Dirty Nasty Billionaire [Part One]

by Paige North

  He’s like a master musician, and my body is merely an instrument for him to play all the way to a stunning climax. His lips cover mine, firm and wanting. He pulls my lower lip and catches it between his teeth, eliciting a low moan from deep within me. I let my hands go up into his hair, and just as I suspected, it’s thick and silky soft. I could spend the whole evening running my hands through it.

  But Nixon has other plans.

  In an instant, my feet are off the ground. He’s lifted me like I’m nothing but a breath of air, and he carries me over to his desk, where he pushes aside his collection of wireless devices with one hand while depositing me on the edge of the desk with the other. He kisses me with such force and passion that I have to place my hands to the desk behind me to hold myself up. His hands are on my waist, but very quickly they begin migrating up my ribcage until his thumbs brush over the firm peaks of my nipples. The silk of my shirt and the delicate lace of my bra beneath give him ready access. But it’s not close enough, because very soon his fingers are making quick work of the buttons while his lips move along my jaw until his tongue is tracing small circles in the tender spot just behind my ear. I want to cry out, but I don’t know if there’s anyone else on the floor who might hear me. Though very little of my brain is able to grab hold of that worry as Nixon pulls my shirt open, his hands reaching to pull aside the lace of my bra until my nipples are free for his pleasure — and mine.

  His lips leave my neck, and I’m momentarily disappointed at the loss. Until he ducks his head and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the stiff peak.

  “Oh god,” I mutter, my breath ragged. Any thought that I’m unable to have an orgasm has long since disappeared. I know that Nixon Blake is going to make me come harder than I ever thought possible, and all I can do now is sit here on the edge of his pristine desk and enjoy it.

  Holy fuck am I going to enjoy it.

  While he works his tongue over one nipple, his palm takes hold of my other breast. His other hand grips the small of my back, holding me to him. Every place where he’s touching me is alight with a fire, heat radiating through my body. I drop my head back, my mouth open as I heave out breath after breath. I could come just from this, but as if he can hear my thoughts, he pulls back. I look up, my eyes catching his, and he shakes his head, as if not say, No, Delaney. I have other plans. He’s going to make me come, that’s for sure, but it’s going to be on his time. And he’s not ready yet. He’s going to make me wait.

  He’s going to make me beg.

  His eyes never leave mine as he reaches for the button on my pants. He takes his time lowering the zipper, then grips my hips. I lift my hips slightly, and he peels them down, lowering himself to his knees behind the desk as he goes. He plants soft, teasing kisses along my inner thighs as he pulls off my boots, my pants following closely behind. Then he sits back on his heels, looking up at me. I’m now sitting on the edge of his desk, my shirt open and off my shoulders, my bra pulled down, my breasts on full display. Nixon’s eyes travel the length of me, raising goosebumps along my pale skin with the rake of his gaze, until they stop at the black lace boy shorts I’d carefully selected this morning — only I was thinking they were comfortable and afforded me a lack of panty lines. I never imagined I was selecting the panties that Nixon Blake would be staring at.

  He places his hands firmly on my knees and pushes, spreading my legs open before him. He runs his hands up the inside of my thighs, and I quiver beneath his touch. He follows the trail with a sweep of his tongue, pausing to nip at my milky white skin as he goes.

  I let out another deep, guttural moan.

  When he reaches the center of me, where the black lace of my panties meet in a delicate seam, he pauses. He lets out a long, hot breath, the air feeling as firm as the press of his fingers, which are gripping the inside of my thighs, holding me open to him. His lips are so close they’re practically brushing against me. But he’s not touching. Not yet. Fuck, why isn’t he touching me?

  “Tell me what you want, Delaney,” he growls, the heat from his breath coming out with each word and sending me closer and closer to the edge.

  “Please,” I heave out, barely able to form anything coherent.

  “Tell me what you want, Delaney,” he says again, his grip tightening on my thighs. I look down and see his eyes gazing up at me, and though he’s the one on his knees, I’m the one completely at his mercy.

  “I want you to make me come,” I moan, voice shaking now despite my best efforts.

