.

His big hands are beneath my bare ass, lifting me up, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carries me toward the desk.

He is thick and hard and aroused beneath his suit pants, and I’m damn near panting by the time he sets me on the desk.

“Right now,” he says and stands between my spread thighs. “You have one responsibility.” With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he licks his lips and reaches out with one long index finger to feel how wet I am. “You just focus on relaxing, and I’ll do the rest.”

The rest? The rest of what?

But I don’t have to ask.

He sits down in his chair, flips his tie over his shoulder, grips my trembling legs with his strong hands, and moves his mouth to the apex of my thighs.

The instant I feel his tongue pressed against me, my back arches.

“Oh God,” I moan, and Milo looks up at me from beneath his lashes with a devilish smirk etched across his perfect mouth.

“God’s not here right now, sweetheart. This is all Milo.”

Well, fuck.

I bite my bottom lip when he flicks his tongue against my clit.

And I have to grip the edge of the desk when he starts eating and licking and sucking at me like I’m his most favorite treat.

“Ah…oh…ohmygod, that feels good,” I whisper through erratic breaths.

Because fucking hell, it does.

It feels so damn good, I start to lose sight of why I came to his office in the first place.

Pleasure rolls up my spine and my hips start to move of their own accord, trying to hurry his pace, and my body puts on its gym shoes and tries to race to a climax.

But he doesn’t speed up.

And he doesn’t slow down.

He just keeps going at the exact same pace, not too slow, not too fast, but goddamn, not quite enough to push me over the edge.

It’s heaven. It’s hell. It’s painful-glorious-mind-blowing-bliss.

“Please,” I start to beg, damn near desperate. “Please, Milo.”

He ignores me completely, and I reach down with my hands to grip the lush locks of his dark hair.

“Please do it. Oh God. Oh please…fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I don’t even know what I’m saying at his point. I just know I want to come.

“Such a pretty girl. Such a dirty mouth,” he whispers against me, and it only spurs my need for climax deeper. “How bad do you want to come against my tongue, Maybe?”

“Bad,” I whimper. “S-so bad.”

“But you taste so good,” he says through a moan. “I don’t want to stop.”

“F-fuck, Milo. N-now isn’t the time to be s-selfish.”

His responding chuckle vibrates against my pussy, and the constant, incessant ache turns to an outright throb that is so hard, so relentless, I swear to everything, my heart has migrated its way to my clit.

“Okay, greedy girl,” he whispers. “I guess we’ll do this your way.”

And then, I’m falling. Floating. Sailing. Losing my mind as waves of pleasure crash into my body like a freaking ecstasy hurricane.

I pant. I moan. I whimper. And every muscle in my body shakes.

My orgasm feels like it lasts forever, and the whole time, Milo keeps his tongue pressed to me as my hips ride it out against his mouth.

Holy fucking shit.

“Now,” he says and leans back in his chair. “I think someone is relaxed enough to go to their interview.”

Interview? Who has an interview?

It takes my brain a good fifteen seconds to compute the reality.

Oh, that interview. My interview. Holy post-orgasm amnesia.

“You did all of that so I would be relaxed for the interview?” I ask.

Milo smirks. “Well, that was part of the reason.”

“And what was the other part?”

“Because I needed to.”

Milo

One glance at the time and I see it’s already nearing four o’clock, but this meeting with the marketing team is still going strong.

They’re talking about the logistics of doing a full-fledged international campaign—all good things—but my mind might as well be on the other side of the world.

I can’t stop thinking about her.

It’s only been a few hours since Maybe left my office to go to her interview, and I can still taste her on my tongue. I can still hear the way she sounded when she came against my mouth. I can still picture her sitting on my desk, legs spread, pussy wet and bared for me.

Son of a bitch.

I don’t know what came over me.

One minute, she was pacing my office floor, and the next, I had my mouth on her, eating and sucking at her sweet-as-fuck pussy like a man starved.

And now, it’s all I can think about.

Hell, I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that, lately, she is all I can think about. Morning, noon, and fucking night.

Before I know it, while Laura goes through her PowerPoint and discusses marketing goals for this quarter, I’m pulling my cell out of my pants pocket and discreetly typing out a text.