Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Except my pride is at stake. I don’t like letting him win at anything. He’s a white cis male billionaire who works on Wall Street. He already owns the world. He could have any woman.
But I’m not any woman.
And I’m not going to let him seduce me so easily.
I bat his hand away. “No deal.” Then I cross the line by reaching out and pinching his nipple. Beneath the crisp, thousand dollar button down and the undershirt, I feel the thick stub of his man-nipple, and it’s hard, like mine.
“Looks like you’re the one who’s hard,” I taunt.
He grabs my wrist, moving lightning fast. “Now who’s touching without consent?” His voice is low and dangerous.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the threat, even though I’m 99 percent sure it’s all sexual.
Oh God.
Something crazy happens to me while he’s holding my wrist. The flesh between my legs doesn’t just squeeze. It spasms. I’m having a mini-orgasm just from having my wrist clamped by Billy Billions.
His nostrils flare, and he lowers his head and inhales, as if he’s breathing in my scent.
Before I know it, my back hits the kitchen cabinets. “Do you like a dominant touch, Aubrey?” His voice is pure sin. I didn’t know you could pack that much sex, lust, and innuendo into a few words.
Another orgasm drives up to the cusp.
“N-no.” The backs of my knees tremble. Heat flushes down my arms and legs. Between my breasts.
I have a hard time catching my breath.
“Another lie. I just made you come when I grabbed your wrist. You’re about to come again now, aren’t you?”
Oh God.
I am.
My inner thighs shiver. Everything in me coils, like a mousetrap set to spring.
I’m pissed as hell at myself when a little whine of submission comes out of my throat. No. I’m not going to lose this battle. I’m not going to–
“I won’t move another muscle.” He’s so close, his breath is warm on my face. His blue eyes have a strange, silvery glint to them. “But I’ll bet if I just moved my knee between those sweet thighs and give you something to press against, you’ll give me another one.”
“I…won’t.” My voice sounds strangled. I’m too mesmerized by my body’s reaction to him to throw it back in his face–something I’m normally adept at.
“Should we test it?” he murmurs.
I don’t want him to.
Wait–yes, I do.
Do I?
I never want to give him the upper hand–I know that much. But damn, if I don’t want to let this moment play out. I know he’s right. I could grind down on his thigh and come–hard.
Harder than a moment ago.
I try and fail to swallow. Then I manage to croak, “On your knees.”
The only way I will come again is if I get to take back the upper hand, and he services me.
Again, he moves faster than I would’ve thought possible. Like a gun already loaded and cocked, he yanks my overalls down on his way to the floor. His thumb catches my clit even before he’s ripped my panties to the side with his other hand.
I brace my hands on his broad shoulders, pushing away even though I want him closer. The moment he presses my nubbin with the pad of his thumb, I come, but he doesn’t wait for me to finish. He goes in for the kill.
His tongue slides between my exposed labia, and he penetrates me with his middle finger.
“Jesus!” I gasp. My orgasm pulses around his finger, every muscle below my waist shaking and clenching.
He pushes the hood of my clit up and gets his lips around it, managing to suction them over the tiny bundle of nerves. He slides a second finger inside me, curling them to stroke my inner wall.
I cry out, squeezing more.
I can’t believe I’m still orgasming. We didn’t even have sex. Well, I guess this is sex, but I usually need penetration to come.
“Billy…”
He pauses and looks up at me. His lips shine glossy with my juices, and his eyes have a weird silvery glow to them–the way a cat’s catch the light at night.
His expression is feral, but some of the wildness fades as he looks at me, and then smugness sets in.
Damn him.
My stomach growls.
His brows lower, and he eases his fingers from my sopping channel and puts them in his mouth to suck my juices off.
I thought he was going to pick me up and carry me to the bedroom. I mean, this was foreplay. Now we could’ve scratched the itch we both had and gotten it over with. Maybe even call this whole mural farce thing off afterward. Although I already used the fifty percent retainer he sent me to pay down my student loans, so maybe I wouldn’t push for that.
But apparently, he thinks we’re done. He pulls my white lace panties up–the ones I wore to match the white bikini top–then slides my overalls back on.