  He smirks, then reaches up to my hips, his hands gripping the lace of my panties. And then he pulls, the fabric giving way easily, until the tattered lace fabric is clutched in his fists. He quickly tosses it aside, his hands back on my thighs as he opens me wide to his waiting tongue. With one last low growl, he leans in, his mouth covering my pussy in one swift movement. At first it’s just pressure and pleasure, my head dropping back completely until my long blonde hair is practically pooling on his desk. I lean back on my elbows, giving myself over to the pleasure — over to him. The force of my ecstasy sends my legs tensing, but Nixon holds me wide open with a firm grip as his lips part slightly, his tongue moving up my delicate folds. When he reaches the top, his tongue pauses on my clit, first pressing down hard, then moving in a slow, sensual circle. Every single part of me comes alive, heat burning off every square inch of my skin.

  His hands rise up to grip my hips, his shoulders between my knees. He has complete control of my body, and I happily surrender to him.

  “You’re so wet, Delaney,” he says, pausing to blow little breaths onto my clit. Then he runs his tongue up the length of me. “You taste so fucking good.”

  All I can do is whimper in response. I can already feel the orgasm beginning to build deep within my belly. It feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced, a mixture of pleasure and adrenaline and something else I couldn’t even begin to describe. It radiates out through my arms and down to my toes. Nixon doesn’t have to worry about maintaining access, because I suddenly I can’t can let him in enough. I bring a foot up to the edge of desk, letting my knee drop back so I’m open even wider to him. I want his tongue over every part of me.

  I can feel his lips curl up.

  “I don’t think the question is if you’re coming to come,” he says, his lips brushing against my clit again. “I think the question is how many times.”

  And then his tongue is on my clit, flat and pressing down. The pressure brings me all the way to the brink, and when he pulls back and flicks at it quickly with the tip of his tongue, the orgasm explodes through me like a firework on the Fourth of July. Only it just keeps exploding. Over and over again, I feel the orgasm rush through me. He didn’t just bring me to the peak of pleasure, he’s pinning me there with his tongue. My body shudders with each wave, and I realize that I’m crying out with my full voice.

  “Oh my god, oh my god, oh fuck,” I scream, and just when I think it can’t get any more intense, he slips two fingers deep inside me, then curls them up, like he’s beckoning me to come again.

  And I do.

  I reach forward and return my fingers to his hair, gripping and pulling his face into my pussy, my hips grinding against him as if moving completely independently of my body. He moans into me, his tongue still making delicate work of my clit, which is now radiating heat and pleasure and electricity throughout my body. I don’t know if this is several orgasms or one sustained orgasm, and I don’t care. I just want to feel this. More. All of it. Forever. I never want it to stop.

  But then he pulls away. His fingers slide out of me. He sits back on his heels, then rises. My gaze drops to his jeans, where I can see the generous bulge. And suddenly I’m hungry. Fuck, I’m ravenous. One orgasm just isn’t enough. I need more. I suddenly can’t go another second without feeling him inside me. And I’m shocked to feel my hands reach for his belt. I want to see the cock that goes with this tall, muscle frame. If he can do that with his tongue, I want to know what
else he can do.

  But he steps back, reaching up to wipe his lips with his palm. He shakes his head, that smug smirk back on his face.

  “That wasn’t the deal, Delaney.”

  I can’t help the anger that flare within me, because even though I just had the most fucking incredible orgasm that I’m sure anyone’s ever had on this whole entire planet, in the end, he still played me. He’s still in total control. I may have challenged him, but he’s won.

  “I trust that you’ll honor our deal,” he says, reaching for his phone. It’s infuriating, the way he can go from eating me out to checking his goddamn email that quickly. The air leaves the room, and I quickly reach for my skinny black pants. I pull them on, quickly stepping back into my boots while I button up my shirt.

  I realize I have one last chance to score some points here, so I hop off his desk, my feet landing with a solid thud on the concrete floor. I bend down and pick up the tattered scrap of lace that was my panties. With my clothes all put back together, I wad them up in my fist, then reach over and slide them into the pocket of his jeans, my hand lingering for only a fraction of a second on the erection that betrays his desire for me. Then I turn and stride towards the door.

  “It’s a deal, Mr. Blake,” I say, before going on my way.

  THE END OF PART ONE

  Part Two is coming soon!

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