Taking Control (Babysitting a Billionaire #3)

As she accepted that fact, a smile tugged at her mouth.

Holy hell. She was going to have sex. With Declan. She was going to fuck his brains out and then this time, she would be the one to walk away.

She stalked toward him, her gaze fixed on the bulge in his pants. It was huge, and it was all hers. For as long as she wanted. Which wouldn’t be very long. Because, while she might be deluded, she wasn’t a total idiot.

…

Somewhere in the last thirty seconds, she had reached a decision. Before that, he’d been in no way sure of her.

Now she was coming for him.

Fear twisted inside him. The sensation tightened his balls, sent blood pooling to his groin. She’d always been so passionate. Crazy passionate. The intensity of her feelings had woken needs inside him he’d spent his life controlling. Even at seventeen, she’d often been the one to initiate their lovemaking, teasing him, testing him, trying to push him over the edge.

She came to a halt in front of him. God she was beautiful. One hand reached out, laid flat against his heart. Could she feel its frantic beat? Of course, she could. He held himself very still as she scraped her nails down his chest, then tucked one finger in his waistband.

“You sure you want to do this?” she murmured. “Aren’t you afraid Daddy will find out?”

No, he wasn’t. For some reason his father had orchestrated this meeting. He would find out why—but later. “I think Daddy gave you to me as a present.”

A frown flickered across her face; he was guessing the thought had occurred to her as well, but she banished it with a little shake of her head. She moved the hand that hovered over his groin and flicked a finger at the bandage on his shoulder. “And he had you gift wrapped for me. Nice.”

He’d had enough talk. He ached to be inside her. His dick was so hard, it pressed painfully against his fly, and holding her gaze he lowered his zipper, groaned at the relief.

Her tongue flashed out across her plump lower lip, leaving it glistening with moisture and his cock jerked in the confines of his boxers. He groaned again and her eyes flicked down, and then she closed the last distance between them.

Without touching him anywhere else, she went up on tiptoes and licked along his lower lip as she had done her own. Then she pressed her mouth against his and her body pushed up against him. Her arms locked on his shoulders, and she dragged him down and kissed him. The kiss was fierce—he could sense the barely leashed anger—and she shoved her tongue into his mouth as though she was fucking him. She’d always wanted to be the one in control, but he had always wrested it from her. Now he cupped her jaw in his hand, angled her chin, and took charge of the kiss. His tongue fought with hers, filling her mouth, taking possession.

She gave way beneath the pressure of his kiss, and he backed her up until she was against the wall, then kissed her some more, hot, wet kisses as though he could devour her, ravage her with his mouth and she gave as good as she got. Biting at his lips, fingernails digging into his shoulder.

He needed more, needed all of her. His free hand shifted between them, tearing at the buttons on her shirt so they scattered. At last, he pulled back from the kiss, his breathing ragged. He stared down at her; her skin was pale, almost luminescent, her breasts swelling above the plain white bra, her nipples pressing at the cotton. He lowered his head, nipped one with his teeth, and her back arched. She’d always liked her sex tinged with a little pain. Had said it made her feel alive. He bit down, harder this time, felt her hips jerk against him.

He tugged the shirt down her shoulders and dropped it to the floor, then slipped a hand behind her back and flicked open the catch on her bra, tossing it after the shirt. Her breasts were small but perfect, her nipples pink and swollen. He licked one until it glistened, then sucked the other into his mouth, and her spine arched again.

He rubbed his cock against her belly until his balls were close to exploding. He needed to be inside her and soon. First, there was something he wanted to see. He opened the button at her waist, lowered the zipper, and stroked the soft skin of her flat belly. As his fingers encountered the softness of her curls, he stopped.

“Turn around,” he murmured.

“What?” She sounded dazed, her eyelids fluttering.

“I want to see if you still belong to me.”