Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 1(144)

“Do you want to play with me, Natasha?”

“Oh, yes, Sir! Please, I want that so much.”

Shame flirted with her, shriveling Natasha’s ardor the slightest bit. That pleading, babbling woman couldn’t possibly be her, could it?

He’s already reduced me to this and he hasn’t even really touched me yet. What will happen when he does? Will I survive it or will I just disappear into him completely?

Mr. Collins kissed her hip. Natasha spread her legs wide, greedy for more. She cried out from the sharp slaps he delivered quickly on each thigh.

“I decide your pleasure, pet. Not you.”

Rage rushed up beneath the surface of her docility. Natasha contained it, forcing the unclean emotion deep down; uncertain of its origins but sure it was due to his unnatural punishment.

“Good girl,” Mr. Collins whispered. “You suppressed that remarkably well.”

She blushed, unsure if he was truly pleased or mocking her obvious lack of restraint.

“After all, what fun is there to be had when prey turns belly up in the midst of the chase?”

“Pet.” Natasha’s sharp distinction drew an indulgent chuckle from Mr. Collins.

“Of course you’re my pet but don’t forget—you’re also my prey.” He smoothed his hand over her back. “I know I said I wanted to play with you, Natasha, but you’re making it so very easy for me to want to eat you instead.”

“What do you mean—oh!” She shuddered, helpless beneath the feel of his tongue laving her through the satin underwear. Natasha moaned happily when Mr. Collins pulled the thin fabric sliver to one side before giving her several long licks.

“Hmm, tasty.”

Natasha squirmed, loving how he grabbed her hips and pulled her to him. His tongue expertly probed Natasha’s delicate folds, quickly finding what pleased her and what intoxicated her. Mr. Collins then set about keeping Natasha on the drugged side of intoxication for many long thigh-clenching minutes.

“Do you want to come, Natasha?” He replaced his mouth with two talented fingers, slickly sliding over her before sinking deep inside.

She whimpered in response and wiggled her hips.

“Answer me, pet.”

Natasha babbled an affirmative.

Mr. Collins twisted his wrist. “I don’t think you’re ready. Not nearly enough begging for my satisfaction.” He ignored her cries of denial and walked to his chair. Sitting down, he languidly waved his hand in front of Natasha’s face. “Lick.”

No one had ever asked her to do something so vulgar and raw. Natasha loved it. Keeping her gaze locked onto his, she leaned forward and flicked her tongue across the damp digits before drawing each one into her mouth.

“You taste divine, Natasha. Do you agree?”

“Yes, Sir.” She traced each finger with the tip of her tongue, paying special attention to each manicured nail.

“Good girl.” Mr. Collins shifted forward and pulled her head up higher with a tightly clenched fist. Crushing her mouth with his, he slipped his damp hand inside her corset top. Mr. Collins cupped her breast gently before finding a hard nipple. Rolling and pinching it, he discovered Natasha’s sensitivity with unerring accuracy.

Between the brutal kiss and his clever fingers, Natasha lost all rational thought. She became a creature of his making, someone whose sole purpose was to exist at his pleasure. Her knees scurried forward until she fell into his lap. She fought against the tie binding her, wanting to touch Mr. Collins with the same intensity he was touching her.

Mr. Collins’s mouth ripped away. “Bad pet!” He pushed Natasha’s face against his shoulder and clamped one hand to the back of her neck. Mr. Collins then pulled and shoved her legs on either side of him, effectively trapping them beneath the armrests.

“I didn’t order you off the desk, did I?” His elegant, beautiful hand proved it could be a violent, unrestrained brute. It smacked her ass repeatedly, doing very little to warm up the skin.

“No, Sir!” Natasha cried out against his dress shirt. She was staining the pristine fabric it with her lipstick, and tried to reposition her head, only to freeze when he barked, “Stay still!”

“But your shirt, Mr. Collins. . .”

“I must not be punishing you hard enough if your focus is on an easily replaceable item of clothing.” He redoubled his efforts.

Natasha howled. Her backside was on fire. She begged and pleaded for him to stop, that she was sorry, and that she would be very, very good if he would just please, please stop.

Mr. Collins ignored her.

Natasha, lost beyond reason, bucked hard. She had to escape. The agony was going to kill her. She screeched in panic when she realized her legs were locked up tight. Natasha wasn’t going anywhere.