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I nod a brief affirmation, but I’m not thinking about her language anymore. Kayla’s naked and on her knees, her mouth inches from my cock. Her dark eyes are staring up at me, and shit, I swear she sees me. Not just the cocky billionaire, and not the kid she befriended all those year ago, but they guy who is a little bit of both.
Take her.
She gives me a wicked grin, and I wonder if she can read my mind. Then she leans forward. Her tongue touches my cock and my brain short-circuits.
She’s licking me like I’m a lollipop.
Her hand joins in the action as the head of my cock disappears between her lips. Her hair falls forward like a curtain threatening to steal away the view. I reach out and tuck the long locks behind her ear.
I need to see her. This isn’t just another blowjob. It fucking matters that Kayla’s down on her knees with her mouth around me. It’s as if she’s wrapped up everything I need, everything I want, with a pretty little bow and hand-delivered it to me.
Her mouth abandons my cock. My hips thrust up into her hand. I’m not complaining about the way her fingers glide over me, but I’m close to begging for her lips around me again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her free hand reach for the bottle.
“I hope this works,” she murmurs, raising the champagne to her lips.
You can’t go wrong. I’d tell her that, but with her hand wrapped around my cock and her breasts on full display while she tips her head back and swallows a mouthful of champagne, all I can manage is a nod.
“Oops.” She lowers the bottle and laughs. “I wasn’t supposed to swallow.”
Oh fuck. I’m going to come before she closes her lips around my cock again.
“You’re killing me,” I growl. And yeah, I’m impressed that I found the power of speech.
“Just wait.” She raises the bottle to her lips again.
I keep my gaze fixed on her as she takes in a mouthful of bubbly and then lowers her head. Her lips part just enough to wrap around me again. And no, the champagne doesn’t exactly stay in her mouth. It’s all over me, but I don’t give a shit. The sensation blows my mind.
“Kayla.” My hips thrust up into her mouth. She doesn’t retreat. Her eyes are closed, the champagne’s all but forgotten, except for the remaining bubbles threatening to push me over the edge.
Not yet. I want her with me, screaming my name.
“You know what would make this better?” I say.
She looks up at me, her lips still gliding up and down. But she raises an eyebrow as if to ask You really want me to stop?
“The bed,” I say before my cock wins my internal debate, and I shut the hell up. “I only have one first night with you. And I want you to come with me.”
She releases her hold on me. “If you insist.”
“I do.” I try to find the words to tell her that tonight’s different. I’ve had sex in my apartment before, but never with a woman who means so fucking much to me. I can’t lose her. Today, tomorrow, next month, hell, next year, I need her in my life.
When I open
my mouth to tell her what I’m thinking, all that comes out is, “Let me make love to you.”
She studies my face for a second.
Fuck. What if she can read my mind?
“Okay,” she says.
She rises up from the floor and backs up until her legs touch the bed. Then she falls back. Her hair fans out against the white sheets. And I swear every inch of her beautiful curves, of her soft inviting body, look as if she belongs right there.
“You are planning to join me, right?”
“Yeah.” I’m on my feet, heading for the nightstand. I need a condom while my brain’s still forming coherent thoughts. Once I climb onto the bed, I’ll be lost.
I cover myself and then join her. Our legs tangle as my mouth finds hers. My weight rests on my elbows. I’m hovering over her, close enough to feel her breasts brush against my chest as I slide into her …
