Serving the Billionaire
Page 17
I didn’t know what I looked like, but I could imagine: eyes too bright, face pink, mouth open, panting. I probably looked like I’d just been fucked. I looked away from the curious gazes and went down onto my knees to fish the cap out from where it had rolled beneath the sofa.
“She isn’t ordinarily so clumsy,” I heard Mr. Sutton say, and humiliation brought a fresh wave of heat to my face. I didn’t know why he would say something like that.
The guests chuckled. I retrieved the cap and sat up, hair threatening to escape from the tight bun I’d twisted it into. Mr. Sutton was looking at me, face unreadable.
“I’m sorry I dropped the cap,” I said quietly.
He leaned close enough to brush his lips against my ear. “I love watching you lose control,” he murmured.
I couldn’t think. I screwed the cap back onto the bottle.
He sat back and slid his hand into his pocket. I held my breath. Was he going to turn it off, or make the vibrations even stronger?
I didn’t think I could take any more.
But instead of forcing me to come like that, kneeling there on the floor with his guests arranged around me, he turned the vibrator off.
Greatly relieved, I climbed to my feet and went back to the fireplace.
He tormented me like that all evening: switching the vibrator on and off at erratic intervals, and watching me as I clung to the mantle and tried not to moan out loud. I was a shaking, oversensitive mess, but he always managed to turn off the vibrator just before I came. He brought me to the edge again and again, and then yanked me back from the precipice right before I was about to go over.
By the end, I was ready to beg him to let me come.
The party ended earlier than they usually did. One of the guests, the silver-haired gentleman, glanced down at his watch around 10, patted the curvy ass of the dancer who was sitting in his lap, and announced that it was time for him to go home. That seemed to be everyone else’s cue to leave as well, because they all gathered their things and were gone within fifteen minutes.
That left me alone in the room with Mr. Sutton.
He hadn’t moved; he was still sitting on the sofa, one hand loosely curled around his whiskey glass. As soon as the final guest left and the door shut behind him, Mr. Sutton turned to me and said, “Come here.”
I walked over to him, unsteady on my feet. As I approached, he uncrossed his legs and spread his thighs apart, showing me his erection.
I had never met a man who was so blatant in and comfortable with his sexuality. I didn’t know how I was supposed to respond to him. Giggle? Look away? Sink to my knees and unzip his pants?
That last option was probably the most appealing, but I didn’t think I would ever be bold enough to actually do it.
I came near the sofa and stopped. He looked up at me and placed one hand on the cushion beside him. “Sit,” he said.
I sat. Or, really, I collapsed onto the sofa. I’d been standing for most of the night, and my legs wouldn’t hold me anymore.
To my surprise, Mr. Sutton lifted one arm and curled it around my shoulders. I turned my head and looked at him. He looked back, his eyes darker in the dim light than their usual piercing blue. His thumb moved back and forth along my shoulder, caressing, and I shivered and relaxed against him.
“How wet is your pussy right now?” he asked me.
I turned my head to face the wall, unwilling to let him see my face. I didn’t want to answer, but I knew he wouldn’t let me dodge the question. “It’s wet,” I said.
He chuckled. I heard fabric rustle, and then I felt the vibrator start buzzing again.
“Oh God,” I said involuntarily. The buzzing started out pretty weak, but Mr. Sutton quickly adjusted it so that the vibrations were steady and powerful. I was already so sensitive from being teased all evening that I squirmed on the sofa, trying to escape the sensation but unable to. The vibrator rode against my clit just right, exactly where I needed it, but too strong, too overwhelming.
“It’s too much,” I whimpered, and he eased it down slightly, enough to take the vibrations from uncomfortable to oh-god-right-there. I heard myself moan, and I let my head fall back against the back of the couch.
“That’s right,” he said. I knew I was biting my lip and tossing my head back and forth, but I couldn’t stop myself. The buzzing felt too incredible for me to care about anything except the tension growing in my lower belly and the melting, liquid pleasure between my legs.
I felt his free hand on my hip, and his thumb still moving on my shoulder, and the vibrator buzzing between my thighs, making them quiver. I was so close. I turned my face away from him, sure that I looked ridiculous, and he bent his head and moved his lips along my jaw.
“You’re going to come for me now,” he said, mouth moving against my skin.
I was powerless to refuse a direct order.
I came hard, back arching, toes curling inside my shoes. It seemed to go on and on, waves of pleasure rolling through me. I couldn’t do anything but lean against Mr. Sutton’s warm body and let it wash through me like the sea.
“Good girl,” Mr. Sutton said. I felt him stroking my hair.
I opened my eyes. Mr. Sutton was watching me, smiling slightly.
Mr. Sutton. I gave up: I couldn’t think of him that way anymore, not when he was looking at me like that, like I was something special. Like there was nowhere he would rather be. I couldn’t maintain the artificial distance of Mr. Sutton. He was just Carter.
God, I was so screwed.
“Regan,” he said. I shivered. I loved how he said my name. “It’s still early. Come home with me. I want to see you in my bed.”
Later, I would think of all the snappy responses I should have made. How much are you going to pay me? I should have asked, or I don’t go home with strange men.
But I wasn’t that quick on my feet. Instead I just looked at him and said, “Okay.”
Chapter 6
The cold air hit me like a frigid wall as I followed Carter out of the club. The neighborhood was always deserted at this time of night, and my hand automatically slid into my purse to curl around my can of mace. New York was pretty safe, but you never knew.
But I probably didn’t have to worry, with Carter there. I expected him to usher me into a sleek black town car, but instead he said, “My apartment is five blocks from here. Can you walk?”
