The Billionaire: Forbidden Sex Love

His tongue was whipping across me, his fingers thrusting, sending me so far off that edge that I was peaking, and all I had left was more screams. “Jenner!”

“Fuck yes.” He switched to a horizontal pattern. “Tell me. Tell me how fucking good it feels.”

His words were like air, bursting across my clit, bringing me higher with each syllable. “Your tongue … I can’t.” I tried to inhale, I tried to find the words to describe what was happening inside me, but I couldn’t.

I was gone, overtaken with shudders and waves of ecstasy, and he didn’t let up, making sure I was riding this out.

The moment I finally stilled, he gazed up at me from between my legs. “You have no idea how fucking hot that was.”

I shoved my hand through his hair, pulling the strands to lead him up my body until his lips were within range, and I kissed him, holding his face with both hands.

“Taste yourself,” he whispered.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

I already was, needing his mouth, his lips, his kiss to resonate this feeling.

The seal made me feel even more connected to him even though our bodies had just been intertwined.

“I missed you,” I admitted when I finally pulled away.

His eyes narrowed, his hand running down my chest, between my breasts, moving around my side until he reached my lower back, and he held me against him.

There was a fight behind his pupils.

I saw it.

I felt it in his grip.

He just wasn’t ready to verbalize it.

And I wasn’t going to make him.

I kissed him once more and said softly, “Let’s go get some food.”

“I just ate.”

The grittiness in his voice was extremely erotic, but I still laughed. “I mean, real food.”

“I don’t think anything could taste better than you.”

I stared into his eyes, reading them. “Does that translate to room service? Or-”

“Room service.” He pounced on top of me, holding me against the mattress, keeping my hands behind my back as he kissed and tickled my neck.

“Mmm.” I pushed my head back, and he licked across my throat. “Are you ever going to let me out of this room?”

“If it was up to me, no.”

“What about the concert tonight?”

He kissed down to my breasts, staring up at me as he sucked my nipple into his mouth, only releasing it to say, “I could keep you so occupied that you wouldn’t even remember you had tickets.” He pulled that hardened bud back into his mouth and nibbled on the end, goose bumps shooting across my body.

I didn’t doubt a thing he had said. Jenner had the ability to take me to a headspace where nothing mattered, except for him.

That thought was as terrifying as it was wonderful.

“You know, Monica would hunt us down, dragging us by our ears if she had to.”

He came up for air, his lips now hovering above mine. “I can oddly picture that.” He smiled, and it was so delicious. “Wait until you see the seats I scored for us.”

My brows rose. “They certainly can’t be better than The Weeknd seats you had.”

“They’re better.”

I held in my breath. “And you got a ticket for Monica too?”

His grin grew. “You know I wouldn’t leave her out.”

I wasn’t sure why I’d even asked; he certainly wasn’t the type to make Monica sit alone.

I just couldn’t help but be shocked at his generosity.

As my heart clutched, his gaze eating at me, I knew that, whatever this was, I didn’t deserve him.

I closed my eyes, holding the emotion in my chest. “Thank you. I mean it.” I linked my fingers with his and got up from the bed, standing by the edge. “Come with me.”

“You’re making me get dressed?”

“Just the opposite.” I found my lip and chewed it. “I want to see what you taste like in the shower.”

The seats Monica and I had purchased for Post Malone were in the middle of the third tier. We would have been closer to the ceiling than the stage. The only glimpse of him we would have been catching were on the large monitors spread throughout FTX Arena.

And then there were Jenner’s seats.

Front row, kitty-corner to the center of the stage, less than twenty feet from where he was singing. There was only one view that could possibly be better, and that would be standing right next to Post.

I shivered at the thought of how much these seats cost.

There was something about concerts that Monica and I just loved. Listening to the artists, obviously, was the major part, but there was more. It was the energy in the stadium, the way our bodies automatically moved to whatever beat was playing, how it was impossible to feel anything but happiness.

Music brought us together.

And it was bringing Jenner even closer to me.

His arm never left my body; whether it was wrapped around my shoulders or waist, it was secure. His lips stayed near my cheek. His air hit my skin, over and over with each breath.

When I felt his eyes on me, I didn’t look at him. I just let him stare and take me in. I let him smell my skin. I let him feel this moment between us, getting lost, like I often did when I gazed at him.

And I tried to stay just as engaged with Monica, hearing her laugh. “I feel like his sweat is about to drip on me.”

Her arms were waving in the air, her body swaying.

I knew what she meant. I still couldn’t believe we were this close to the stage.

But even though I was watching him sing, viewing each droplet of sweat fall down his face, I could only focus on Jenner.

I was consumed by his presence.

By his attention that was burning through me.