Billionaire Boys Club 5 : Romancing the Billionaire(52)

"Jonathan," she sobbed, and when he looked up from her lap and saw her eyes, he saw need written there. Sharp, clawing need. He could relate. His own erection had returned, full force, and was pressing hard against the edge of the seat as he leaned over and lavished his tongue on her flesh.




 

 

"I'm so close," she begged. "Please, please push me over."

"I will," he promised, and returned his mouth to her flesh, teasing the little stiff nub of her cl*t with his tongue. Her h*ps bucked against his mouth and his steady, slow licking motions, and he couldn't resist sliding his fingers between the seam of her sex and searching for her core.

He paired two of his fingers together and teased at her entrance, circling it the way his tongue circled her clit.

She nearly came off of the chair in ecstasy. "Oh, God. Oh, yes!"

"Be still," he growled at her, though his own h*ps were thrusting unmercifully, uselessly, against the edge of the chair that he was pressed against.

She nodded, clutching at the chair she rested on. She was a gorgeous sight, all flushed cheeks and pale skin, her br**sts heaving with every gasped breath, her hair a messy nimbus about her face. Her legs were sprawled wide with his face between them, and he wanted to memorize the sight of her like this, so full of need and so utterly beautiful that it made his heart ache.

"Please," she said again, urgency in her tone.

He set upon her once more, back to the slow, steady licking of her surely aching little clit. He pressed his fingers into the well of her sex, having to stifle his own groan at the way her cunt clenched and pulled at him, as if she were trying to suck him in deeper.

Violet's moans of pleasure grew louder, and so he began to pump his fingers slowly in and out of her, curling them ever so slightly and dragging them against the front wall of her core as he pulled them out, looking for the spot that would guarantee a deliciously brutal orgasm. The rhythm of his tongue against her cl*t continued, his pace picking up just a bit and matching her quick, panting breaths as if they were the metronome he had to follow. Gasp, lick, gasp, lick. Her juices covered his mouth, her scent was in his nostrils and coating his fingers, and he was in heaven. He never wanted to leave this spot, ever. If he died at this moment, he'd die a happy man.

But his Violet needed to come.

He crooked his fingers inside her and rubbed hard, and was rewarded with her choked cry of surprise. Ah yes, that was a new trick he'd picked up in the intervening years. He'd never done that to her before, and he was guessing that her other lovers had never bothered to try and find it. For a moment, he was filled with a vicious jealousy that gave way to a possessive sort of pleasure at the way she arched and sobbed when he brushed his curled finger against it again.

She was his. This was her, and she was all his. No man had touched her like him, and he was going to f**king give her the best orgasm she'd ever had.

So, fingers rubbing against her inner wall, he bent over her cl*t with a new fervor, increasing the strokes of his tongue to a new rapidity. 

She made a wordless sound, noisy and completely unmindful of the fact that her cries were echoing in the cabin even as he sprawled between her legs, eating her out at thirty thousand feet in the air. Her h*ps moved, jerking, as if trying to follow his fingers, and he knew he couldn't let up now. To do so would mean she'd have to chase her orgasm all over again, and the way she was clenching around him, the lips of her pu**y swollen with need, she was close. So close. So he continued, mentally chanting his own poem.

Come for me, Violet. Come on my face, on my lips, and let me taste your sweetness.

A few more rubs and arches of her back, and he felt her entire body shiver, and then she gave a little cry of release. Her legs jerked on his shoulders, and he felt her pu**y clench hard at his fingers, felt her cl*t quiver under his tongue.

Perfection. He groaned his own pleasure at her response and kept licking and stroking, dragging out the orgasm to enhance her pleasure for as long as possible. She writhed against him, his name dragged out of her lips like a benediction. "Jonathan. Jonathan. Jonathan."

"This pleasure's all for you, Violet," he rasped against her soft, dewy skin. "I'd give this to you every day if you'd let me. There's nothing better than making you wet with need, and watching you squeeze around my hand."

She moaned, her h*ps riding his fingers as she lost herself in the orgasm, and he felt stark pride at how disheveled, pleased, and thoroughly f**ked she looked.

He'd done that to her.

He pulled away from that sweet cradle of her hips, bitterly reluctant but knowing he couldn't stay there all night. At least, not yet. Maybe in a week or two she'd let him feast between her legs for hours on end. For now, he'd be content with whatever scraps of attention she gave him.