“Of course,” I said, a little offended. Hadn’t he seen me walking around the club all evening? A few blocks in my heels wouldn’t kill me.
“She isn’t ordinarily so clumsy,” I heard Mr. Sutton say, and humiliation brought a fresh wave of heat to my face. I didn’t know why he would say something like that.
The guests chuckled. I retrieved the cap and sat up, hair threatening to escape from the tight bun I’d twisted it into. Mr. Sutton was looking at me, face unreadable.
“I’m sorry I dropped the cap,” I said quietly.
He leaned close enough to brush his lips against my ear. “I love watching you lose control,” he murmured.
I couldn’t think. I screwed the cap back onto the bottle.
He sat back and slid his hand into his pocket. I held my breath. Was he going to turn it off, or make the vibrations even stronger?
I didn’t think I could take any more.
But instead of forcing me to come like that, kneeling there on the floor with his guests arranged around me, he turned the vibrator off.
Greatly relieved, I climbed to my feet and went back to the fireplace.
He tormented me like that all evening: switching the vibrator on and off at erratic intervals, and watching me as I clung to the mantle and tried not to moan out loud. I was a shaking, oversensitive mess, but he always managed to turn off the vibrator just before I came. He brought me to the edge again and again, and then yanked me back from the precipice right before I was about to go over.
By the end, I was ready to beg him to let me come.
The party ended earlier than they usually did. One of the guests, the silver-haired gentleman, glanced down at his watch around 10, patted the curvy ass of the dancer who was sitting in his lap, and announced that it was time for him to go home. That seemed to be everyone else’s cue to leave as well, because they all gathered their things and were gone within fifteen minutes.
That left me alone in the room with Mr. Sutton.
He hadn’t moved; he was still sitting on the sofa, one hand loosely curled around his whiskey glass. As soon as the final guest left and the door shut behind him, Mr. Sutton turned to me and said, “Come here.”
I walked over to him, unsteady on my feet. As I approached, he uncrossed his legs and spread his thighs apart, showing me his erection.
I had never met a man who was so blatant in and comfortable with his sexuality. I didn’t know how I was supposed to respond to him. Giggle? Look away? Sink to my knees and unzip his pants?
That last option was probably the most appealing, but I didn’t think I would ever be bold enough to actually do it.
I came near the sofa and stopped. He looked up at me and placed one hand on the cushion beside him. “Sit,” he said.
I sat. Or, really, I collapsed onto the sofa. I’d been standing for most of the night, and my legs wouldn’t hold me anymore.
To my surprise, Mr. Sutton lifted one arm and curled it around my shoulders. I turned my head and looked at him. He looked back, his eyes darker in the dim light than their usual piercing blue. His thumb moved back and forth along my shoulder, caressing, and I shivered and relaxed against him.
“How wet is your pussy right now?” he asked me.
I turned my head to face the wall, unwilling to let him see my face. I didn’t want to answer, but I knew he wouldn’t let me dodge the question. “It’s wet,” I said.
He chuckled. I heard fabric rustle, and then I felt the vibrator start buzzing again.
“Oh God,” I said involuntarily. The buzzing started out pretty weak, but Mr. Sutton quickly adjusted it so that the vibrations were steady and powerful. I was already so sensitive from being teased all evening that I squirmed on the sofa, trying to escape the sensation but unable to. The vibrator rode against my clit just right, exactly where I needed it, but too strong, too overwhelming.
“It’s too much,” I whimpered, and he eased it down slightly, enough to take the vibrations from uncomfortable to oh-god-right-there. I heard myself moan, and I let my head fall back against the back of the couch.
“That’s right,” he said. I knew I was biting my lip and tossing my head back and forth, but I couldn’t stop myself. The buzzing felt too incredible for me to care about anything except the tension growing in my lower belly and the melting, liquid pleasure between my legs.
I felt his free hand on my hip, and his thumb still moving on my shoulder, and the vibrator buzzing between my thighs, making them quiver. I was so close. I turned my face away from him, sure that I looked ridiculous, and he bent his head and moved his lips along my jaw.
“You’re going to come for me now,” he said, mouth moving against my skin.
I was powerless to refuse a direct order.
I came hard, back arching, toes curling inside my shoes. It seemed to go on and on, waves of pleasure rolling through me. I couldn’t do anything but lean against Mr. Sutton’s warm body and let it wash through me like the sea.
“Good girl,” Mr. Sutton said. I felt him stroking my hair.
I opened my eyes. Mr. Sutton was watching me, smiling slightly.
Mr. Sutton. I gave up: I couldn’t think of him that way anymore, not when he was looking at me like that, like I was something special. Like there was nowhere he would rather be. I couldn’t maintain the artificial distance of Mr. Sutton. He was just Carter.
God, I was so screwed.
“Regan,” he said. I shivered. I loved how he said my name. “It’s still early. Come home with me. I want to see you in my bed.”
Later, I would think of all the snappy responses I should have made. How much are you going to pay me? I should have asked, or I don’t go home with strange men.
But I wasn’t that quick on my feet. Instead I just looked at him and said, “Okay.”
Chapter 6
The cold air hit me like a frigid wall as I followed Carter out of the club. The neighborhood was always deserted at this time of night, and my hand automatically slid into my purse to curl around my can of mace. New York was pretty safe, but you never knew.
But I probably didn’t have to worry, with Carter there. I expected him to usher me into a sleek black town car, but instead he said, “My apartment is five blocks from here. Can you walk?”
“Of course,” I said, a little offended. Hadn’t he seen me walking around the club all evening? A few blocks in my heels wouldn’t kill me.
