Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(100)

The room went crazy, and Tyson swooped around the room, blowing kisses and collecting his clothes and bag. Syria waited until the room settled down again to sneak along the wall, and when no one was looking, followed him through the doors.

He was sitting on a chair to one side, pulling money out of his g-string. He looked up, and when he saw her, jumped up to pull her in a hug. “Syria! My God! What a crazy surprise.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said.

He pulled her close. “I’d kiss you but the beard itches like you wouldn’t believe.”

She reached for his hat and pulled it off. “Then let’s take care of that.” The beard attached with a loop around his ear and she carefully tugged it free. He let it dangle from his other ear, and pulled her in, his mouth covering hers in a hot collision of lips and tongue.

She pressed against his body, hot from watching him strip for other women, seeing them run their hands along his skin. She broke away. “I know they were a lot of older ladies, but that was still so totally hot.”

“It’s hot now.”

Syria glanced at the door, the jazz music muted from the other side. If she could get off to a bondage knot in front of a roomful of strangers, she could certainly risk this. She had, after all, almost become a signed and sealed professional Exhibitionist.

She reached down for his g-string. “I think you’ve still got some money in here.” She slipped her hand inside.

He grew erect against her so fast that bills flew out and fluttered to the floor. “You are one crazy girlfriend,” he said.

She pushed him back on the chair, his cock coming up at her like the north pole. “And I come prepared. She took his hands and slid them up her legs, revealing her naked skin. He slipped a finger between her legs, sliding up inside her. “I hope TSA didn’t have to search you.”

“I wasn’t concealing anything,” she said, and straddled his lap, pulling the skirt out of the way.

He moved his hand to her waist, eyes closing as her folds parted for him. When she sat nestled against him, all the way down his shaft, he held her so tight and so long that emotion welled up in her again.

“You’re here,” he said. “It’s not a dream.”

“I am,” she said, “and now you better pleasure me or you’re getting coal for Christmas.”

He opened his eyes, smiling up at her, and scooted down a little on the chair. “Prepare to get slammed.” His hand shifted to her hips, lifting her up, and bringing her down so hard and so fast that she gasped.

“Better?” he asked.

Syria couldn’t answer because he was doing it again, shifting her body to his bidding, grinding against her, then starting another long stroke. Laughter broke out on the other side of the door as somebody gave a speech, and Syria prickled with the danger, the risk, and the willingness in both of them to do whatever the other wanted, anywhere they wanted it.

She clutched his shoulders and dropped her feet on the floor, helping him move with her, adding to the impact of their bodies slamming together. The heat curled up through Syria, starting at the burn between them, the slide of his skin inside her, and the pain of overworking her muscles, all combining to shoot her into a new level of pleasure. She was just starting to spiral up when the door opened and a shocked woman looked at them with an open mouth. Tyson stopped a moment, holding Syria close, but the woman simply backed away and closed them in again.

“I think you might be fired,” Syria whispered. “And the cops might be on their way.”

“Then I better hurry this up,” Tyson said. He increased the speed and pressure, and now it was going, her body tightening, then letting loose, cascades of shivers crossing her body and gripping him where they were joined. Tyson slammed his cock into her one final time and now everything burgeoned with warmth and wetness, his cum flowing inside her as she relaxed down on him.

“I hate to fuck and run,” Tyson said. “But we better run.”

Syria burst into giggles as they snatched up his money and their bags. He thrust his arms into the jacket and did a patchy job of connecting the velcro of his pants. They were running through the empty room and out the other side when the doors opened a second time.

“Go!” Tyson yelled, pulling on her arm as they dashed out into the night. “My car’s over here!”

He unlocked the doors and they jumped inside. They pulled out of the slot just as two women came out the back door. Tyson careened across the lot, speeding their way to the side street.

“You are a mad mad woman!” Tyson shouted as they left the hall behind.

Syria laughed. “I am.” She reached over and gripped his arm. “I’m mad about you.”