My Sadistic Billionaire - Wicked First Love
Biting back a groan of pleasure, Angelo murmured, “Or maybe I’m lying.”
“Angelo!” Her fingers loosened.
He grimaced, wondering if she realized that she was unconsciously punishing him at the same time. “You know I’m only teasing you, tesoro.” As he spoke, he placed his hand over hers and he pressed down, forcing her fingers to tighten around his cock. He pushed harder, and her fingers squeezed him.
Pleasure rocked his body, and he swallowed back a groan.
Fascinated at the look on Angelo’s face, she tried squeezing his cock again and found Angelo’s piercing stare settled on her face.
Oops.
“Make the damn call so we can finish this.”
Oh.
They stared at each other, the sound of their uneven breathing filling the room.
She heard herself say, “You know, I’ve never told anyone about my mom and grandfather. Josh knows, but not all—-”
“I would rather you not speak another man’s name when you’re in bed with me, tesoro,” Angelo interrupted her coolly.
Oh. He was jealous. Again.
But because she had learned her lesson, she only said meekly, “I’m sorry.”
He smirked. “Liar.”
She couldn’t stop herself from smiling because it was true. She was glad he was jealous. The kind of man that Angelo Valencia was, she would definitely welcome every little bit of proof that she meant something to him.
“It’s the same for me,” he murmured. She frowned, not understanding what he meant until he continued, “I have never told anyone about my uncle.”
Her eyes widened. “But your ex—-” It hurt to say the words, but she felt she would be childish if she kept calling the girl as, well, the girl.
His lips twisted. “I only told her because my honor demanded it. But with you, I simply wanted to. I wanted there to be no secrets between us.”
“And there’s none.”
He thought about Ray, but out loud, all he said was, “I’m glad to hear that.” Just as he closed his eyes, he heard her murmur his name uncertainly.
He pretended to sleep.
“I know you’re just pretending.”
Still not opening his eyes, he said, “Then just say what you want to say.”
She took a deep breath. “I was wondering...what if the reason we’re being so honest with each other—-”
His eyes flew open. Surely she wouldn’t think—-
“Is because we lo—-”
She did.
Angelo abruptly cut her off, saying with an unusual lack of tact, “Not a chance.”
Lane winced. Not a chance? Why was he being so pessimistic? Didn’t she even have a .01 chance of making him fall for her?
“I know where this is going, Lane.”
Her eyes shone. “Then it means you lo—-”
“And I’m telling you right now, it’s not possible.”
Oh. But refusing to be disappointed, she insisted, “But what if—-”
“Lane.”
“I just think we should give it a chance and see if we lo—-”
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to show you my bank account.”
“What?” She didn’t know whether to be amused or insulted by his threat.
“And I’m warning you, it has a lot of zeroes in it.”
Amusement won, and a giggle escaped.
“So if I were you, I’d back off. If you force my hand, I’ll have no choice but to let you know just how many homes I own—-”
She started to laugh.
“Or would you rather I start with my yachts—-”
“I surrender,” she interrupted him laughingly. “You win.”
“Good girl. Now come here—-” He hauled her to him with a complete lack of grace, making her laugh again. His arms closed around her, and then she felt his lips brush the top of her head.
“I’m sorry for breaking my promise, tesoro.”
Oh.
“Ask me anything in return and I will give it to you as long as it’s within my power. Do you want your own island? A yacht? A twenty-carat—-”
“Shut up,” she mumbled even though she couldn’t help laughing at the outrageous things he was offering.
She felt him smile over her head. “Anything within my power,” he murmured. “Remember that.”
Anything, she thought, and it came to her then. She whispered slowly, “I do have something I want.”
“Tell me.”
“I want to attend one of your parties.”
Chapter Twelve
Dylan Charbonneau, lead vocalist for Minuit Rouge, strode down the expansive hallways with the confidence of one who was long familiar with the ins and outs of Angelo Valencia’s home. And so he was, although the paparazzi had yet to discover it.
Once in a while, he would be forced to stop, with the women of Angelo’s staff unable to stop themselves from asking to have their photos taken with him. The rockstar obliged every request, and the maids sighed dreamily when he walked away. How gorgeous and sexy he was!
If only he wasn’t engaged, they thought sadly.
Upon reaching the entrance to the patio, the rockstar stopped dead in his tracks, his hand stilling on the steel handle of the glass doors separating the main house from the garden.
Was he truly seeing this?
Angelo Valencia III, a man infamous for his rigid control and conservative manners, backing away with clumsy haste and being stalked by...a girl half his size?