Billion Dollar Bad Boy (Big City Billionaires #1)

He startled slow; fingers molding against my shoulders. Inching the sheet away, he exposed my spine. My muscles bunched, I wanted to rebel, but his voice stopped me. “Let me do this,” he whispered. “Let me take control.”


His palms glided downwards, lingering for a moment between my shoulder blades. I was lost in the bliss of his touch. Silver was a master at this, his hands working away my knots, replacing them with something that was slicker... electric.

The sheet was gone, cool air tickling across my hips and ass. I turned, wanting to say how he shouldn't, how I wasn't ready.

Like silk, he pressed down to the backs of my knees. I jumped, and his chuckle was hot chocolate in my veins. He cupped my calves, digging in until he was stroking the soles of my feet. It was gradual, but the flames of arousal began to lick at me.

“Is that good?” he asked.

Chewing my lip, I shoved my head into the forehead rest. My muffle of agreement must have pleased him, because he swung across me, dragging his fingertips along the muscles of my arms. With each stroke, my nerves turned from arching cats into purring kittens.

Then he slid his hand up the inside of my thigh, ruining everything.

“Hey!” I gasped, pushing up on my hands to stare at him.

His eyes twinkled. “Something wrong?”

“I don't want a happy ending with this massage.”

“Everyone wants a happy ending,” he said softly, bending away so I couldn't tell what the expression on his face meant. The low lights hid him from me, and worse, I sensed him pulling away.

Before I could investigate what was wrong, Silver peered back at me. The glimmering centers of his amber eyes were unforgettable. He was here—with me—and I convinced myself whatever I'd sensed was my imagination. “Don't lie,” he said. “It's obvious you want me to touch you.”

I bristled, not just because of his audacity, but because he was right. “You're the one who showed up out of nowhere to give me a massage. If anyone wants anything here, it's you.”

“Oh, you're definitely right,” he chuckled. His weight settled on the table, his palms on either side of my hips. The candles along the walls turned his skin into a glistening bronze canvas. “I want to touch you more than anything, I want to feel the soft folds around your clit and discover how wet I'm getting you, Pet.”

My breath hitched, become a solid ball in my throat. Silver lifted a hand in the air, flexing his fingers. On impulse, my * clenched. “Are you asking me to stop?”

“I'm just saying I'm not... ready for you to go that far.”

Smiling so his teeth didn't show, Silver motioned for me to turn back around. “I have a feeling you're more ready than you realize.” Rubbing my lower back, he blew air on the side of my throat. “Let me show you.”

Closing my eyes, I sucked in through my nose. That was my only response.

It was enough.

He bent over the edge of the table, his weight pressing the heels of his palms into my shoulders. Small circles, rhythmic motions, Silver touched me with precision. His fingers swept down my ribs, grazing the outsides of my breasts.

I was breathing faster, wiggling in place the longer I endured his touch. He acted like he knew my body already. How could he? What allowed him to be so perfect in drawing out the heat in my lower belly?

Experience, I thought to myself. Someone as sexy as him must have had many other partners. I'd seen the sex club he liked to attend. But I didn't want to think about that—I wanted to focus on Silver and how he made me feel.

Good.

No. Wonderful.

Panting, I shivered at the way his nails scraped over my spine. He reached the crest of my ass, then dodged around it, not touching me. My disappointment was crisp, I even groaned.

His strained hiss made my hair stand on end.

My desire was lightning in a bottle, and he'd popped the cork. He was proving he could turn me on, make me want his touch.

Lying on that massage table, my thighs shaking as arousal flooded my cells, I felt panic. I was vulnerable like this, at the mercy of someone who was making me crave erotic, terrible things.

I wanted him to stop teasing me. I wanted him to quit stopping short of the gap between my legs. His teeth brushed my temple. “The heat coming off of your * is burning the air around my hand,” he whispered.

Rocking my hips, I pushed into his palm; he squeezed my ass and I moaned. It was unconscious, and I couldn't take it back.

“That sound is driving me fucking insane,” he growled. “My cock is throbbing, Pet.”

I was hit with the compelling desire to see that. How incredible would he look, his shaft swollen, flexing to its full length. If he slid his pants down, right now, would I be able to resist touching him?

Tasting him?

“Enough,” he said. Firm fingers wrapped in my hair, pulling it from its neat little up-do. Silver contorted me around, straddling my waist as he yanked my mouth to his. He'd spun me so fast my back cracked, the noise cascading through the room.

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