Taken By The Billionaire(10)

“Jesus,” I heard myself gasp.



Damien grinned and replied cockily, “Not quite, but it’s an easy mistake to make.” Then he got serious. His face darkened and I’ll admit he scared me a little. “Come here,” he growled.



Like a sacrificial virgin I walked slowly towards him. My stomach flipped and I felt my legs trembling as I approached. God I was so scared of what he would do to me.



Damien’s face softened, his eyes lit up and he smiled tenderly at me. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’d never hurt you.”



When we kissed, my lips tentative against his at first, Damien took my hand and placed it over the iron jutting from his body. My fingers closed around it, not quite able to take the circumference of him in a full grip, and when I felt the heat of that thing in my fist the dam of my reserve collapsed and I began to return Damien’s kiss with increasing urgency.



“Stroke me,” Damien muttered. “Touch my cock and stroke it. Not too hard,” he warned. “I’m not going to cum. I’m going to save that for after I make you cum.”



I didn’t know it at that time, I thought he meant later on that night after we’d made love, but Damien meant for us to both wait until Paris before he’d release us. We didn’t end up in bed together until France, and at that our first time wasn’t in bed.



That first night in his home, Damien bound my wrists with one of his ties and, just as he’d said in the restaurant, made me sit in on a wooden chair in his huge, warm and comfortable kitchen while he kissed my mouth, my neck and my breasts. He licked the length of my spine, swirling his tongue at a really, really sensitive spot right down near my ass. He pushed my legs open and murmured softly when he saw me there, saying how beautiful I was. My face burned when he touched me, his fingers gently splaying me open and he felt how he’d affected me.



He sniffed his fingers, sighing when he spoke of my essence and how he wanted to taste me.



I moaned with desire when Damien stepped back from the chair a pace or two and held himself in both his hands and slowly fisted his own length.



“Look at me,” he growled in that dangerous voice. “Watch while I pleasure myself. It feels so good, Kylie. So fucking good. Do you want to touch yourself now?”



“Yes,” I moaned. “Please, untie me. I want to show you. Please”



But he didn’t, he just kept on teasing me. I don’t know how long he played with me that night all I know is I wanted him. I wanted him in my hands, in my mouth and between my legs. I wanted to feel him moving inside me; I wanted his mouth between my legs, his tongue probing and wriggling and searching, but we never got beyond the teasing.



That incredible mind game went on for the three weeks until Paris. By day we’d both be caught up with our own preparations, but at night Damien would kiss me and stroke me and sometimes, very occasionally he’d split my intimate folds with his tongue to tease me even more. He’d never let it go beyond that, never allowing either of us to climax. During all that time he kept us both in check, was in complete control. Even on the plane he kept on teasing me. It was the same in the limo from the airport to the hotel. By the time we got to the suite Alexandra had booked for me I was ready to explode with anticipation. In all that time since the first night I’d somehow resisted the almost overwhelming desire to touch myself, denying the orgasm I craved. If Damien refused to succumb, then I had to as well.



Despite feeling tired from the flight, I’d been too aroused to sleep even though we were able to stretch out in the first class cabin, I agreed to dinner with Damien. I thought he’d fall on me when we first arrived in Paris, but no the evil bastard kept on playing, tormenting me until I wanted to scream.



In a mild panic I bathed and made sure I was perfectly scented and ready for him should he decide to make his move, even slipping into the tiniest, sexiest thong I owned.



“Here we are,” he said, raising his glass. “In Paris. To us. Cheers.” We chinked glasses in salute.



At the end of the meal Damien looked at me with a heavy-lidded gaze. “The choice is yours,” he rumbled in a low, sexy voice. “We can go back to your suite or we can fuck in the bathroom right here.”



As much as I wanted to let him have me right there in the restaurant I opted for the former. “The hotel,” I muttered, my voice breaking because I wanted him so much. “All night in the hotel.”



We didn’t even undress completely. Back at my room I lunged at Damien before the door had closed behind us. I wanted him inside me as I sucked on his tongue and his hands roamed freely over my body. Damien tore the zipper on my dress in his eagerness to be at me. We were kissing and gasping and clawing at each other’s clothing in a frenzy of pent up lust.