Page 78 of Billionaire’s Cruelty

Then, with a deep inhale, I sealed my mouth over her and devoured her, sucking every drop of her arousal as if it were the only thing keeping me alive.

And then⁠—

She shattered.

A cry tore from her lips, her entire body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard—raw, erotic, utterly intoxicating. No song, no melody in the world could compare.

I pressed a kiss to her forehead as she collapsed against the couch, breathless, shaking.

She was quiet for a moment. Then, in a hesitant whisper, she asked, “Was it… disgusting? My taste?”

I frowned, lifting her chin, but she turned her head away, refusing to meet my gaze.

“This is not your first time?” I asked softly, curiosity swirling in my mind. What made her ask that? Had I done something wrong? I had tasted her before and I knew June wasn’t a virgin.

She shook her head, avoiding my gaze. “I just… wasn’t sure I tasted good.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” I brushed my lips over her temple. “You taste like heaven.”

She threw a skeptical look at me, her eyes searching mine.

It hit me then—words weren’t enough.

What did heaven taste like?

I exhaled, shaking my head with a grin. “It’s hard to explain. Your scent, your taste—it drives me mad.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Can you not tell?”

She knew exactly what I meant. Her gaze flickered downward, a slow, knowing smile curving her lips.

Leaning on her side, she pushed herself up and began undressing me—tie, jacket, shirt, belt, pants, underwear—each piece peeled away with deliberate care. Her eyes never left mine.

Once I was bare before her, she rose to her feet and held out a hand. I took it, following her into the bedroom.

She sat at the edge of the super king bed, then slowly crawled backward toward the center. The invitation was clear.

I joined her, stretching out beside her, our bodies inches apart.

Just like that, we lay on our sides, facing each other. Minutes passed in silence. No words were needed.

Our gazes locked, deep and unbroken.

She traced her finger across my body. Gliding over my chest, pausing at my abs, as if she was memorizing every ridge and contour.

I mirrored her touch, running my fingers through her hair, then down her face, brushing along the curve of her neck.

Before I could trail lower, before my hand could reach the fullness of her breast, a sudden sensation stole my focus.

A sharp pulse.

A tingle.

A tightening ache that demanded attention.