The Bad Boy Billionaire: What a Girl Wants by Maya Rodale Page B

voice sounding rough now.
    “You tell me,” he said. I lowered my gaze to his hands, around his cock. My own hands went lower, past my belly, down a little further.
    “Lower?”
    “Lower.”
    The pressure building inside of me. My temperature was surely rising. I felt the heat building, scorching away all the bad memories, leaving nothing but desire in its place. I knew how hot this fire could blaze and what would happen as the pressure intensified to the point of explosion.
    There was no turning back now.
    “Close your eyes,” I told him.
    “Yes ma’am,” he growled.
    “You can’t yes ma’am me at a time like this,” I protested, eyes opening to see him on his knees before me.
    “Yes, Miss Sparks,” he murmured.
    He was so close, and he could just reach out and touch me or just have me. But he didn’t because he loved me and wanted me to feel pleasure on my own terms. I felt another surge of desire.
    “That’s more like it,” I murmured.
    “Where are your fingers, Jane?” His voice was lower now, rougher now. He sounded positively tortured. But I was in a state of bliss.
    “I can’t say.” But I touched myself around where Sam had tried to violate me. I knew just where to stroke and tease. Every little touch made me feel hot and electric.
    “Slow circles,” Duke murmured. “Use a light touch. Feather light. So light you can hardly feel it. Just how you like it.”
    “Yes,” I gasped. That was just how I liked it.
    He groaned. “How does it feel? Please, tell me how it feels.”
    That was desire in his voice. I cracked my eyes open, glancing at him in a heavy-lidded haze of pleasure and self-discovery. Everything about him was dark and hard and tense. He desired me and this—my own pleasure—was arousing to him.
    “Tempting,” I said. “And wet. I feel wet.”
    He groaned and said, “Keep going, Jane. Please.”
    As if he had to ask.
    I kept going with the light circles around this magical place of insane feeling not because he asked but because something instinctive compelled me to keep going.
    “I want to kiss you there,” he said. “I want to taste you. I want to tease you until you just can’t help but cry out.”
    He wanted these things, and I did too. But it was only my hands on my body. My fingers were bringing me closer and closer to the brink.
    “Jane, what do you feel? Tell me.”
    “I feel like I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t stop.”
    “You’re close. God, you’re close. Press harder now, Jane and let go .”
    I pressed harder, groaning under the pressure of my touch and the pressure of something building inside of me. It wasn’t a bad pressure at all. It was lovely, like fireworks on a hot night and because he said to let go and I trusted him, I let go and then—
    The force of it took my breath away. Vaguely, I heard him cry out too. There was nice and then there was pleasure so intense and overwhelming that it took my breath away, cleared my thoughts and ricocheted over every last inch of my body in the most exquisite way.

 
    Chapter Six
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    W HEN I OPENED my eyes the next morning I saw that the rain had stopped and the sun was shining. Unfortunately, the power hadn’t come back on—which meant the heating hadn’t either. I burrowed down under the covers, and snuggled up against Duke for warmth. He wrapped his arms around me, held me close and we slept like that for a few more hours.
    Yesterday morning I couldn’t have imagined enjoying this kind of intimacy, but last night I had reclaimed some of myself, and my desire, and I saw that I could trust Duke not to hurt me when I was vulnerable. So I savored the warmth of his embrace.
    But eventually the sunshine won. I wanted to see the city after the storm.
    Also, I wanted coffee.
    After Duke and I managed to make coffee, we stood around the kitchen, leaning against the counters with our hands wrapped tightly around the steaming hot mugs.
    “Up for an adventure today?” he asked, his blue eyes