by Hannah Ford
He was sexier than any model, his body like something that had been airbrushed to life. His chest was broad, his pecs hard and defined with just the slightest bit of dark hair. His stomach was flat, the rippling muscles narrowing into the V of his hips. His waist was slim but not too slim – he was fit and muscular, without being too bulky or too wiry.
I bit my bottom lip, wondering what it would feel like to run my hands through the hair on his chest.
Stop staring!
His eyes moved up my body, slower than they’d done out in the club, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Lemon,” he said.
“Lemon?” I wasn’t sure if he was teasing me, or if he meant it as a term of endearment.
He didn’t offer any explanation.
Instead, he pointed to the couch. “Sit.”
I did as he said, walking over to the couch and sitting down, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.
I perched on the edge of the couch, making sure I would be able to get up quickly if I needed to.
Callum walked to the door and locked it, the click echoing through the room with finality.
“Why are you locking the door?” I asked, hating that I was asking questions. Was this standard procedure? I didn’t want him to know this was my first time back here.
“We need privacy, Lemon,” Callum said.
He crossed the room until he was standing in front of me. He reached down and took my chin in his hand, tipped it up until I was looking at him. The pad of his thumb brushed over my lower lip, then slid down the hollow of my throat.
“You’re nervous, Lemon,” he said.
“No, I’m not,” I lied, looking him in the eye, determined not to let him see how nervous I really was, and not wanting him to know that I’d been lying about having been here before.
“Look at the floor,” he growled, his voice changing from teasing to commanding as if a switch had been flipped.
I did it immediately.
I wasn’t sure why.
I just knew that it felt right, that I wanted to please him, wanted to make him happy and do what he said.
“Good girl,” he said, and I flushed with pleasure at the compliment.
He sat down next to me, put his hand on my leg.
“You don’t have to be nervous, Adriana.”
“I told you, I’m not nervous.” Holy crap, that was a lie. I was more nervous than I’d ever been in my life. I was also pretty sure I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.
I will be punishing you.
I was careful to keep from looking at him, to keep my eyes down on the floor like he’d instructed.
He inched his hand up further up my thigh. His hand burned a hole through my jeans and the electricity in my belly moved lower, into my pussy, making my panties wetter than they already were.
“Nervous now?” he breathed.
“No.” But my voice sounded slightly strangled. He was only inches from touching me between my legs, and I was afraid he was going to be able to tell how turned on I was soon. He hadn’t even touched me, hadn’t even kissed me, and I was already dripping wet.
“You sure, Lemon?” he breathed, and now his mouth was right at my ear as his hand moved further and further up, and I wanted his hands on my body and his mouth on mine so bad that the urge was too hard to resist and I turned my head to look at him.
He took my chin in his free hand and pushed it back gently so I was facing forward again.
“Not until I say,” he growled.
A second later, his hand moved up and touched me through my jeans. He didn’t even move, just kept his hand cupping my mound, pressing gently.
A moan escaped my lips.
“You’re wet, Lemon,” he breathed into my ear.
He pulled his hand away, like he was enjoying teasing me, then skated it up over my stomach, his fingers toying with the button on my pants.
I closed my eyes, because I knew if I didn’t I would try to look at him again. His lips brushed against my ear every time he talked, and the heady mix of his aftershave and the feel of his mouth against my skin was intoxicating.
His hand slipped up my body, over my shirt, kneading my breast with his hand, tweaking my nipple.
“I thought,” he said, unbuttoning my top button. “I’d taken care of this.” He unbuttoned the next one, this time not stopping until my shirt was completely open. I blushed as he pulled the sides of my shirt to the side, taking in my bra. It was a simple black number that I’d put on that morning, having no idea that I was going to end up half naked in front of a gorgeous billionaire.
“Jesus, Lemon,” he said. “We’re going to have to get you some new lingerie.” He pushed his palm flat against my cleavage then slid it down slowly, moving over my stomach and back to the top of my jeans.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes and then his mouth was on mine, lemony and minty with a taste of something dark and male and dangerous. His tongue parted my lips as I surrendered to his kiss.
His hand was stroking my belly softly, moving back and forth in slow, soft circles until he was back at the button of my jeans. This time, he undid it, his hand slipping inside, down over my panties.
I moaned and tried to pull away from the kiss.
It wasn’t because I didn’t like kissing him, it was because it was so intense it was scary. I felt like I was losing control of my body, and not only that, I wanted to lose control to him. I wanted to push myself over the edge, wanted to give myself to him. And my instinct was to rail against that, even though it was what I wanted.
His other hand held the back of my head though, pushing my mouth harder against his, the kiss deepening, his tongue probing and dancing with mine.
I let out a little whimper as his fingers dipped inside my panties and slid down over my pussy, tugging gently at my pubic hair.
He pulled back from the kiss and I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to disobey him.
“We’ll have to do something about this, too,” he murmured, and then his fingers were spreading my folds gently and his finger was… oh, God, his finger was inside of me and his thumb was pressing against my clit and his mouth was back on mine.
He began fucking me with his finger, soft and slow, while he rubbed my clit and teased my mouth with his tongue. I could feel myself being pushed to the edge, but right when I was about to come, he stopped. My breathing was ragged, every sense heightened as he began finger fucking me again, bringing me to the edge and back over and over again, driving me crazy.
Finally, he stopped completely.
I started to open my eyes, but he barked, “Eyes on the floor.”
I immediately averted my gaze.
“Stand up,” he said, “and make sure you keep your eyes on the floor.”
I stood up and he began to undress me, pulling my pants off, sliding my shirt off and tossing it onto the floor. His hands roamed over my body, his fingertips brushing down my bare arms before he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down until I was kneeling on the hard floor.
“Unbutton my pants,” he commanded.
I did as I was told, my hands shaking as I fumbled with his belt.
What are you doing, Adriana?
What the hell are you doing?
I wasn’t sure.
All I knew was that I couldn’t stop.
Want more? Click here to keep reading BECAUSE HE OWNS ME by Hannah Ford
