The Billionaire Game 2(29)

And that was all I needed to hear.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to summon up a smile. “Hey, cheeseball. Patrick Stewart called and he wants his stirring speech back.”

“And there’s the Kate I know!” Asher cried, enfolding me in a warm—if also extremely wet—hug. He squeezed me tight and whispered in my ear: “We’ll make it work, Kate. Trust me. You’ll see.”







Turns out the operative part of ‘make it work’ is the word ‘work,’ and boy howdy, did we. We tracked down, bribed, cajoled, and very nearly threatened a plumbing service to come in, fix the pipes, and pump out the water; Asher called in a favor with a contractor to repair the damage to the walls and the wooden floor; I blackmailed an old boyfriend with a steam-cleaning business to take a look at the rugs and furniture; and we bought out a nearby convenience store’s entire stock of hairdryers to hand dry every single piece of lingerie, sorting out the items that were irretrievably ruined and rearranging the ones that were left to cover up the fact that we had ever planned to have any more for sale.

Last but not least, we brought out the potpourri and the incense, suffusing the air with the delicate scent of chrysanthemum and violets.

“Told ya we could do it,” Asher said as we surveyed the fruits of our labors.

I looked around. The store looked, if anything, even better than it had before. The lingerie boxes we’d had to throw out meant the space looked more open and inviting. The new paint on the walls was bright and cheery. The floor gleamed, freshly waxed. The open windows carried the scent of California eucalyptus.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I told him, taking his hand.

“Oh, you could have,” he murmured, looking deep into my eyes. “But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

I smiled up at him, too tired and grateful and intoxicated with his closeness to think of one single thing to be sarcastic about. “Do you think we could get back to that conversation we were having, before we were so rudely interrupted?”

“I think I remember the general gist of it,” he murmured, leaning down and capturing my lips in a kiss.

Kissing him was like coming home; I sighed as his tongue slipped between my lips and his hands began to roam across my back, squeezing my ass as I ground against him, his cock hard and long against my thigh. My nipples tightened as his hot mouth made its way down my neck to lick and nip at my cleavage, and I gasped as he began to bite and suck at my breasts through the thin fabric above them.

“Counter,” I demanded breathlessly, and he picked me up and carried me to the edge of the counter, his intent mouth sucking at my right nipple the entire time.

I locked my legs around his hips as he set me down and pulled him to me until I could feel his hard dick pressing against the silk of my panties, my skirt already rucked up around my thighs. I clenched the muscles of my legs, wanting him inside me already, wanting to feel his size and his power.

My hands were moving of their own accord, unbuttoning his shirt and stroking his broad chest; I pinched his nipple and he grunted, thrusting against me harder as his hands came up, pulling my dress over my head.

I spared a moment of mental gratitude for the fact that I was wearing my own lingerie today, and then all thoughts fled from my head as Asher knelt between my legs, ripping my panties down to my knees before leaning forward and sucking my clit into his mouth.

I moaned, and he flicked out his tongue, tracing the lips of my pussy with agonizing slowness. I rocked against him, impatient, my hands curling in his hair, and was rewarded by his tongue dipping into me, stroking my inner wall lightly before retreating again.

“Asher,” I pleaded, my voice rough with need. “Asher, please, more, God…”

His hands were clamped down on my thighs, spreading them open and holding me tight as he licked me; his thumb began to circle my clit, forcing breathy moans from my mouth.

“You’ve been working so hard, Kate,” he whispered against my pussy. “I think you deserve a little reward.” His tongue plunged into me, even deeper.

“Oh, God yes,” I panted.

I writhed on the counter, legs spread, wetter than I had ever been in my life, completely at the mercy of those sweet lips. When he slid a finger inside me, I whimpered, pressing myself helplessly against him, pleas falling from my lips: “Oh God, Asher, please, so good, I need more, so good, Asher…”

Another finger, and I moaned louder, unable to stop my hips from jolting upward harder and faster as he began to set a more frantic pace, his fingers curling up inside me, his thumb merciless on my clit, his lips and his tongue tracing and kissing and sucking and oh God, it had never been this good before—