A Billionaire for Christmas

“I’ve felt you come around my finger—I think we’re beyond texting, don’t you?”

She was silent for a moment, and I watched my breath curl with the smoke of my Epernay, anxiously wondering if I’d gone too far. Said too much. My head was filled with her was the only reason I had for my behavior. I needed to be inside her. Needed to fully have her before I could get over the distraction she imposed.

Whatever the excuse, I was preparing to deliver an apology when she said, “Ohhhh. I liked that. Is that dirty talk?”

“It’s a rather lame attempt, I’m afraid. Fortunately, I was going for frankness.”

She giggled, and despite the godawful temperature, I felt my cock jump at the tinkle of a sound. “So we’ve discovered I like frankness for sure, and possibly I like dirty talk as well. Should we try more of that to see?”

Oh, how I wanted to. Right then and there. There were a slew of filthy things I wanted to whisper to her. I wanted to tell her all the ways I meant to touch her sweet little pussy, how I would pet it and lick it and fill it up with my cum. Wanted to tell her how good her skin tasted, how drunk the scent of her made me, how the slick clench of her cunt while I’d fingered her made me ache with the need to bury my cock inside her to the hilt and fuck her until she saw stars.

But after a glance behind me at the door with its thin panels of glass separating me and my friend, I thought the dirty talk should probably wait.

“I’m hoping this call will lead to the chance for just that. Our night was cut short. I owe you a raincheck.” No, that wasn’t how I wanted to present that. As if she were an obligation. That was a far cry from the truth. “I’m looking forward to the opportunity,” I amended.

She sighed wistfully. “I want to. So badly. But you have Aaron tonight through the weekend, and I leave Sunday.”

“True, true. But my plans with my son have changed a bit, and I had a thought—would you be able to change your train ticket back to Delaware to something later in the day? I’m more than willing to pay for the change fee.”

“Yes!” she squealed. “In fact—I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to be presumptuous—but I already looked into it, and there’s a train leaving at four-fifteen, and there’s no charge for changing with twenty-four hours’ notice. I can be at your apartment by ten-thirty in the morning.”

She was fantastic. Truly.

“Then everything’s settled. Sunday at my place.” I glanced once more behind me and found Donovan had his eyes closed, likely sleeping off the tryptophan and dreary dinner company. I braved another comment. “I’m warning you, little girl—our lessons won’t be over until my face is wet with your juices and your pussy is sore from my cock, so be prepared to learn.”

She let out a noise that sounded like a shiver. “Wow, yes. I definitely like dirty talk. And now I need to go spend some alone time with my hand before I have to leave for dinner. ‘Kay, thanks.”

I hung up and took another draw from my cigar before opening the door, thankful that the cold prevented me having to walk in with a tent in my trousers.

“Aaron’s doing good?” Donovan asked, not bothering to open his eyes at my return.

“Yes. Quite good. Excited for...for our plans this weekend.” I headed back to the warm burn of the bourbon and the comfort of the armchair.

“Great to hear. I guess I won’t worry about how sore your cock is going to make his pussy then.”

Donovan was listening, that bugger.

Talking to Audrey had put me in such a good mood, however, I didn’t have the heart to respond with anything other than a sly grin.Chapter TenAudreyI don’t know exactly why I didn’t tell Sabrina about Dylan beyond that kiss.

There were a few reasons not to, sure. After she’d rode off that night with Donovan Kincaid, they’d put their relationship on hold until they could talk, which was to happen immediately after I left town. Even with the pause, I knew she was still completely consumed with him. She didn’t need to hear details of my affair. She’d fuss too much over me and neglect her own emotions like she always did. And my affair was silly compared to hers.

Or I was afraid she’d think it was silly.

Or maybe I was afraid she’d realize it really wasn’t—afraid she’d realize that this thing with Dylan was really important to me in ways I couldn’t explain, even to myself. Maybe I did have some daddy issues, but it was nothing I planned to discuss with my sister.