Dirty Sweet Wild (Bad Billionaires 2)

“Take it off or I won’t make you come.”

I gripped her waist so she wouldn’t fall, and in one graceful movement she pulled the t-shirt off and tossed it away. “Better?”

“Hell, yes.” It was. I had never seen a woman with skin like Gwen’s, with breasts that moved like hers, that hot, heavy shape tipped with dark pink nipples. Now I had her perfectly naked and I was inside her, and I gripped her more tightly and moved a little faster, a little harder.

She squirmed against me, trying to buck into me. “Max,” she complained.

“Be quiet,” I told her, throbbing inside her. “I told you you’re going to come, and you will.”

“I just—I—”

“Ssh,” I said. “Like this.” I reached a hand between us. I had done this the first time, by instinct, and now I did it again. I slid my thumb over her clit, and then I simply held it there, unmoving, letting the friction do the work. The sounds she started making told me I was doing it right. “Damn it,” I said as she got closer, as I felt my body start to let go. “Come on my cock. Just like that.”

I felt it when the orgasm rippled through her, just like I’d felt it last night. She was quieter this time, her cry strangled in her throat, like it had taken her by surprise. I was at the end of my rope; I came too, a rush of relief through my whole body, my balls tight. We stilled for a second, my mouth still against the skin of her neck.

Then I felt her tighten up. Her back, her shoulders, her legs around my hips. She lost that relaxed, just-come feeling and her hands slid down my shoulders, her palms pushing at me. “I should clean up,” she said.

I let her go and she slid off the counter, picking up the t-shirt and walking away to the bathroom without a word.

I stood there, feeling stripped—not just of my clothes, but of everything. I had never in my life had sex like that. I had never come close. And I might not know everything about her, but if I had to guess, neither had she.

Something was wrong.

I reached to the floor and pulled my boxers back on, so at least I wouldn’t have my dick hanging out when I got stomped on. Because I had the sudden feeling that was about to happen.

She came out of the bedroom minutes later, fully dressed, her purse slung over her shoulder. “I have to go,” she said, her voice neutral, her eyes barely touching me before glancing away again.

“Yeah?” I said, keeping my own voice neutral. “Where do you have to go?”

She was pulling her sandals on. “I have to go to work, Max.”

Fuck. The idea made me quietly insane, but if there was one thing I was good at, it was hiding my feelings. I looked at the clock. “Yeah? You have to strip at ten o’clock in the morning?”

She finished with her sandal and stood, her cheeks red. “No, I have to go home and shower and clean up, and then eat something and have a nap, because it’s going to be a long night and I’ll be out late. I have three gigs tonight.”

I nearly choked. Three? We’d just fucked a minute ago, I’d been inside her, feeling her come, and she had to take her clothes off for three different parties? “You’re in demand, huh?” I said.

Something in my voice made her go on the defensive. “I have to make money,” she said, the words snapping with anger that I didn’t think was directed at me. “This is my job. I’m good at it—the best. And I like it.”

“No, you don’t.” The words were out of my mouth before I considered them, and they only made her angrier.

“You don’t get a say in what I like or I don’t like,” she said, her voice tight. “You don’t get a say in what I do, either.”

I should be pissed. Hurt, maybe. But to me, the words sounded like a line she’d used one too many times, so I shrugged. “I get it,” I said. “You’re playing games.”

Her cheeks went redder. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Just that it won’t work with me.”

“You’re full of shit, you know that?” She picked up her purse again. “I’m leaving.”

You want to know if it bothered me? It did. It really fucking did. I might not see her again, and I was starting to understand exactly what that meant, exactly what I would be missing. “You think this was a one-time thing?” I asked her as she headed for the door, my voice gruff.

She paused, glancing back at me, and for a split second I saw it in her face—uncertainty, and something else, something that looked like panic and sadness mixed together. Then she pushed the expression away and went blank again. “Did you think it was otherwise?” she said.

I couldn’t quite figure it out. It was going too fast, and her signals were too jumbled, and as usual my words weren’t working for me. “I guess not,” I said, some unnamed emotion bubbling up from deep inside me, fueling me. I had no patience for games. “But if you walk out, don’t call me. You’re the first woman I fucked since getting my leg blown off, and I’m not in the mood to be jerked around.”

She paled, and her lips parted in shock.